In the Fall into the division of labor, [Claude] Lévi-Strauss sees the great hunters trading women to create the exogamous bonds of one hunting band with another. The egg is, but the sperm does. The tiny sperm may be furious in its activity, but its highway to the egg is paved by the alkaline trail set down by the Great Mother.

This is not a videogame, this is real life! People get hurt! There is no restart from last checkpoint.

This is just another piece of common sense about philosophy, the one to which the pragmatists herostratically sacrificed everything else.

Over three decades of writing about transit in the Toronto region has landed me in a stupor, unable to give readers the straight goods on our transit needs.