 (move.isSimpleMove()) {
          var pos = move.actions[0][1][0];
          var piece = board.getPiece(pos);
          if ((piece!== null) && (piece.player!= board.player)) {
              if (!_.isUndefined(promote[piece.type])) {
                  piece = piece.promote(promote[piece.type]);
              }
              piece = piece.changeOwner(board.player);
              var p = design.navigate(board.player, pos, sr);
              while (p!== null) {
                  if (board.getPiece(p) === null) {
                      move.dropPiece(p, piece);
                      return;
                  }
                  p = design.navigate(board.player, p, sr);
              }
              move.failed = true;
          }
      }
  });
  CheckInvariants(board);
}

})();
<issue_start><issue_comment>Title: bib report missing class name
username_0: When add a bib entry to a class method, the class name is missing in the bib report.  For example, execute below code piece:

```
from sbpy import bib
from sbpy.bib import cite

class A():
    @cite({'ref': '1989aste.conf..524B'})
    def test(self):
        pass

a = A()
a.test()
print(bib.to_text())
```

It will print:

```
__main__.test:
  ref:
      Bowell, Hapke, Domingue et al. 1989, Asteroids II, 524
```

The class name `A` is missing in the report `__main__.test:`.  Can we add class name?
<issue_comment>username_0: Just discovered that a related problem is that the report will merge all entries with the same function name, despite whether they are from the same class or different classes:

```
from sbpy import bib
from sbpy.bib import cite

class A():
    @cite({'ref': '1989aste.conf..524B'})
    def test(self):
        pass

class B():
    @cite({'ref': '2010Icar..209..542M'})
    def test(self):
        pass

class C():
    @cite({'ref': '2016P&SS..123..117P'})
    def test(self):
        pass

bib.track()
a = A()
a.test()
b = B()
b.test()
c = C()
c.test()

print(bib.to_text())
```

will produce output:

```
__main__.test:
  ref:
      Bowell, Hapke, Domingue et al. 1989, Asteroids II, 524
      Penttilä, Shevchenko, Wilkman & Muinonen 2016, Planetary and Space Science, Vol 123, 117
      Muinonen, Belskaya, Cellino et al. 2010, Icarus, Vol 209, 2, 542
```<issue_closed>
<issue_comment>username_1: Both cases were fixed with PR #190.Finding Meaning in War and God
Keywords: Chris Hedges; Christian right; fascism; Stephen Colbert; El Salvador; divinity; DRD4 gene; addiction to war; Bosnia; Eros and Thanatos; Freud; Michael Lerner; meaning; embedded journalists.
I’m getting psyched up to interview Chris Hedges (see photo) in the next few days. He’s a former war correspondent who five years ago wrote War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, and now has published a new book, American Fascists, which depicts US right wing religious groups as fascists. There doesn’t seem to be any obvious connection between the two topics, but I do see a common unspoken thread: that both war and religion can be powerful sources of meaning — at least for people whose lives otherwise seem empty. I’m ambivalent about both books, which I have just re-read, but more favorable toward the first than the second one.
I met Chris Hedges very briefly, about a year ago in Berkeley when he gave a talk about war. He was staying in my hotel and appeared to be milder and more introverted than the flamboyant war correspondent one might have expected to meet. Then a couple of nights ago I saw him again, this time on Stephen Colbert’s satirical television show. Colbert, in his customary persona as a right-winger, playfully gave Hedges a hard time, but it seemed to me that one of his punches actually landed pretty hard: He said that Hedges sounds angry in the new book, which is true. In fact, his attack on right wing Christians is ferocious in comparison to his description of the fighters in wars. I think he pities people in war for being caught up in a delusion, but he has no compassion for the fascists he sees in America today. I think they are equally pitiable — and possibly equally dangerous too, for people caught up in a delusion may go to any length.
Still, his credentials are impeccable to speak on both subjects. The son of a liberal protestant minister, he holds a masters degree in divinity from Harvard, but instead of being ordained, he went off to war as a newspaper reporter. He writes well and he has a soul, though he seems rather cautious about disclosing his own spiritual orientation or even his own psychological needs. It was hard to imagine what drew him into the pursuit of violence.
He does describe his conversion experience, if I may call it that. It was in El Salvador when he wandered around where bullets were zinging past him, and for several minutes expected to be killed. Thereafter, other people would stay away from scenes of that kind, he says, but instead, he was “hooked.”
Although I can barely imagine getting addicted to war, his description of that experience was what I admired about the book, for its unusual honesty. (In choosing that word, I remember having heard it recently when Angelina Jolie described the shocking times when she used to cut herself. She explained it as “honest,” which I did not understand, but now I see that it must be related to the warrior’s quest for violence and a source of intensity and hence meaning.) People who are addicted to war normally deny it; the honest acknowledgment of that is worthy, though the experience itself is not.
My own explanation of the addiction is genetic. I will ask Hedges about that when I interview him. There are people with a variant gene who have a shortage of adrenaline and cortisol. They crave it and seek to stimulate themselves by undertaking dangerous activities. I don’t have any such gene and it’s hard for me to empathize with those who do.
But I certainly can empathize with anyone who wants a meaningful life. Everyone wants meaning, but perhaps not all to the same degree. Hedges says that there’s a mythology about war that imbues it with heroism because it portrays fighters as struggling nobly for a cause, sacrificing themselves for the sake of their people — often a nationalistic shared identity. You have to believe in that myth to become addicted to war, he says. When people stop believing in it, they stop going to war. He, however, spent 15 years covering wars, trying to recapture the excitement of El Salvador, though none of the later battles quite matched up to it. He didn’t say anything about a genetic predisposition, nor did he say that he had become habituated to battle over the years.
What I wonder is, what, exactly, is the myth that you have to believe in order to get satisfaction from warfare? I can piece together some of the elements, from clues Chris left along the way. For one thing, there has to be a cause that you believe in. And you have to believe that the two conflicting sides are not equally culpable. Your side is the good side. Everyone gets caught up in that polarization. War correspondents are hardly ever even-handed. Their reports are biased. Chris says that he still believes that the Serbs deserve 80 percent of the blame for the war in Bosnia. So in that regard, perhaps he’s still susceptible to craving war. I think it’s generally true that all sides in a conflict differ in their culpability. Still, even believing that, I don’t think I’m susceptible to being caught up in war madness.
He offers a brilliant description of the contrast between wartime and peacetime attitudes. As soon as the first person is killed, a huge transformation of mentality occurs that affects almost everyone. The lines are drawn. There can no longer be any tolerance of the enemy – even tolerance toward members of that group who have always been close friends. But then, when the war ends, people just switch back into the peace mode. Interpersonally they act as if they have forgotten what had just been going on, Nevertheless, there are terrible psychological wounds. Almost every combat soldier is a psychiatric casualty.
War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning is one of the most powerful anti-war books I have ever read. It is explicit in arguing that the myth of war is a lie