A colleague just sent me this article, in which the environmental, social, and economic benefits of ‘biomass energy’ (read ‘clearcutting forests’) are questioned.
Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba has always had a sharp-pointed pseudopod for those ‘greenies’ who, in the name of ‘preserving the environment’, burn wood to heat their homes. Failing to recognize that, per unit of heat, that log is far less efficient, and far more polluting, than the gas, oil, or even coal against which they’re protesting. Not to mention the environmental impact of felling those trees.
Might could be that We the People of this planet Earth come up with an energy strategy that is less damaging and more sustainable than the one we now use. But none will be perfect. The ones we have now don’t come close. And all of those do something that hacks somebody off. Somebody with the power to shut down the project. Like the biomass operations in my colleague’s article. Or the windmills in California that stand idle, because the spinning blades do a number on birds, and the birdwatchers set up a vigil …
In YFNA’s opinion, all of our energy strategies, known or foreseen, will continue, at a greater or lesser rate, the impacts on the planet that our current energy strategy is known to generate. All but one …
Bartender: “Hope this one finally drowns your sorrows, bud. It’s the last one you’ll get from me.”
Customer: “Yeah. Thanks.”
Bartender: “Wanna talk about it?”
Customer: “No … Yeah. Nolanda left me.”
Bartender: “Your girl?”
Customer: “Yeah. We had a cohabitation contract. Didn’t matter.”
Bartender: “What happened?”
Customer: “Parenting permit denied.”
Customer: “Said the only reason she signed a cohab with a jackass like me – that’s what she called me, a jackass, can you believe it? – was because she wanted a baby real bad, and I had the money …”
Bartender: “Buddy, pipe down! Are you nuts?!?”
Bartender: “What the hell are you doing in this bar?”
Customer: “It was open …”
Bartender: “And you didn’t want to show your face in your part of town. Listen, buddy, the guys who come here, you can put any ten of ’em together and they can’t even think of havin’ enough doughremi to apply for a parenting permit. And if one of ’em knocks a girl up without a permit, the greenie cops knock ’em down. Guy and gal and kid together, along with as many of the sibs, parents, cousins and whatnot that they can catch. And they can catch ’em, trust me. Somebody here finds out about you, he’s likely to snuff you just for spite. He and a dozen of his buds.”
Customer: “And the greenies …”
Bartender: “Would probably fry the triggerman because they can, and then hand out medals to the rest as accessories to population reduction. Two counts.”
Bartender: “Yeah. Oh. Y’know, buddy, for a fatcat you’re pretty damned clueless. Git on home and wait a week, there’ll be plenty of chicks beggin’ to take your bread. Stay here, and I guarantee you, you won’t be worryin’ ’bout this Nolanda or nobody else before the night’s done. Now beat it.”
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2010 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.