I want to take some time to commemorate a true-blue American - Harry R. Truman.

Truman is a footnote to history these days; I ran across him because today is the anniversary of the Mount Saint Helens eruption, which isn't something I cared anything about before, but it's now local history for me so I should try and know about it.

Truman was a folk hero in the months leading up to the eruption.  Like most folk heroes, he earned that role by being both outspoken and doggedly ignorant.  During the two months of volcanic activity preceding the eruption, officials tried their best to get people out of the path of the volcano.  Truman refused, and gave a number of colorful interviews to the media on the topic.  The media loved him.  They ate it up.  As people would say today, Truman could really deliver eyeballs.

Of course, when the eruption occurred, Truman was killed by being buried in lava, along with his sixteen cats.  I'm not particularly bothered by Truman's death but I am by the cats.  If anybody at all involved with the circus has ever expressed any regrets, they haven't been widely disseminated.