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Energy Tomorrow

I've started seeing commercials for this website EnergyTomorrow.org, produced by API, the American Petroleum Institute. The commercials are, seemingly, supposed to reassure the American consumer/taxpayer/middle-class citizen that the so-called "energy crisis" isn't as bad as it might seem and that with a calm, reasoned approach America will make its way out unscathed. The commercial went like this:

Where on Earth could we ever find enough oil and natural gas to power more than 60 million cars and heat 160 million households for 60 years? Right here in America.

Log on to learn more.

I'm not shocked at the blatant ignorance of facts, the delusional vision of the future, or anything else on the list of things that might irritate me when it comes to energy and the environment. In fact, although I don't have the statistics in front of me, I'm almost sure their figures and projections are spot on. In fact, I don't think this commercial lies to anyone, nor do I feel it's totally ignorant.

But I am shocked. What I find shocking is the projection of sixty years and the fact that this group, the American Petroleum Institute, doesn't seem to have any problem with accepting that number. The reason I find it shocking is simply because 60 years is just not a long time. It's less than a human lifetime. It's just over half a century. Sixty years, while it isn't necessarily "short term," is anything but long. Sixty years ago we just got done fighting the Germans, and we still can't shut up about that. Sixty years is a blink when you consider all of history. And hell, just look at the United States: sixty years is roughly a quarter of its age. As far as empires go, the U.S. is like... a tween. And a sixty-year-old is like... a toddler.

So what I will say is that the commercials are honest and not maliciously misleading. I'll follow that up, however, by countering and saying that they are quite possibly fueled by the self-interests of those producing them, and that while they might not be blatantly deceiving, they are still misleading.

Upon visiting their website, I was greeted with this:

Rhetoric vs. Reality

Rhetoric: We can't drill our way out of this problem because the United States only has three percent of the world’s oil reserves.

Reality: America has vast resources of oil and natural gas – enough oil to power more than 60 million cars for the next six decades and enough natural gas to heat 60 million homes for 160 years, according to government estimates. We may have considerably more resources, since the government conducted their last true inventory in the early 1980s using old data from now-outdated seismic equipment.

To help encourage informed and effective conversations about energy, API has compiled some of the most frequently heard claims and proposals, along with the realities that need to be considered when evaluating them.

(They have a list of other issues on their "Energy Rhetoric vs Reality" page¹.)

Immediately I was taken aback: Were they really going to try using the don't believe the rhetoric angle when they, themselves, are using misleading rhetoric? Rhetoric is something I only recently have felt comfortable saying I have a grasp on, but I noticed the hypocrisy immediately.

If rhetoric is the art using language effectively to make a point, or to get oneself across, then it should be acceptable to question rhetoric when we feel it misleads or conveys an idea that isn't entirely true. On the website, API question the rhetoric of (mostly) skeptics and environmentalists. But, when you study the statistics they present, it's easy—very, very easy—to notice that there is some spin on what they're showing, too. (I'm not saying I question their motives. While I would trust an independent study more, it wouldn't matter if the information was still spun.)

Where I noticed it was in the numbers. The above ad gives us a peek: Why 60 million cars? Why 160 million households? Why 60 years? The "We can't drill our way out..." question exposes this even more: "America has vast resources of oil and natural gas – enough oil to power more than 65 million cars for the next six decades and enough natural gas to heat 60 million homes for 160 years, according to government estimates." Why now 65 million cars? Why now 60 million homes? Why now 160 years?

While I can't answer these questions with certainty, I think it comes down to a balancing act. How can they effectively present true figures in a way that doesn't seem dismally pessimistic? One way is by choosing a moderate chunk of time and a moderate chunk of cars and homes and saying, "Look! We can do it!" instead of facing the uglier side of reality that says if rates of consumption continue to grow, and the amount of resources continue to shrink, it will all be gone in relatively little time. There aren't only 60-65 million cars in the United States; there are actually about 200 million registered drivers and somewhere around 250 million motor vehicles². And there aren't only 60 million homes, either, but over 100 million³.

These numbers sound big until you realize they're only a fraction of the whole. It's like when we're told there are x billion barrels of oil in y place, but not told we consume that oil at z barrels/day and it will be gone in n days. If there is 116.4 billion barrels of recoverable oil in U.S. territory, that's a whole lot of oil. But if we keep consuming oil at (or around) 20 million barrels/day, it will only last about 15 years, not 60⁴.

In actuality, though, oil consumption in the United States has fallen ever-so-slightly in the last year or two⁵. Globally, however, demand still rises⁶. With this information we can realize some new things.

First of all, this points to an inevitable reduction in energy use. If they want the resources to last a considerable amount of time, either they only fuel part of the population, or they they give everybody something less than the maximum. But if everyone has all they want and are going ahead full-steam, which is an entirely possible situation, or if rates of consumption in the U.S. start rising again, like they historically have, all of this wonderful energystuff will be gone significantly sooner than projected.

Second, I think it points to the possibility of global trade. If consumption in the U.S. continues to reduce, which is also a possible situation, while it continues to rise in other parts of the world, it's been said that American companies might start to export their product. While this might provide some boost to the American economy, it will reduce the amount of domestic energy matter we can use at home. Without going much deeper into it, this also scratches the surface of a long list of other economic issues to consider. The most obvious might be, What happens if oil becomes so expensive as supplies decrease that it no longer makes economic sense to use?

So in the end, what is it I'm saying? Quite simply, be wary. Question everything, trust no one, do your own research. If a commercial from the oil industry tells you we'll be fine with what we have for a long time, look at the numbers for yourself. Look at what they're telling you, but also at what they aren't. Put it all in perspective of the bigger picture however you can, because it's important.

What I learned from season 3 of The Wire

OK, it wasn't necessarily that I learned anything brand new, but that some of the ideas I had before were reinforced. Basically it comes down to two things that, in the show, were really one: (1) morality is garbage, and (2) legalizing drugs within free zones (I always called them "immunity zones") can work.

When I say that morality is garbage, that's not to say that I'm an evil serpent trying to tempt virgins into eating apples and laying with strange men (isn't that how it goes?). No, it's quite the opposite indeed. Being something of a stoic myself, I'm quite the fond of restraint and don't embrace hedonism. I don't think the world should be a free-for-all; we shouldn't all be shooting up in dark allies and fornicating with everything that moves, or at least not in my opinion. But that's really what it comes down to: morality is based on opinions, at its very core. There are no moral absolutes. Morals are strange things people came up with (like gods) to explain things they didn't yet understand and to keep people in order. I'm not saying that I disagree with all people's morals, because I don't, but living in accordance with these things we're told are absolutes creates circumstances that are at odds with reality.

Humans are the only animals that live by these codes. Every other animal is amoral, doing what needs to be done in order to survive. Nature itself is amoral. So why then do humans, as animals, have these arbitrary codes to live by? Because humans often like to think they are of another order, that they aren't a part of the animal kingdom, and that they don't belong to nature. But in reality, of course, they are. OK, OK... that's not exactly the point. How does it all work in practice?

I'm sure that the writers of the show didn't mean to make a statement on morality or ethics, but to me, someone who is simply a viewer with his own ideas, seeing character after character take exception to "Hamsterdam" just demonstrated how ineffective these imaginary absolute codes are.

For those that haven't seen the show, I'll summarize what happened.

In the first episode of the season, the city council (the head of which is planning on running for mayor, as we find out later) is putting pressure on both the police department and the mayor to reduce crime throughout the city. In a meeting among the higher-ups within the police department, all of the District Commanders are instructed to reduce felonies in their district by 5%. Additionally, they are told that murders city-wide will be held below 275. Though the Commissioner and Deputy don't come right out and say it, it's implied that stats can be falsified and cases can be bumped down in order to meet these demands by telling their men to reduce felonies any way they can, no matter what, or else risk their jobs.

Although he made a brief appearance in season two, this is where we meet Major Howard "Bunny" Colvin for real. In this meeting he acknowledges that there are ways to reclassify felonies, but with some audacity he asks, boldly, "how do you make a body disappear?"

But, as anyone knows, things don't just happen because we say we want them to happen. Real crimes didn't reduce even though that's what the higher-ups had said needed to be done. Late in episode two, the Major addresses his men with what I think is a pretty damn good speech:

Somewheres, back in the dawn of time, this district had itself a civic dilemma of epic proportion. The city council had just passed a law that forbid alcoholic consumption in public places—on the streets, and on the corners. But the corner is, and it was, and it always will be the poor man's lounge. It's where a man wants to be on a hot summer's night. It's cheaper than a bar, catch a nice breeze, watch the girls go by. But a law is a law. The western cops rollin' by, what were they gonna do? If they arrested every dude out there for tippin' back a High Life there'd be no other time for any other kind of police work. And if they looked the other way they'd open themselves to all kinds of flaunting—all kinds of disrespect.

Now, this is before my time when it happened, but somewhere back in the '50s or '60s there was a small moment of god-damn genius by some nameless smokehound who comes out the cut-rate one day and on his way to the corner, he slips that just-bought pint of elderberry into a paper bag. A great moment of civic compromise. That small wrinkled-ass paper bag allowed the corner boys to have their drink in peace, and it gave us permission to go and do police work—the kind of police work that's actually worth the effort, that's worth actually taking a bullet for.

Dozerman, he got shot last night trying to buy three vials. Three! There's never been a paper bag for drugs... until now.

When it comes time to fudge the stats in order to make the department look good, Major Colvin opts instead to keep his integrity intact and to show what really happened if for no other reason than he's sick of the shit. The result? An accurate reflection of what's going on in the streets: a 2% rise in crime. And of course the bosses are pissed, which he simply takes with a smirk.

The next time he addresses his men he directs them to corral all drug trafficking to three designated areas within the district. It's a tough sell, but he gets the officers to accept the orders by telling them it's a tactical decision: once all of the dealers and addicts alike are settled into the free zones, and they're nice and comfortable, they'll go in and make mass arrests. Not long after, the orders are carried out, and with this, Hamsterdam is created.

Major Colvin solved the riddle and throughout the remainder of the season the viewer is shown that it's working brilliantly. Crime drops a staggering 14% across the western district, and even in the free zones, drug use and other petty stuff aside, crime is down in these areas, too. The drug game is safer. Guns aren't allowed and fights are broken up. From what I recall, in the five weeks Colvin's "experiment" ran, there were a handful of ODs, a handful of robberies, and one murder. Compared to the drug scene when it was out on the corners, it's a huge improvement.

Nobody liked what they saw, though. Colvin continued telling anyone who reacted with disgust that it was just a tactical deployment. But of course he was lying, as he himself recognized and acknowledged that as soon as the free zones are raided, the drugs would go back to the corners and crime would go back to the levels it was at before. He'd stumbled upon something that worked, but nobody else wanted to admit it.

Of course Hamsterdamn was ugly. Objectively, though, it was better than before, and this was demonstrated both by statistics and through big-picture thinking.

Imagine someone coming upon it for the first time: If someone were to walk through a clean city where crime and drug use wasn't a problem, and then came across a few blocks where everything wretched was tolerated, it's reasonable to guess such a person would react negatively. In comparison with the clean streets around it, the free zone would look like an absolute hellhole. But it's the very concentration of all of the bad shit in one place that makes it look so bad. Before it was all in one place things were just as bad, just spread out. That spread, in effect, also made larger areas unsafe and ugly. Concentrated ugliness, in comparison with ugliness scattered throughout, might look worse, but it does far less damage.

The fact is, it worked, and if it weren't for moral outrage, it could have continued working, perhaps indefinitely. Nobody who was outraged with the experiment was outraged over it being ineffective. No, quite the contrary: they were outraged over the legalization of drugs, over the surrender in the drug war. They had been defeated in a moral war. Evil had prevailed. Even though that amount of evil had been drastically reduced, even though that evil was affecting fewer people, it had prevailed.

But those outraged morally at the triumph of evil were ignoring the facts, and therefore ignoring reality. It wasn't that evil had prevailed, because the evil was always there. And since both the amount and the affect of it had been reduced, one could argue equally as well (or probably better) that the said evil was being defeated. (This is, generally, how "least harm" ethical codes work.) In reality, crime had been reduced. In reality, everyone in the free zones—buyers and sellers—was already in the drug game beforehand. In reality, the city was safer for everyone. And with needle exchanges and other health services in the areas, it was even safer for the drug users to use drugs. (Personally this isn't an aspect of it I support, but if some people demand it, I have no reason to want to stop it. I think people should be allowed to do as they're naturally inclined to do up until the point where their actions negatively affect those around them or the community. This includes being allowed the freedom to self-destruct. But hey, if you want to keep them alive so they can keep usin', I won't argue.)

The Wire was a TV show, and because of this the situation presented is a hypothetical. Given the realism, across the board, of the show, however, I think it presents it in a believable fashion. I see no large holes in the situation as shown, so I accept it as a reasonable simulation. And given conclusions I've come to in life, I continue to assert the value of removing any artificial filters when looking at issues, whether those filters are moral, political, economic, or otherwise, because doing so allows one to see what is really happening clearly. When we see things clearly, then we can make informed decisions. We don't need the pretext.

But more on the failures of morality and its incompatibility with reality on another day. Or several other days, more likely. I've got more Nietzsche on the reading list and every other topic I've wanted to touch involves moral thinking and filterless thought, so it'll pop up.

Relocation and guilt

In many ways I am completely in love with the place in which I live. But in many other ways, I wish I were somewhere else. The climate and the scenery around here is wonderful, and I'm so happy that there are still wild places here and there. Civilization hasn't bulldozed the whole thing and replaced all of the trees with concreted. (Here I would insert a sarcastic yet, but I'm not so sure it will happen. I'm sure it will be turned to shit in some ways, but my fellow Michiganders seem to love the natural beauty, too, at least to some degree. They might not want to be out in the woods every day, but I can sense an appreciation.)

Last fall I wrote "Hold on... I thought I Was the Nihilist." In it I basically conveyed that we should all root in where we are and make that area the best it can be. Running away, I said, would be cowardly; it would be more noble, more heroic, to face our problems head-on and to solve them. These are still ideas I hold. I don't want to run away. I want to be a warrior.

But I'm torn now between the desire to save what I love, here, and the growing desire to "find my tribe." What I mean is this: a man can stand and fight all by himself—not with legions behind him, not with comrades—but before long his spirit will die and he will be crushed, if not physically, at least mentally. As time goes on it seems more apparent to me that companionship is valuable, just like communities and cultures are important for our psychological health. I've been a loner, more or less, for years. I've become close on some level to some people, but these people still aren't people of my tribe. I need to be with people who are like me, who understand and who have came to the same conclusions, and who will fight the same fights by my side.

A sort of compromise I've come to would be relocating temporarily and then coming back to Michigan so I can have a part in saving it. And I do want to save it (not like a superhero saves a damsel in distress, but like we save our money in the bank). This way, I feel, I could still find my people and take whatever valuable experience would come with that, and upon returning it'd be apparent that I wasn't merely running away. And who knows? Maybe in my quest for my fellow tribes-people I'd find other dislocated Michiganders on a similar journey. Surely they'd want to come back with me and save the land they love as much as I.

But how to go about it? Is it practical? Is it even realistic? It's a semi-daily struggle to answer these questions.

An even more constant struggle is one of guilt. Several times a day I feel overwhelming guilt, but it is especially strong when it comes to purchasing something (one reason I'm glad I never have any money!). For instance, yesterday when I went to buy a meal for myself, I felt guilty that the sandwich had turkey and cheese in it, that it wasn't local, and that it came in plastic packaging that can't be recycled (at least around here).

(I'm not a vegetarian or a vegan, obviously. My feelings of guilt don't come from eating the flesh of an animal, but from my indirect support of factory farming. That turkey was not shot on state land up here during hunting season; it was raised on a farm, slaughtered, and then trucked to Meijer, where they sliced it up and then made a sandwich out of it. I'm as amoral as they come, but I don't like the idea of raising animals in this way for these reasons. I refuse to say "It's wrong!" but I do feel it's cruel. And it's incredibly unnatural, too.)

I do hang out with vegans, and this doesn't help my feelings any. But the vegan diet deserves criticism, too. I consider my diet almost constantly: I'll continue eating meat, but how much? Do I eat paleolithically (Google paleo diet)? Do I become a locavore? Freegan? Horticulturalist? I know that agriculture, especially industrial agriculture is harmful to the world and I should avoid it. I don't feel right buying food at all, truthfully. I know that I'll continue to feel guilty at every meal until I'm eating meat from animals I killed personally, vegetables that either came from a local farmer or a garden in my back yard, and other foods that I collect foraging. I know I'll continue to feel guilty—so then the question arises: How do I cope?

This will be quite the journey.

The lesser of 2 evils is still evil

In a post I made on May 4 of this year I tried to get at my thoughts on voting, but I don't think I did it very well at all. The ideas were there but a bit incoherent. I feel like I just came across as a whiny Wahhhh the system sucks teen-aged drama queen. The last few days I've been thinking about voting a bit more, both because of things I've read and some of the new campaign commercials, and I actually want to express what I think in a more organized way.

First, it should be known that I'm not speaking out or demanding that nobody vote. I'm not even declaring that I won't do so myself. However, I'm leaning towards not doing it. When I renew my driver's license soon (even though I don't drive anymore) I will probably register to vote as well, just in case, but I probably won't do it. Before you, the reader, jump to conclusions and immediately think I'm lazy and apathetic, hear (read) me out.

These are a few conclusions I've come to about voting, life, and everything:

• The world cannot be worked within as-is. This government, this culture, this society, this economy, this lifestyle—all of it—everything promoted by industrialized, liberal democratic, Earth second nation-states that place the economy over the health of their very own populations needs to be changed. Working within it will result in nothing of actual worth; it needs to be erased and replaced with something new.
• The lesser of two evils is still evil, and a vote for evil is a vote for continued evil. OK, so I don't like talking about evil and all that BS, but I'm using a common phrase to illustrate a point.
• The candidates don't address the important issues. I'm not a racist, homophobe, or a tyrant, nor do I enjoy people living impoverished lives of misery, but I am a realist. In the grand scheme of things—that is, when life and the world is considered as a whole, and not merely as a collection of individuals with individual needs—whether or not homosexuals can marry or who lives under the poverty line and where matters little. I won't say they don't matter, but they matter little. To me, sustainable living matters far more. Without sustainability nobody even talks about those issues because they're overshadowed by matters of life and death.

(If you feel these conclusions are unfounded or that I'm wrong anywhere, please, point me in the right direction. Let me know.)

That's nice, but let's talk about voting. "Explain yourself, Tony!" they yell. He follows his new orders.

They first ask, "You say we shouldn't vote for the lesser of two evils. Why do you say this?"

He responds with an answer he hopes is satisfactory:

In just a few words I would answer this question by saying it creates a situation in which every next round is worse than the next. Somewhere along the line the choices between presidential candidates became terrible. Most people didn't like either one, but they had to vote, didn't they? And vote they did. Next time around, same thing. The time after that, same thing again. As one can imagine, after enough cycles it comes down to the thing you hate and the thing you hate slightly less—or, as I put it the last time, you're choosing between mud and shit.

I don't think Barack Obama is evil, of course, nor do I think so about John McCain. They sure as hell aren't good, though. When we think about it, if you also come to the conclusion that a industry-heavy economy ruins the world, you really can't pledge allegiance to any politician, since that is, really, their main concern. You won't hear any of them talk about ending growth, and continued growth (or progress) is the very thing that needs to be ended. You'll hear them talk about poverty, but they'll never acknowledge that it's actually development that created poverty. Gas prices have been and will continue to be a hot topic, but the fact—get that straight, it's a fact—that oil production has either peaked or is set to peak won't be mentioned. The root of every issue is skirted; instead the public is shown a parade of other issues and told those are the ones that matter most. They matter, but they don't matter the most.

(For anyone going "They matter the most to you..." consider this: When the health of the whole suffers, the health of everything within it suffers. When I say ending growth and scaling back industrialization, because it steadily erodes the health of ecosystems, should be our main concern, what I mean is that health must be preserved. So, yes, it is what matters most to me, because I'm concerned with continued health, not illusion and smiles. Dying people smile, too.)

"But this is a democracy!" the crowd chants. "We have the opportunity to fix things!" The citizens feel they can demand better candidates or at least better leadership. In a democracy the people have the power.

The would-be disillusioned voter and the don't like it but gotta do it anyways because it's my civic duty voter alike are left powerless. How is it, when media and business and government—three things the average citizen has nothing to do with—have the most, I won't say control, but influence, over who is chosen as a candidate, and then again who has the opportunity to win the election... how is it that the citizens can say "No! We don't want these candidates! We wan't someone else!"? This isn't a question out of mean-spiritedness or to suggest that "The corporations, man, they're runnin' the world, man," but a sincere one. I truly don't understand what choice the people have within this system, and that's why it needs to be changed. Demanding different choices should work, but it doesn't.

We can look at Ron Paul (even if you don't like him or his politics) as an example that works pretty well. Dr. Paul amassed enormous support both online and in the real world. He might not have had sheer numbers comparable to the most powerful and established candidates, but his supporters were definitely vocal and got him a lot of attention. Even for the latter parts of the race he was several strides ahead of some of the other candidates, some of whom were once front-runners. In fact, locally, the only yard signs I've seen for any Republican candidate have been for Ron Paul; I even saw one the other day, and McCain has been the candidate for months now.

The point I'm trying to make is this: Look at what they did to Ron Paul, and even Mike Gravel and Dennis Kucinich. Being the closest to Americans on the issues, even if many Americans didn't know it, they still received far less airtime, weren't allowed to participate in some of the debates, and were written off in the media as kooks who just wouldn't shut up. Their supporters were furious over all of these things, of course, but what could they do? Demand that they be treated fairly? Demand they receive more airtime? Demand their participation in every public event? It doesn't work that way, and that's just what it comes down to. The supporters threw everything they had behind the candidates and it didn't work. They demanded something else and didn't get it. The end result? Ones that don't quite make the cut getting the chance at the presidency and everyone telling me that if I don't vote I don't have the right to bitch.

"That's right, you don't!"

Shut up for a second and let's look at where we are: Voting for the lesser of two evils ever-perpetuates the situation and the citizens can't simply demand other people—ones that are good and not evil—because when they try it doesn't work.

So I can't bitch about that? It's terrible! We should all be bitching!

I'm not the one that created this situation. In 2004 I couldn't vote, and the situation was dire long before that. The last several generations created this mess, not me, and I don't have to pretend I'm OK with it. It can't be cleaned up by voting over and over for the guy who makes the mess worse a little slower; eventually someone needs to start cleaning it up. If it's not going to be the politicians, maybe it should be us. Barack Obama will make it messier, and so will John McCain. If you're not OK with me staying home this November because you feel like I'm not doing anything to make it better, that's fine. Just let it be known that I'm not OK with you voting to make it worse.

Leave no trace? Let's be realistic.

I've been wanting to spend a lot of time in the woods (read as: several weeks at a time) since last fall. Since I haven't gotten a chance to do that yet, I've just filled my time preparing myself for it. So I've been making fires and taking walks and bike rides and reading and all that kind of fun stuff. And I've learned a lot, truthfully. I've come across so many great things on the Internet; without it I'd probably be hopeless. At the very least it would have taken a ton of trial and error to gain the knowledge I now have. And "a ton of" doesn't really even begin to convey the depth of that statement.

A lot of great stuff on the Web, yes, but a lot of garbage as well. I've mostly come across stuff that I'd consider somewhere in the middle—not the best information I've ever come across, not asinine, but useful in some way. My opinions on all this kind of information are varied, but I have noticed one thing about much of it, and it's a sentiment I don't particularly care for.

Almost everywhere you look you'll be reading about how humans aren't a part of nature.

It's never direct, and therefore, I think it's pretty much a subconscious thing going on. I first picked up on this just by seeing terms including the word survive over and over and over and over and over. I got to thinking about it, and I decided I really don't care for the term "survivalist" at all anymore. I don't actively dislike it, but the very word itself makes it sound like nature is something that we're not supposed to endure. "I'm going to go out and rough it and survive in the wild."

Maybe it's that I sometimes over-analyze the semantics of things, but using survive, versus, say, live, just makes it sound like it's always a situation to be avoided. My interest in "survivalism" was more an interest in primitivism: learning old techniques, going out without much modern equipment, not depending on stores and dollar bills, and that sort of thing. Yes, I've learned some primitive techniques, but the instructions were usually in the context of You might need to do this if it was ever life or death. Our ancestors up until maybe 5000 years ago weren't merely surviving in the wild; they were living in it—it's how they existed. Humans then, just as they are now, were a part of nature. Nature. The wild. Humans then, just as (some) do now, lived in the wild.

And as I've thought about it I've realized that the Leave No Trace wing of backpackers, hikers, and campers also live in this bizarre world in which humans are apart from nature. Don't get me wrong, I'm 100% for and completely enthusiastic about protecting the wild and keeping it beautiful, but I'm really reluctant to put my shit—literally my fecal matter—into my backpack to bring home with me. Especially since I'm going to be putting it into a plastic, non-bio-degradable bag and "disposing" of it when I get home by throwing it in the trash (since it can't be recycled) which we will later burn, anyways. The thing is, I'm going to leave a trace because I'm a living thing and it's unavoidable. And that's OK—really, it is.

I've come across articles about how people shouldn't burn wood because downed trees, or even tree limbs, also play a part in the ecosystem and therefore shouldn't be touched. I've read about how we should take all the necessary precautions to ensure no plant life is harmed when we go for a walk in the woods. I've been told to carry my poo with me and to stay out of water sources. It's not even a good idea to eat anything which wasn't brought into the woods with you in a plastic bag, some say!

A wee bit silly, don't you think?

For as long as people have known about fire they've used it, and honestly, I'd prefer to wield that fire in a more natural way, even if it involves burning some sticks lying on the ground. But enjoy your gas stove.

I'm not going to trample everything I see, and I'll try to make my impact small, but if I run over a few ferns or bushes in the process, it's not the end of the world; most of them are seasonal and die and grow back every year, anyways. And by the way, I just took a 20 minute walk on a deer path earlier today. (Other) Animals leave a trace.

Oh, and their feces litters the woods, too. My shit stinks and I don't want to take the chance of it getting on my clothes. If a squirrel digs it up because he's so intrigued by the smell of it then let him enjoy playing with my dung.

If it's hot, I'm going to swim. If I can find something edible, I'm going to eat it. And I hate hate hate that plastic is so common and that it has such a negative impact on the world, so I'll avoid it as much as possible.

But other than all that, I'll make sure my tracks are covered and that things are (mostly) how I found them. I'm not going to agonize or dwell over it, though. I'm alive: I consume things, I leave waste, and that's the way it is. I'm not going to use the woods as my private playground and trash it, because I love it. I'm not going to pretend it's a place I've broken into, either, and pretend I risk arrest. Rather, I'm going to enjoy my time responsibly and healthily. Crap makes things grow, anyways; didn't you know that?

If you're short-sighted, please shut up

I was just checking to see if a letter I wrote to the Record Eagle the other day had been published yet, and came across something that was kind of maddening. I don't feel like I'm in any place to write a response, though, because it's not my area, but I also just wrote a letter. Even though it hasn't been printed yet (or might not be), I know they prefer to limit people. That and 200-word letters in the newspaper aren't the best medium for discussing philosophy or "the system."

(For anyone that's wondering, my letter was to inquire about all the Red Pines I've seen dead across the state. At first I thought this was just a problem in my neighborhood, but then I saw clumps of dead trees in Gaylord, and then across Leelanau county when I went to North Bar the other day, and now, everywhere I go I'm seeing dead trees. I haven't heard or read anything about what's going on, and I'm wondering why. There is a lot of worry about Emerald Ash Borers, but I don't even know what these are.)

Since it'd probably be good conduct to actually show what it is I'm upset about, so I don't just seem like a fuming idiot (still a possibility), here is the letter, in its entirety.

Sell that property!

My letter is to just voice my opinion on the proposed theme park in Crawford County.

I don't feel it is the state's right to suppress any growth that could be possible here. Yes we have nice rivers and streams, lakes and forest. But the area that would be used is nothing but half-dead trees and empty area. There are no recreational benefits. It sits and rots, just like many of our businesses and full-time citizens. It's time for the state to get off its butt and allow this area to grow!

Our National Guard is slim to none, not spending like they did in the '70s; gas prices have put many homes back into the hands of banks. Let us take the chance to make this area become what it used to be: a place that all people would like to visit, even if they don't want to live here.

Sell that property, Mr. Lansing, and let us take what comes, be it good or bad. Actually, it couldn't get much worse here!

Pat Kangas
Grayling

It can get much worse, Pat: The government could sell all of "their" land, cut down all the forests, and build stupid shit all over the place. When I read your letter I was this close (damn... google a silly saying and get exactly what you want) to audibly yelling at the nearest inanimate object. I'm always worried about being surrounded by idiots who will do idiotic things at the first idiotic chance, and your letter has reinforced that worry and assured me that I'm not just paranoid.

First is the problem of growth itself, and the opinions surrounding it. To paraphrase one of my new favorite men, Dr. Al Bartlett, the problem with what is called "smart growth" is that it's still growth! As long as growth is thought of positively, especially if that growth is "smart," then nobody will ever want to draw the line; as long as people will like what is going to be put up, they can tolerate just a little destruction. I can admit that even I think this way, to a point. For example, I don't have a problem cutting down some trees to build a log cabin (then again, I don't think this is comparable at all).

It all goes a little something like this:

Individually we can rationalize these changes in our heads and decide that, yes, they were good decisions. When dozens or hundreds of these changes add up, however, we realize we've fucked up. And by the time we've actually realized it, collectively, it's too late; we can't bring back what was lost because forests don't grow themselves overnight.

Then, of course, there is the problem of the "valueless" forest. Thinking of forested land in terms of value to human beings is problematic for several reasons. In monetary value we see obvious flaws, because forests are not merely resources but entire ecosystems. And then there are problems with the human perception of forests; we (humans) haven't valued them for what they really are for a long, long time because the societies we've built have become so anthropocentric that anything not directly beneficial to our standard of living and ease of life doesn't really matter. "[N]o recreational benefits"? Who fucking cares? If we only cared about the recreational value of land, wouldn't it make sense that the entire country would be covered in amusement parks and shopping malls? Of course, it's not (yet). Forested land that just "sits and rots" might have "no recreational" value, but it's doing exactly what it needs to do to continue being a living ecosystem. I don't care if you value that or not, Pat, but whether you like it or not healthy ecosystems are necessary for everything. Everything.

Damn it, Pat, the economy isn't what needs protecting, the rivers and streams, lakes and forests are! Unfortunately, I'm sure there are many more like you, and this has me worried as hell. I've been reading a book about global deforestation (Strangely Like War: The Global Assault on Forests), so maybe it's just made me a bit sensitive. I have a feeling there is genuine reason to worry, though.

While reading this book I've had mixed feelings: On the one hand I'm disgusted at this erasure of forested area, but on the other hand I've felt good that the forests of northern Michigan, home to you and me, haven't fought this war (yet). I'm not sure that feeling of relief stands on its own anymore, though. And I've had worries about what might happen in the coming years that have involved this, as well.

I quite noticeably celebrate this current economic downturn as it possibly signifies radical changes and the death of an entire way of life. I also worry about what it will take to get from here to there, though. To combat high gas prices you can bet your ass that they will drill for oil everywhere they can, even if that oil only lasts a little while. Local business are going to start dropping like flies, leaving big chain stores to rule the roost everywhere you go. Finally—and this is the one that pertains to the subject at hand—our forests will disappear. Private land owners, feeling the squeeze, are going to start selling their property to the highest bidders. Everyone who owns "useless land," or land they aren't doing anything with (making it pointless to own since it has tons of potential for profit), will start clearing it and selling all of the wood for lumber, paper, firewood... whatever. And of course the government won't be far behind.

This scares the living shit out of me. To think that beautiful northern Michigan might soon be another desert (but of course with your selection of Wal-Marts and poisoned lakes), well, that's just one of the most terrifying thoughts I could have. No trees, just useless sand in which nothing grows. Giant superstores on every street. Oil derricks on every corner. Weekly droughts. No local food—eventually no food at all. Sounds post-Apocalyptic, doesn't it? Fortunately, it can all be prevented: All we need to do is say "No."

Of course, maybe I'm wrong: This land might truly be worthless in ecological terms as well as economic—I don't know the land and don't know what it's like. If there are not critters and it's just a rotting pine plantation (read as: not a forest), then maybe cutting it down will be OK. If so, enjoy the hell out of your park. If you encourage the local government to continue cutting, however, then I'll be sending a big Fuck You! your way.

Cheers.

In other news, CORRUPT has put up the profile I wrote up on Marcus Aurelius. I haven't yet decided if I'm going to put it on this site or not. You can read it here.

Link Storm #1

I've put some things on hold (meaning a combination of: I've been procrastinating, I've been distracted with other things, I've been busy, and I injured my hand), so I thought this would be a decent way to clear myself of distractions and get myself in a productive state of mind today. All of these are links I've come across in the past few days that I have found interesting; some are related, some aren't, but I like them all.

Making a large batch of biodiesel ^Video

Premise: Anyone who owns a diesel-powered automobile, whether it's a truck or car, can use old foodstuffs to run it.
Why it's notable: Anyone can do it, including me! My brother's first car might end up being an '88 Toyota diesel, and if he does end up buying it, this is what I'm going to encourage.
Length:A little under 25 minutes
Source: TreeHugger

Atlas of Our Changing Environment

Premise: Human beings have irreversibly changed the landscape.
Why it's notable: Like Edward Burtynsky does and did with Manufactured Landscapes, the average citizens are given a chance to see what's going on.
Length: Depends on what you click
Source: TreeHugger

"The Only Moral Abortion is My Abortion"

Premise: Anti-abortion protesters get abortions, too, y'know.
Why it's notable: Blowing that mind of yours (the sheer stupidity!).
Length: 3528 words... but it reads pretty quickly
Source: Ran Prieur

Oil and Food Push Consumer Prices Higher in May

Premise: Everything is getting more expensive... duh.
Why it's notable: Seeing how everyone scrambles to cover up and deny a simple truth: We're hitting a brick wall and things are going to get bad.
Length:About 500 words
Source: Google News

More Processing of Food Means Less Price Inflation

Premise: Our junk food is going to continue costing less than our good food.
Why it's notable: Families feeling the squeeze, like my own, will opt for the cheaper, highly-processed, less healthy food instead of anything with nutritional value. I hope to explore this in a new post soon, looking at certain things that will continue to get worse before they get better.
Length: Short
Source: Itself

Reverse Graffiti ^Video

Premise: Making pretty pictures using what's already there.
Why it's notable: The world is filthy and we made it that way, it's just that sometimes it takes someone else to show us that. (Watch this video, as well.)
Length: 3 minutes, 33 seconds
Source: TreeHugger, again

U.S. says ending trade barriers key to food crisis

Premise: If they would just let us give them food they'd be fine!
Why it's notable: Self-gratifying posturing and ignorance of the fact that charity multiplies misery, self-gratifying posturing and ignorance of the fact that increased food production only fuels population growth, and self-gratifying posturing and ignorance of the fact that people in the third world have a genuine desire to be self-sufficient.
Length: Short
Source: Yahoo! News

And now I'll turn my attention to other things. I'll make no excuses and just get them done. Next I'll be telling you about the highly esteemed philosopher/emperor of Rome, Marcus Aurelius.

(Since summer is here I figured it'd be a good idea to change the default colors to reflect that. They're brighter!)

Understanding cause-effect

This is a half (more or less) complete post that I've been trying to get at for the last several days, and it's been distracting me from other work, so I figured I'd bang out at least a good chunk of it. I'm going to add another part about the affect of immigration on population growth, and then conclude it (I guess you could say) by saying, basically, cut the emotional bullshit out of your thoughts when it comes to things that are important. I'm considering submitting the final version to ANUS when I get around to finishing it.

People seem to let a lot of things get in the way when they try to think about the issues we face. We moralize, we emotionalize, we are intellectually dishonest, sometimes we don't pay close enough attention, and other times we're just plain stupid. I've been noticing two important camps with drastically different visions for the future lately. Of course, both of these camps have cliques within them, and there are a handful of others, as well, but I feel these two are the most important.

The first camp is the one I would say I belong to: the realists. These people are rational, logical, have keen observational skills, often they have good problem solving skills, and they do not sensationalize issues (well, most of them, at least). These people often make good scientists, mathematicians, engineers... that kind of thing. The best of them are skilled in debate and build rock-solid arguments. But the important thing to remember is why these arguments are so hard to defeat, and it's super simple: they're constructed on facts. These people understand why things happen and they don't just make it all up.

But the opposing camp call them "doomers" and claim everything they say is a lie, yet they never present facts or figures to back their claims up. Way to start a non-biased analysis, right? OK, fair enough.

Here's a short list of characteristics the people in this camp have, presented with as little bias as possible:

• They are full of hope and optimism. They believe that the human mind is capable of amazing things—that the scientific progress we've made in the last several hundred years can only continue, successfully navigating human-kind away from any hardship it might encounter.
• They don't think we have anything to worry about. Since human progress has been so awe-inspiring, and since they've gotten so good at producing new technologies, it'd be silly to think there is anything to fear. We've come this far, right? Any problem can be solved. Besides, they claim, nothing the doomers say is true anyways. People made their arguments 200 years ago and they were obviously wrong.
• They're economists and humanists. There are billions of people living in poverty, but this is just one of the problems that science and technology will soon solve. People are precious and they should all be happy, they believe. They'll do their best to bring everyone else a modern lifestyle, and everyone can live harmoniously.

It's hard to name this camp since they are quite varied; therefore, it's also quite difficult to pin any specific belief-set to them. Generally, though, they're proud of human progress and want it to continue. They believe technological advances have truly moved humans to another plane of existence apart from the other animals and that they're special because of this. They call anyone who questions their beliefs a "doomer" because, they claim, their opponents are enemies of progress or have some selfish hidden agendas. Their opponents don't want to help the impoverished; their opponents want to live like cavemen; their opponents are just mad that they aren't rich and glad that they aren't poor.

(I do believe it's worth noting that there actually is a camp of doomers out there—sort of, at least—who consistently claim the worst with little reason to think so and little to enforce their claims. This is rather unimportant, however, and mostly insignificant to the rest of my post.)

Given what is going to follow, the above might seem a little unnecessary, since my aim with this post is pretty specific. I've written this today with the hope that I can do a little to explore why people can be so stupid when it comes to helping the impoverished.

First of all, I can say this: Poverty is pretty terrible. I don't take joy in watching people suffer and I don't think people should be drinking water that has had shit dumped in it, or eat fish that practically glow, and I don't think they should have to collect recyclables to scrape up some meager income to keep them and their families alive. This is a terrible way to live and nobody should have to do any of these things. But I can also say this: Most, if not all, of the popular methods of helping these impoverished people fail. Utterly.

Poor people across the world do fucked up shit. Besides the few things mentioned above, they'll do practically anything they can to gather a few bucks. They might suffocate themselves in caves to do mining for precious metals and gems, or they might move hundreds (or thousands) of miles away from their families to help extract some oil. They might (over-)fish, steal, trade goods illegally, work in sweatshops, learn English and American accents and bother people on telephones, or join up with the local militia to destroy their neighbors because so-and-so gave them a gun and told them to. They do this fucked up shit because they have no other choice—there is no other work. They can't just not work because a few hundred years ago the colonial oppressors introduced them to the capitalist system that worked for them. They forced the natives into this system and told them it was superior to the way they were living. Therefore, the natives' lives now require income—so they do whatever they can, no matter how shitty, to get it. So instead of farming or hunting or foraging, or living any other subsistence lifestyle, they're required to make money because the capitalist system demands it. They work, even if the work is terrible, or they literally die. They have no choice.

It's not surprising in the least to hear about the severely degraded state of the third world. Of course they'll do anything for money; of course they can't afford modern amenities (they can't even afford the necessities!); and of course they're causing incredible damage to the environment. I hear all the stories and they really can be heartbreaking. Everyone hollers about how badly they need help, but what can be done? Can we give them a modern lifestyle? Can we make them all kings?

It's important to understand that this system operates largely on this principle—on this division of labor, of this life is good for some while shitty for others mode of operation.

. . .

[More to come. I don't feel like typing because I need to get sleep. I think I'm going fishing tomorrow. Open to suggestions, and I always am.]

Meeting someone new

"So what do you do?" I'm was asked by a man I'd just met.

"Well, what do you mean?" I responded at first. "I do a lot of things, same as anybody. I was riding my bike earlier and now I'm talking to you. You're going to have to narrow things down for me a bit."

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean. What do you do to earn a living? Where do you work? Where does your money come from?"

"Ah... of course." In the least condescending tone I could muster I told him "I find your question, and its answer, quite uninteresting, if I may be frank."

"Excuse me?" He was perplexed. I don't think I found quite the tone I was looking for.

"Your question," I began again. "I find it completely uninteresting. Both the question itself and any answer I could possibly give would be boring, stupid... uninteresting."

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean."

"OK, then allow me to explain. It's like this: As I'm sitting here I'm thinking about all the possible answers a person could give you. I think of all the people I know and wonder what their answers would be. One would say 'I sell paint'; another would respond 'I sell overpriced coffee drinks.' Others could tell you about sitting at the front desk at a fancy hotel and selling office supplies, and another still could explain how he washes dishes. Of of all these people's replies you may or may not find one you're pleased with, but, in all honesty, I don't think that's what you were after to begin with. You never cared."

"Look, man, I was just trying to make conversation. I wasn't trying—"

"That's exactly my point."

Silence.

"You don't care what I do for a living, nor do you care about the livelihoods of my acquaintances. It's not that you're selfish or that you're an asshole—although I suppose maybe you could be, but then, who am I to know or to suggest such things?—but you were just trying to fill the silence with the mindless chatter we moderns have become accustomed to. 'New haircut, Steve?' 'Boy, the weather sure is odd!' 'How about this presidential race!' 'Did you catch Lost last night?'"

"What if you're right? So what? What's your point? You think you're Gandhi?"

"Of course not. My point was exactly what I said earlier: I found your question uninteresting and insincere. If you really cared to get to know me or my personality you would have asked me something else. You could have asked me about the kinds of things I enjoy. Do I like art? Music? Literature? Politics? Do I hate them? Maybe I have hobbies. You might have asked me how I spent my day and if I have any big plans for the near future. I would have told you that my day has been pretty uneventful but that, yes, I do have a big trip coming up. You could have asked me what I'm passionate about and what pisses me off. That would have been a bit out of left field and totally unexpected, but the conversation that would have ensued would have been infinitely more interesting than explaining what it is I do for money and where is that I do it and then telling you I hate it—which you would have expected anyways. Don't you think?"

At first he glanced around him to the surrounding people with a would you get a load of this guy? look on his face. Turning back he addressed me once again.

"Yeah, I guess so," was his response.

[The above is fictional, although it is likely I'll try out similar conversations from here on out.]

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