"Home, home on the range...

...where the deer and the antelope play." My Grandfather used to whistle that as he awoke before daybreak. After making a Thermos of coffee, he proceeded to sit out on his front lawn with a pellet gun, and pick pigeons off the wire hanging over his driveway. This was his solution to prevent the scavengers from crapping on the hood of his Chevy. When I was younger I used to laugh at that story, though as I aged, I started to feel distinctly disconcerted. "Things have to get dirty before they get clean", he used to tell me. He was very right, and so much of the world works with these types of binary (and sometimes extreme) measures. It's all very clear to me now.