Friday, September 30, 2005

Endangered species

Who needs 'em? When it comes to Walmart versus the spotted owl, why not choose the one where the price is right? Or maybe, with the new bill the house just passed, you can make money off the damn owl. I own its rotting old grown habitat. Perhaps the government can buy my land. I think I'll set the asking price at $50,000/acre. The govt. can afford it. Especially with the way we're making the poor pay more. And the more they pay, the more poor we create. Heck, maybe I can charge $100,000 because the govt helps those who help themselves.

Following the intelligent design model, the intelligent designer (whose name shall remain upspoken) spotted owls are less complex a model, therefore, worth less.

The only value is that which useful to humans. And making money for those humans. I suppose having the whole planet covered in Ivory homes will be profitable.

I wonder how to quantify the value of wilderness and diversity of species--perhaps I should say to those who complain that wilderness is only for backpackers and hikers that we won't go there either. That they're for no one. That the idea of the place is all humans get. And that is a lot. Being able to imagine a place separate from humans is what helps us to understand what it means to be human.

Perhaps only by hanging a price-tag on wilderness and habitat is the only way to decide what it's worth. So how much for the spotted owl? How much for the Amazon rainforest. Bill Gates has a lot of money. Can he buy it? And then put a big electric fence around it to keep the poachers and land-clearers and Republicans away. Until they can pay up.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Nonstop work or no work?

I can't tell if I'm never working or always working. I woke up at 1:15, 4:59 and 8:16 to feed Zoe. Up for good at 8:45. Made coffee, fed the cats, fed the dog, made 4 slices of the Avenues' cranberry pecan bread. Read the paper. Fed Zo at 9:30. Found Cleo's collar and leash, put Zoe in her kangaroo carrier and walked ourselves to the park. Came home, watered outside plants. Came in, cleaned up wineglasses from last night, read more newspaper. 11:17 Tried to convince Zoe she wanted to be naked in her crib. 11:35 gave up, gave her an apricot oil massage, fed her until 12:05. Recycled newspaper. Started to think about lunch. Got out a chicken breast and went outside to start grill. Grill wouldn't start. Came in to get lighter. Zoe fussy. Took Zoe and lighter outside and stood in front of grill, gas on. Thought better of lighting it and put Zoe on the grass next to Cleo (good babysitter, Cleo). Lit grill, came in. Put Zoe in swing. Grated parmasan. Made a fake Caesar Salad dress (lemon juice, mayo, worstchestershire, parmasan, garlic clove). Grilled chicken. Tore up lettuce. Looked at blogs while chicken cooked. Blogged a short depressing blog about New Orleans. (Blogs--like newspapers, but worse. I've read the entire twice). Checked email (not much. One from Burger. It's Sunday of a labor day weekend). Got chicken off grill. Let it rest. Read some more blog. Cut up chicken and tossed salad. Ate while reading blogs. Found Cleo. Gave her a bit of chicken. Turned off swin for Zoe. Found bar of chocolate. Ate some of it. Blogged this.
I wanted to do today:
Send out manuscripts.
Writer more on the wolf piece.
Finish new QW website.

Must put down chocolate to even begin to do work. Now I feel like taking a nap.

Perhaps it's the blogs/newspapers that seem like I'm doing something (I like to call it research in my day planner) when I'm not. Perhaps I should limit the research to an hour a day. Of course, I'd probably just fill that time with more research, like watching the Discovery Channel or reading the New Yorker.

Now I've eaten most of the chocolate and thought about how I must have missed Lynn and Sylvia's half marathon. Guilt for the chocolate and for not cheering on my friends. Go friends I say from here as I look to Zoe to see if she's hungry. Someone has to get the calories from the chocolate and it had better not be me. See. Even eating chocolate can be considered work. I'm metabolizing for my baby!

OK. Really. Now I have to breastfeed and type if I'm going to get a stitch of work done today. I need one more arm. Or perhaps a well designed sling......

End of the world

I keep thinking about the dogs and cats left in the houses. And global warming. And the way that now that catastrophe has struck, everyone's shelling out the cash but when New Orleans asked last year for 2.7 billion dollars to reinforce and modernize the levee system, it was deemed too expensive. Now people are wading through a soggy cemetery trying to get some place dry. 10.5 billion dollars later, the government comes to the rescue--throwing MRE's and bottled water to the masses. At some point, this wait till it's broken approach will fail even more ridiculously. Part of me looks forward to seeing how bad it gets. No oil. No heat. No trucks to bring groceries. No water where it's needed most. Too much where it's not needed at all.
Perhaps I can go into business, try to entrepreneur my way into watching Utah turn temperate forest or plush agricultural center or buying property in Western Nevada as I wait for the waters to rise.
It doesn't look good for you if you're poor. But it doesn't look all too rosy for the rich either. Think of all the walking they'll have to do. Think of the Hummer becoming the primary residence. Sure, we'll all be starving too, but at least natural (or the oxymoronic manmade nature) disasters democratize us all.