this ain't livin'

Treasure Island the Second | 30Jun06

Treasure Island was built in 1939 for the Golden Gate International Exposition. Dirt from the bay was dredged up, along with rocks, to create a 393 acre playground for the world’s fair in San Francisco. After the fair, the utterly flat island was going to be turned into an airfield, but the Navy worked out an exchange and took over the island as a base, which it ran until 1997.

The Navy totally reshaped the island, removing most of the world’s fair buildings and establishing a new layout. When the island was opened to limited public use, the apartments on the island were taken over by a leasing company, and are rented out to a variety of people. Much of the island, however, consists of abandoned and dangerous remains of the military occupation. These, of course, have been thoroughly explored by the residents, who form a community all their own within the environment of the city.

Many of the residents of the island are low income, and some belong to the job corps program, which attempts to get youth out of the inner city and into the active working world. Some people claim that the island is unsafe or scary because of this–I certainly didn’t get that sense there. Indeed, I felt a stronger sense of community and connection there than anywhere else in the Bay Area. Walking around the island, we said hello to everyone we ran into. Cars driving through waved at us and we waved back. I saw joggers and people walking dogs through the maze of decaying buildings.

It’s an amazing place, half occupied and half abandoned.

From the island, you can clearly see the work being done on the new span of the Bay Bridge. I’m hoping they will fix the entries and exits to and from the island as well, because they are rather hairy (especially the east-bound entrance onto the island, where one goes from a 65 mile an hour freeway into a sharp u-turn). The new span of the bridge will be a single pier suspension, which should be quite incredible to see.

I was captivated by the building above, which the fire department uses for burn practice. I can’t imagine what the original use for it might have been.

There is quite a sizeable depot of assorted items, including old military vehicles, computer parts, and piles of twisted metal. It’s an immensely large warehouse–this image only gives you an idea of what’s in there.

This is a rather impressive drill bit, and another shot of the storage area.

This is the abandoned bowling alley–there’s a massive movie theatre next door. When it was a military base, Treasure Island must have been a fun posting. There are all sorts of buildings there that were obviously once interesting places to go. A self-contained entertainment centre, in a way.

Much of the island is badly contaminated, and these signs litter empty lots. Behind this sign is a group of apartments identical to those being leased by island residents. The friends I was visiting tell me the apartments are in mint condition, behind the fences and the big caution signs.

Looking back towards Berkeley, with a convenient place to sit.

I’m sad to read of the proposal for a development on Treasure Island which would reshape the island yet again. The plan is to essentially turn the island into another outpost of suburbia, rather than a unique community. Especially given the toxic state of the island, I’m unclear on how exactly the company intends to turn it into a “green utopia.” It will also be a great tragedy to lose all the low income housing, the wide variety of residents from young professionals to punk squatters. Treasure Island is a magical place by its very nature, and I think it should be left that way, personally.

Tomorrow: pictures of the more industrial parts of the island.

[Treasure Island]

Treasure Island | 29Jun06

Today I went to Treasure Island. I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so here’s a picture of a pirate:

I would like to point out that I didn’t violate copyright by taking this picture, whoever did the graffiti did.

More pictures to follow tomorrow when I am not exhausted.

Fort Bragg Intrigue | 28Jun06

I was walking down Main Street this morning on my way to an appointment when I noticed all the utility poles, including the ridiculous faux cast iron utility poles on Laurel and Franklin, had been papered with signage. I made a note to return after my meeting to investigate the situation further.

To my surprise, when I went back out into the downtown area an hour later looking for the signs, this is what I saw:

Someone had gone through the city and removed the signs from every pole they could find, apparently. After a bit of searching, I managed to track one down:

Here’s the text of the sign, if you are having trouble reading:

Danger
Protect Your Children!
Dioxins: the most dangerous chemical known to effect human health, found on G-P mill site
Do NOT view fireworks from the G-P Mill Site
This flier distributed by Concerned Citizens of the Coast

The signs are multilingual:

This sort of thing is not at all uncommon here. Various groups post things flaming issues, or each other, and it makes for good old fashioned entertainment. This is the great thing about living in a country where we are allowed to do things like this–I can make a bunch of posters that say “Dave Turner poops” and post them all over town, if I so desire. Especially with issues like this, which pit the traditionally blue collar roots of the town against the upstart hippies, posters are part and parcel of the debate.

So here’s my question:

Clearly, the signs were put up overnight or in the small hours of the morning, because they weren’t here yesterday. It is equally clear that someone felt passionately that they should be removed, because I had to search to find the two above. So who removed them? City Hall boosters not wanting tourists to get a bad impression of Fort Bragg? An enraged private citizen? Someone in the pay of G-P? Who are the Concerned Citizens exactly and what is their deal? I applaud them for their activism, but I think they might want to consider something a little more difficult to shuffle under the carpet.

The posters strike me as a little shrill, but also a good public service announcement. There are dioxins on the Georgia Pacific site. This is not in question–G-P itself admitted that dioxins were found in ash piles, ground soil (up to nine feet deep!), and in “sediment from various ponds up to 14 feet.” The level of concentration at which the dioxins were found exceeds federal standards, and now the City is facing cleanup of the site before any grand schemes can be realized.

The Advocate has been reporting on the contaminents like it’s a major shocker–it’s not. Most people in the area were aware that the mill site was hazardous, and that G-P probably engaged in some questionable business practices while they were busy destroying the ecosystem. Now, it appears that some civic controversy may be brewing over the issue, if these posters are any sign.

Dioxins, for those not in the know, are not good things. I feel like the skull is a pretty good indicator, and certainly no one is going around town putting up signs that say “DANGER! Kittens on G-P Mill Site!” Dioxins have been linked with birth defects, cancers, erosion of dental enamel, endometriosis, diabetes, immune compromise, and respiratory illness. They are not good things for humans to be around in high levels, and they are also a common side effect of industry. Globally, we are trying to work to reduce the amount of dioxins, because they are persistent, and they bioaccumulate, and neither of these things are groovy.

It is likely that G-P burned treated wood and utilized the incinerator for trash burns (indeed, the hospital used to take advantage of the incinerator before they got in trouble). As a result, the mill site is contaminated–probably with a variety of things, not just dioxins. Now, the City is curious to know exactly how contaminated, and so is the state–to that end, full testing reports have been requested.

The question is what we are going to do about it. The mill was obviously trying to negotiate sale of the land to the city before the extent of pollution was realized. Are we going to try to make it a Superfund site? We can’t afford the cleanup and the mill is probably going to weasel out of it, if they can. Can we force the mill to clean it up, and how will the entire affair affect the future of the land? There doesn’t seem to be much rational dialogue on the issue.

It’s going to be interesting to see what happens with the fireworks. Traditionally, people have snuck onto the mill property to watch because it affords the best view. Last year, it was opened up to parking–this year, apparently police will guard the area to make sure no one enters the site. Since G-P hasn’t released the exact locations where dioxins were discovered, I’m not certain how dangerous the property is–after all, I and many others have been wandering around out there for years without any noticable ill effects. But this area does have a higher rate of cancer than one might expect, and this might be one of the reasons why.

This is one of the things that goes hand in hand with the changes Fort Bragg is experiencing. We are more environmentally conscious now, and things like toxins are an issue. Especially since tourists aren’t going to be that interested in visiting a contaminated area. Make no mistake: declaring the site a Superfund would be a disaster for county tourism. But I think it’s important that this issue be out in the open and discussed, not hidden behind closed doors, because this is something that affects our entire community. I don’t care if it would hurt our economy: I want to see the right thing done, and I would like to see G-P exposed for its role, as well.

Others probably feel differently. Such is life in any town, large or small.

[dioxins]

Set in our ways | 28Jun06

Michael Beauer’s writing about thwart[ing] a chef’s creativity got me thinking about the tendency many of us have to order the same dishes over and over again. Sometimes we call them old standards or favourites, but mostly it seems to be a choice motivated by fear–we eat what we know in case we don’t like another dish. Eating out, for me, is about experimentation, exploring new flavours. Where’s the fun in always getting the same thing and ignoring the rest of a multi-item menu?

Mark Gordon had a great comment when he said that he would like diners to trust the restaurant and the kitchen to produce excellent food at every visit. This is why he changes his menu frequently, he explains, because he wants his guests to try something new, to eat outside the box, and to enjoy it. This is a sentiment I can agree with–the restaurants I frequent have my business not because they do one thing really well, but because they do lots of things really well, and I can feel “safe” ordering anything from the menu and knowing that it would be delicious. Diners who consistently order the same thing might want to question their reasons for doing so. Where’s the joy in eating out if you can’t rely upon the staff to cook really good food for you?

Although I do wish more establishments here offered an amuse bouche. Perhaps because most people in Fort Bragg don’t know what an amuse bouche is, I suspect this is a wish which will never be realized. But we can all dream.

I was thinking about the issue of changing menus when I ate at the Albion River Inn recently. Although they have a formidable wine list, the menu remains much the same as it did a year ago, or three years ago. I can’t help but think this must be awfully boring for the kitchen staff, who never have much of an opportunity to experiment. It seems like it would terribly dull to prepare the same dishes over and over again, to never play around with the menu and pique appetites in a new and interesting way. Now, granted, there are probably thousands of potential food and wine pairings, and if I was more of an oenophile I would probably frequent Albion just for the opportunity to taste their cellar. But when it comes down to it, I eat out to explore, revel in, and embrace food, not to get lime ginger prawns every time I go to the Albion.

The Bistro, on the other hand, changes the menu seasonally, and it’s often tweaked inbetween. This makes eating there exciting, especially at the change of seasons. I never know what’s going to pop up next and the change of menu usually represents a crisis for me because I want to order six things at once. But it also tells me that they are taking advantage of seasonal produce and wild crafted products. It signals to me that they are working with the best ingredients possible at the time, and that’s what makes each dish there so distinct and so good. I feel confident ordering anything from the menu there (although I do adore creamy pasta, more than is probably good for me), because I know that it will be prepared with inspiration and dedication. Not many places up here play around with their menus, perhaps because they feel oppressed by old standards.

It’s a sad thing to see a restaurant become famous for one dish (like, say, crabcakes). As a result of the fame, diners always expect to see that dish on the menu, prepared in exactly the same way, and they are unwilling to explore other options. (Thereby shafting themselves out of some amazing food experiences.) It’s a sad thing when outcry erupts over the removal of one item from the menu. Apparently the culture of fear extends to the dining room as well.

Know Your Rights | 27Jun06

Several years ago, I was trundling along Highway One north of town taking a friend home. It was late at night, we were both wearing pajamas, and neither of us had identification. Predictably, Dan Porter pulled me over for exceeding the speed limit (by approximately seven miles an hour, as I recall). Clearly, he was fishing for something better than a traffic violation.

I explained that I didn’t have my license with me, and repeated the number for him twice as well as providing him with my registration. Luckily for me, I was driving my own car, so the registration matched the information on file for my identification. I was courteous and respectful with him, but also firm, and declined his request to search my car. He let me go, probably deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, because I knew my rights and wasn’t afraid to assert them.

Most of us don’t know our rights, and I would recommend that if you aren’t acquainted with your rights in regards to police, that you watch this video produced by a former ACLU staffer. It’s a little cheesy (especially when the cops sniff a bong), but well worth watching. He goes over three major interactions between civilians and police–traffic stops, on the street stops, and house calls.

Police are intimidating. They know this, and use it to their advantage. Most officers are just trying to do their jobs, but they have also been trained in techniques which are designed to result in arrest, even if it means compromising your rights. Resist the intimidation, know your rights, and avoid unfortunate scenes.

Three main rights apply to police interactions:

The fourth amendment protects you from unreasonable search and seizure. To use the fourth amendment, take sensible precautions–make sure you don’t have illegal items in plain view and that they are secured in a private area. When pulled over, roll up your windows. If asked to exit a vehicle, lock the door behind you. Likewise with a house call–step outside and close the door to speak with police. Make it clear that you have no intention of allowing them into your car, home, or personal belongings by saying: I do not consent to a search. If you are searched illegally, any evidence recovered could be thrown out of court, along with your charges.

Some exceptions to the search rule: if police have probable cause, they can search you. Probable cause means evidence, so make sure that private things are kept in private. Don’t throw beer cans out of your car, don’t leave a pipe lying on the seat, and so forth. A hunch is not grounds for a search. There are also a few situations where consent is implied: entering a commercial aiport with the intent to fly allows airport security to go through your bags and over your person. Crossing an international border allows border officers to search you and your vehicle. Entering private property such as a concert or club gives permission for a search, although once you are inside you can deny search requests and leave. Also, if you are arrested, you can be searched, but the goal here is avoiding arrest.

The fifth amendment protects you from testifying against yourself, and also entitles you to due process of law. Don’t confess to a crime–in a traffic stop, for example, when the officer says “do you know why I pulled you over,” don’t say “uh, I guess I was speeding,” say: “no sir/ma’am, why did you pull me over today?” Police love using open ended questions and turns of phrase to get you to say something: but you can turn it right back to them by responding to a question with a question.

Do not lie to police. If answering a question would incriminate you, then don’t answer. The cop might hassle you in the short term but ou cannot oblige you to respond. Protect yourself by not talking too much. The police love talkers–you can dig yourself an excellent hole.

Finally, the sixth amendment entitles you to counsel, and don’t be afraid to demand a lawyer. You can explain that you prefer not to answer any more questions without a lawyer present, and leave it at that.

In traffic stops, the officer can ask for license (identification) and registration because the license serves as your permit to drive a motor vehicle. Memorizing your license number is an excellent idea for those times you are caught without it, although technically you should not be driving without a physical license in hand. (Or pocket, it’s hard to shift while holding a license.) The officer cannot search your car without probable cause, however, so don’t give it to ou. Keep your car clean and tidy to make it clear that there’s nothing concealed in the pile of garbage in the back seat. Ask if you are free to go–the officer must have a reason to detain you, because otherwise it’s an obstruction of due process. And don’t fight tickets for traffic infractions, especially if you have illegal material in the car. Accept the ticket calmly and politely, and dispute it in traffic court.

On the street, you are not required to give identification in most states. Once again remain courteous, but firm. Don’t run from or attempt to evade police, respond to questions with questions, and keep your cool. Remember: you do not need to incriminate yourself and you are not obligated to respond to questions from police, even innocuous ones like “where are you headed tonight?”

The Supreme Court has ruled numerous times that your house is your most secure place. In order to enter a residence, police must have a warrant. Think of them like vampires–they can’t enter unless you invite them in. If police come to your home, step outside and close the door to deal with them. Ask them why they are there and respond to their concerns. Do not consent to a “required” or “routine” search of your home, because there is no such thing. Demand that they present a warrant if they wish to enter your home.

But also be a responsible host. Keep an eye on your guests. Make sure all entrances to your home are secure. Close windows and blinds. Be aware of what’s going on, because ultimately you are responsible for a party given at your home. Above all, please don’t let your guests drink and drive.

Some general tips in dealing with police: always be courteous and respectful. These are men and women doing their jobs, and there’s no reason to hassle or back talk them. Call an officer Sir or Ma’am and use other respectful language with ou. Do not lie, raise your voice, or attempt to intimidate back. You are a rock. Remain calm but firm, respond politely while making sure they don’t overstep their boundaries. Do not touch or resist police, because it can land you with a felony charge. Be aware that especially in high crime areas, police are sensitive to their safety, so don’t make sudden movements and make sure your hands are showing at all times. In traffic stops, for example, place your hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel and wait for the officer to ask for your paperwork. (Imagine how it looks for a policeman’s point of view: ou pulls the car over and the driver immediately leans over out of view to get something out of the glove box. That something could be registration, but it could also be a weapon.)

If you are reasonable with police while firm about your rights, they are going to be reasonable with you.

And above all, remember the “big three”: I do not consent to a search, am I free to go, and I will not say anything further without a lawyer present. Police can be scary, or not: ultimately, it’s your choice.

[police]

The Air We Breathe | 26Jun06

“Fundamentally, we don’t think carbon dioxide is a pollutant, and so we don’t think these attempts (to require reductions) are a good idea,” says John Felmy (of the American Petroleum Institute, just in case you thought he was an impartial observer).

The Supreme Court agreed today to consider whether or not we should regulate carbon dioxide levels through mandatory programs (rather than the current voluntary programs championed by the EPA). The argument here is that carbon dioxide is a pollutant due to its effect on global warming, and therefore emissions should be regulated by organizations like the EPA, along with other pollutants under the Clean Air Act. Groups like the Sierra Club believe that pollutant emissions must be regulated under the Clean Air Act–the EPA maintains that carbon dioxide isn’t a pollutant, and that even if it was they would have discretion over whether or not it should be regulated. Indeed, in 2003 an EPA lawyer claimed that the agency “lacked authority” to stipulate regulations on carbon dioxide emissions. A federal appeals court returned a divided ruling on the issue which has been referred to the Supremes for ultimate disposition.

Carbon dioxide is released any time fossil fuels are burned, making it the leading contender in the destroying the environment race, because as it enters the Earth’s atmosphere it traps heat, thereby contributing to global warming. (I think readers are aware of my firm belief in the reality of global warming.) Other pollutants are contributing to the problem but regulating the leader of the pack could make a big difference, scientists argue, one well worth the potential cost and difficulty.

Currently, the EPA says that voluntary programs are working (and saving money). I suspect that implementing hardline restrictions on carbon dioxide emissions, in addition to being a headache, would cost a lot of people a lot of money. Power providers, automotive companies, and manufacturers all have a lot to lose in this battle–of course, so does our entire society if we destroy the planet, but America tends to think in the short rather than long term. A number of states are concerned about the outcome of the ruling as well, because it would affect proposed laws ranging from Maine to California. California already has some of the toughest emissions standards in the nation, and they may be under threat depending upon how the Court rules. This is esepcially troubling when you realize the Bay Area has had three “Spare the Air” days in the last week.

The EPA ought to be our first line of defense against global warming and other environmental issues. It is, after all, the environmental protection agency, and it would be immensely useful for them to actually protect the enviroment. Yet, the Bush administration has created a weaked and feeble EPA, one afraid to rule on issues which will affect us for generations. Scared of its own shadow, the EPA is making choices that all of us may come to regret later.

Is carbon dioxide a pollutant? I argue that yes it is. Although it is a natural byproduct of some processes, it is not natural in these concentrations, and is in turn adding to the particulate loads in the air we inhale, as well as floating around in the atmosphere making all kinds of trouble.

Bringing suits like this one to court is a good way to force the issue, to demand that the EPA follow its own mandate of environmental protection and stewardship. Yes, protecting the environment costs money in the short term, potentially a lot of money. But don’t we all deserve to breathe clean air? Shouldn’t future generations be able to do the same, instead of being force to colonize and destroy other planets? Hey, I’m all for space exploration and housing on the moon, but I would like it to be from choice and the thrill of adventure, rather than a last gasp for life.

[pollution]

Search in review | 25Jun06

I haven’t done this in awhile, so I thought today was a good day to highlight some of the more entertaining search terms that bring people here. Some of them appear to be pressing questions which need answering. Others just don’t make sense.

“giving cat a bath” presumably lands readers here and also reminds me that Loki needs a bath.

I’m also a fan of “how to behave like a polite.” A polite what?

“victorian pelvic exams” is rather good. I was actually just reading an article about Victorian doctors and how they conducted exams (in case you were wondering, which you apparently are, they were expected to conduct the examination within the voluminous folds of a skirt, which must have made things rather challenging).

“massage therapists, do they see the genitals.” No.

“water holes navarro river.” Like I’m going to tell you where those are.

“pineapple lumps,” of course, lands the reader on part four of the candy report, featuring exciting New Zealand confections like pineapple lumps.

“asparagus spoiled.” I have a pretty high tolerance for spoiled food, but I imagine asparagus is irrevocably spoiled when it’s molding or slimy. Or it’s gone the other way and has turned wrinkled and wooden. Either way, it can probably still make your pee smell funny.

“sweet potato gnocci recipe.” I’m shocked to see that I am apparently the number one return on Google for this, which must mean it’s a topic without that much coverage. This sort of surprises me, actually, because sweet potatoes are rather trendy right now. Incidentally, singular potato, plural potatoes. Just so we’re clear on that. (Oh, and here’s the recipe. It’s really good with a cream sauce. I’m just saying.)

“piaci pizza.” Don’t go here.

“poultry pluckers.” Did you know that after you cut a bird’s head off, it really does run around the farmyard scaring the shit out of all the other animals? Pretty neat, eh.

There were a few other things which I prefer not to contemplate. The internet is an amazing place, I tell you. Amazing. Google captures most of the market share here (72%), followed by MSN. Usually it’s Google alone with one random Lycos search or something like that thrown in. Ah, Google.

I’ve also got a lot of Middle Eastern readers right now, which is sort of neat. Especially considering that some Middle Eastern companies have national firewalls and I sort of assumed I’d be banned, since I talk about all sorts of inappropriate things. This is what happens when you let a gal out of purdah.

Never | 24Jun06

Defense Tech had an article up today about the symbolic sabotage of a nuclear silo by a group of clowns, probably a ploughshares action. Now, granted, Defense Tech isn’t actually a liberal bastion of military news, so I shouldn’t have expected accolades in the comments section. Perhaps it was predictable that the first comment brought up the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, claiming that they “saved lives.”

214,000 people died within four months of the bombings. Thousands of Hibakusha (”explosion affected people”) died in the years to follow–every August, Japan publishes new figures. Last year, the toll came to 379,776 people who have died directly as a result of the bombs. Most of these people were civilians, living in a city left more or less alone throughout the war. (Some historians have suggested that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were deliberately left intact to measure the full power of the bombs, something which assumes that the use of nuclear weapons was a fait accompli.)

Another commenter claimed that firebombing in Japan took more lives–it is estimated that approximately 100,000 people had died from the firebombings, a far cry from the toll the bombs wrought.

405,399 American soldiers died in the Second World War. More probably would have died had we not bombed Japan: this is true, and it is a fact that I am not going to attempt to dispute. This would also have been a great tragedy, as all war deaths are. But I’m still not sure it justified the use of the bomb on the Japanese population as a tool to awe and impress. (Shock and awe?)

Some have argued that dropping the bombs was an act of state terrorism. One can see the grounds for this–the bombs were deliberately used on largely civilian targets for the express purpose of instilling fear and bringing about a desired political end. Leo Szilard, who played a role in the Manhattan Project, wrote that “if the Germans had dropped atomic bombs on cities instead of us, we would have defined the dropping of atomic bombs on cities as a war crime and we would have sentenced the Germans who were guilty of this crime to death at Nuremburg and hanged them.”

There is also some historical evidence to suggest that Japan was on the verge of surrendering and that the bomb was not necessary. Douglas Macarthur, who was the highest ranking officer in the Pacific theatre, said that there was no military justification for the bombing, and considering that he was the man who would have led a ground invasion, that’s a powerful statement. A large number of other military officials agreed and spoke out against the use of the bomb, before and after 6 August 1945.

Numerous organizations and historians have weighed in on the issue, including the District Court of Tokyo, which ruled that the use of the bombs was illegal by international law, “violat[ing] the most basic legal principles governing the conduct of war.” Christian and particularly Catholic groups have also spoken out on the use of the bomb, including the Federal Council of Churches in 1946, which said: “As American Christians, we are deeply penitent for the irresponsible use already made of the atomic bomb. We are agreed that, whatever be one’s judgment of the war in principle, the surprise bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are morally indefensible.”

I would hope that all of us can agree the dropping of the bombs on Japan was a great tragedy which resulted in shocking destruction and loss of life–and mostly for an experimental reason, because no one fully understood what the bomb and subsequent radiation would do. Over one hundred thousand people, more than the population of my entire county, died in the bombings. I find it difficult to comprehend people arguing in all seriousness that the use of the bomb was justified when I have seen images from the bombing, read writings by military authorities arguing against its use, and read first hand accounts in books like Hiroshima.

I think that the important point most of these commenters appeared to miss was that the symbolic sabotage against the nuclear silo was not intended to be a statement about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the only historic uses of the bomb in war. It was a statement about nuclear weapons in general, about the dangers of nuclear proliferation and the need to examine nuclear culture, especially since the bombs we have now are so much more powerful than those dropped on Japan. Fat Man and Little Boy were essentially prototypes–the damage we could deal now with a nuclear weapon would be formidable.

It’s sad to see Hiroshima and Nagasaki dragged into discussions about nuclear weapons, when we should be able to appraise the need for these kinds of weapons objectively, looking beyond the tragedy of 1945 and at the world today. Abolishing the bomb is not an option anymore–it has fallen into too many hands. But surely we don’t need over 5,000 nuclear warheads at this point?

[atom bomb]

My that’s warm | 23Jun06

The National Academy of Science has some news for us–the Earth is hot. Warmer, in fact, than it has been in four hundred years, and possibly in the last thousand.

Granted, weather does run in cycles, which are not fully understood. By studying ice cores and other indicators, we can get an idea of historical weather changes. But the weather is weird, and our knowledge as yet imperfect. Paleoclimatology is neat stuff. As the body of information we have amassed gets bigger, it can only increase our ability to make accurate statements. Or at least that’s the hope.

What that National Academy is willing to say for sure is that the last few decades have been extremely, dangerously hot. Graphs of the mean temperature show a sharp spike beginning around 1900–the age of industry. Temperature records are being broken every year, and in addition to threatening our quality of life, it also threatens the planet.

I’d really like to see An Inconvenient Truth, but somehow I doubt it will make it up here. As other commenters have written, it’s not as though anything in the movie is new (at least, it shouldn’t be unless you’ve had your head in the sand), but it’s a powerful thing to see all this information collected in one location. And an important thing.

There’s controversy over global warming, largely being fomented by those who have a vested interest in there being dispute over it. The argument seems to be that taking action and implementing protections now would devastate the economy and our way of life. Of course, global sea level rise could also devastate our economy and way of life, given the concentration of industry and culture on the coastlines.

I found it interesting that the day after this release, the Bay Area declared the second Spare the Air Day in a row, thanks to dangerously high smog levels (exceeding federal standards, in fact). Part of the reason for the heavy smog has been the record breaking temperatures–which may in fact be part of the cyclical nature of the earth, but may also be something more sinister.

I remember the moment I first realized in my gut that we were breaking the planet vividly. I was sitting in a psychology class and the instructor was talking about something or other, and somehow the context of global warming and the dispute over it came up. This being a hippie college, everyone believed the phenomenon to be the truth and was questioning why anyone would think otherwise. I looked outside the window and it was a lightbulb moment for me, the Pacific glittering in the near distance. Oh my god, I thought, we are totally fucking up the planet and there’s nothing I can do about it.

If we are to accept the idea that global warming is a reality, and I do, we need to accept the fact that we really ought to be doing something about it. We are already witnessing the effects–we can’t put it off to the next generation anymore. Yet, as Gore’s film points out, it is an awfully inconvenient truth. Because we as a society are going to have to make radical lifestyle changes and sacrifices in order to make any reasonable attempt at halting the progress of global warming.

We are living in the future. We were supposed to have flying cars and a colony on the moon by now. Instead we are an evergrowing species writhing in our own filth, unwilling to pull ourselves out. We need to completely retool the American way of life, which will not be easy.

We need to return to an era of urban density, where the population is concentrated in areas with a small ecological footprint, surrounded by open space (some of which, yes, should be used for farming, but it should also be used for natural forests and habitat). We need to stop building monstrous trophy houses in formerly pristine areas, we need to stop buying second homes, we need to return to a modest way of living where every inch of your house is made to count, to serve some fuction. You can build green and beautiful–I’ve seen it. I’ve already made a step in this direction personally, by choosing to live in town and locate work and shopping within walking distance of my home. I am constantly seeking ways to reduce my personal footprint, something remarkably easy to do when you are poor. I got rid of my car. I reuse grocery bags. I try not to be too much of a self righteous hippie.

We also need to implement and enforce stricter ecological protections. We cannot keep dumping stuff in the ocean, which is a giant purification system for the Earth–something around 85% of the world’s oxygen comes from the phytoplankton in the ocean. We cannot keep burying things in the Earth–we need to reduce, reuse, recycle. Packaging should be severely cut down, and biodegradeable, made from renewable resources. We should be reusing containers, making them from sturdier materials that stand up to repeated uses. It’s time to eliminate the miles of cheap plastic crap in the world. Use cloth diapers. Buy silly canvas tote bags for your groceries. Encourage your children to play in clay and wood, outdoors, instead of petrochemical products indoors. Read a book printed on recycled paper with soy based ink. We cannot keep emitting toxins into the atmosphere–we need to develop clean burning fuels, we need to force factories to comply with environmental policies. And these changes can’t just be made in the United States–they need to be made globally, as well, and it’s important that we have a body of international law governing these issues, because everything we do affects the whole world.

I see people driving everywhere alone in giant cars while the sidewalks are empty. I see people buying overprocessed heavily packaged products. I see people who are unwilling to make changes in the own lives for the better good of society, and I think that’s a great tragedy. I see people around me who understand on an intellectual level that what is happening is not good, but they haven’t had the leap of understanding that I did. Yet.

Perhaps global warming is all one giant myth, and the earth would be doing this anyway even if we weren’t here. Maybe the earth is like a giant clock and it’s just turning back to zero. But I think this is not the case. I think that our willfully destructive way of life is going to bring us to our knees. Perhaps not tomorrow, but soon.

[global warming]

Euphemism | 22Jun06

A friend of mine may or may not have lost his legs to an IED in an undisclosed location in the last calendar year. I was thinking about him today while I was walking down the street tonight, in the direction of the sunset. Given the advances we have made in prosthetics, he will probably be able to walk, after a fashion, some day. Which is a pretty neat thing. Maybe some time soon we will walk down the street towards the sunset together.

I think it’s odd, and disturbing, that we use euphemisms for things like this. It’s not like he woke up one morning and said “holy shit, where are my legs,” and then went around town putting up posters: “LOST: two legs, tanned, medium build, please call if found.” I didn’t send him a card that said “sorry about the legs dude, I hope they turn up soon.” No. One day his legs were there, hanging out, lending a foot so to speak, and then the next they were gone, tossed in a biohazard bin and incinerated because they were unsalvageable. They are not “lost,” because lost implies some possibility of return.

I think that perhaps our way of processing pain and trauma is to abstract it. People don’t die, they pass on. People don’t commit suicide, they take their lives–take them where, exactly? Will they bring them back when they’re done? Irreparable changes in our lives, things we cannot come back from, are “losses.” Acknowledging the fact of what has happened, for me, is the first step in coming to terms with it. Maybe I’m different. Maybe the rest of the world prefers to think of a world where lost loved ones hang out, like a giant waiting room, hoping someone finds them again. Maybe all the body parts are there too, hanging out in the corner. “Are you my hip socket?,” the femur says. I wonder if my pair of lucky lime green paisley underwear is there too.

This war going on here, this is a pretty fucked thing, and I think we are getting sort of inured to it. I open the Chronicle every day and skim over “six Marines killed by suicide bomber,” or “bodies of two Air Force pilots found,” or “car bomb explodes, injuring four soldiers.” I go straight for the hard hitting news, like: “Puppy found in dumpster adopted,” and “teenagers graduate high school.” But the thing is that someone, somewhere, knows these people. And they might not even realize it. It’s not like your Chronicle is going to come with a tag: “ATTENTION! Someone you know died in Iraq yesterday! Turn to page six!”

A lot of men and women are coming back from the war broken, which is a tradition for all wars. Not just broken in the physical sense, although the amount of war casualties is rather shocking. (Part of the tragedy is that these injuries would have killed soldiers in the past, thus allowing us to ennoble them–now they return to the States in the dead of night for rehabilitation, hidden from view. ’cause no one likes a crip.) They used to call it shell shock, war neurosis, soldier’s heart, battle fatigue. Now they call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and they still shuffle it under the carpet. Whatever you call it, the mental strain put on the women and men fighting this war is immense and intense–and there’s little support on our end to help these people integrate into normal life. The VA doesn’t recognize a large number of PTSD cases, and so most of them go home and can’t figure out why normal life is so hard all of a sudden. When was the last time you saw an Iraq veteran rolling down the street? Where are these people? Why are they being hidden from us, why are they living half lives in another world? Why aren’t they up in our faces, saying “hey asshole, you paid for this with your tax dollars. That there is some wack shit, man!”

I suspect that daily denial makes it possible for me to wake up every morning thinking something other than what the fuck are we doing in Iraq? No, seriously. This is a complete waste of time and I’m totally pissed. I’m going to go write another angry letter to my congressman today. Instead I amble over to Headlands to buy the paper and I do the Sudoku, and my pressing thought for the morning is is this really a nine? What if it’s not a nine, and I do the whole puzzle like it is one, and it doesn’t solve because really it’s a four? But I can’t leave it blank, because I’m pretty sure it’s a nine. Why do I have this pressing need to do Sudoku in pen? But for some reason we as a society are able to compartmentalize what is going on, able to carry on a conversation about how the war is lame and then talk about what’s for dinner.

I imagine that’s rather more difficult for veterans experiencing combat stress. And unfortunately, they aren’t speaking out about it because they are too busy trying to wake up every day, to function, to go to the grocery store without breaking down. They are too busy learning to use prosthetics, being bullied into doing physically and emotionally traumatic physical therapy (disclaimer: physical therapy is awesome, and great, but it is also really hard, and yes people must be bullied into it sometimes, but it’s bullying with love). My friends who have come back haven’t come back in the sense of “here I am, well, that was exciting, hey let’s go to a movie.” Their physical bodies are here, some of them even whole, but their hearts and minds are somewhere else, reliving a hell I can’t really imagine.

We all tiptoe about and euphemize and everything is dandy, yes the world is fucked but hey we’ve got to weed the tomatoes anyway. I suppose it’s unreasonable to think we should go around the world being angry all the damn time, but sometimes I am walking down the street towards the sunset and I am struck by the ineffable sadness of it all. It’s like for an instant someone has pried the cover off and I am dumbfounded by the fact that I am walking down the street thinking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer when people I know are dying in a war my government is waging, and I have a holy shit moment and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. And there’s a cool afternoon breeze and a car drives by and I hear a dog barking and I think how can this be so normal.

And then in the midst of all this existential musing on life, the universe, and everything, some fucking asshole decided to wolf whistle at me, because apparently the image of my femininity frozen in thought on the sidewalk was just so damn appealing that he had to share. Hey boys, let me tell you something, being catcalled at is never flattering, empowering, or awesome. It’s rude, irritating, and frustrating. In fact, it only cements my growing opinion that I should never go outside because it seems like whenever I do I am either stricken with sadness or rage, sometimes at the same time.

I turned to him and said “hey, my friend just lost his legs, have you seen them?”

No, I didn’t. I flipped him off and strode briskly down the sidewalk filled with righteous rage while strains of what the fuck, bitch echoed behind me.

[war]