Sustainable Options---Revolution Watch

While I really have little faith in Amurikn's ability to scale down to a sustainable living style, I occasionally run into concepts, or creations that seem to have value. For instance, the idea of not being able to go to a lake and take out my boat for an evening of fishing, or just paddling is discomforting. When I am told that the use of gasoline may one day be restricted due to cost or shortages, I find my casting arm twitching in frustration and almost anger. I mean, do they think that I will have to, like, walk or peddle my bike with the float tube in my cart? (which I did a few years ago)

Walking is becoming tiresome and not really possible because the doctors told me my ankles were "worn" out from too much "play" as a youth. Riding the bike is now frightening, at least until I get a  tricycle of some expense.  I was scolded by some friends, after being clocked at 38 miles per hour last year, that this was not wise and bordered on stupidity----imagine that?. That was an ah-ha moment in view of the fact that a good friend hit the Schwan's truck last year and broke his neck. While I know the coppers wanted to ticket him, the cyclist, for speeding, it was still a wake up call. It looks like the bike is now out as I am scared and close to 72.

Then it happened. A photo arrived from a friend cleanly demonstrating that there was an option. All I needed was a horse and buggy and  tailor. With this rig I would be back in the game in no time. I have a small shed in the back that may have, at one time, been a barn for a horse, so all I would need is a nice nag and a broken down buggy, Yes, I would have to have some hay but there is grass all over the place and no doubt I could use the animal to mow local lawns ---for a small fee. Plus, there would be an immediate supply of garden fertilizer.

No sooner had I realized the possibilities here when my brother Jeff introduced me to an electric lawn mower, a rider at that, made in the seventies that could mow the lawn as well, push snow and plow the garden. I can charge the batteries with the photo voltaic's free electricity and then live like a king. At first I was left in a dichotomy because the horse would also do these things but in addition take me and my boat to the lake. It was then I realized that brother Jeff sure as hell could probably gear up the mower to pull the boat. Wow, two options for a sustainability life style. I am more optimistic everyday. No fertilizer though.

The Fire Cracker Parade and America.

(This was my Spirit column for July---plugged it in here)

The Firecracker Parade is one of those happenings that every community needs, not that it is grandiose or elaborate because participants are only allowed 24 hours to prepare, are discouraged from political statements, and encouraged to be creative. Terry Ludeman has for 34 years marshaled the participants up the three-quarter mile course to waiting throngs gathered under the majestic maples at the New Hope Church. The crowd is festive, closely packed, always fraught with anticipation, above average and attractive.

While it is not a picnic, nor a party, friends do gather to engage in country conversation and marvel at both the charming, entertaining and outright humorous absurdity of some parade entrants. There is not much in the line of noise making as New Hope does not seem to have a fire department, nor police or much of anything capable of really turning up the decibels. The pastoral throb of a fine old two-cylinder John Deere almost, at least to me, sounds like music, and if it is not music, it is the sound of  past farming practices and the hard toil of working the land.

Always appreciated, there were the mounted participants whose mighty steeds polluted not one iota of countryside, even if they did leave small deposits. Yes, there were scoopers in tow and I can only imagine the roadside plants reaching out for some warm homegrown fertilizer. Oh how the horses pranced and the riders grinned.

This year a vintage WWII jeep with its purring, probably Willy’s engine, and the dents of years of use, but standing tall for American security, properly carried the colors but not with a lot of fanfare. It was just a meaningful reminder that there have always been citizens willing to step up for the Mother Country.

A surprise outer space visitor on a bike stopped in front of the attentive judges to explain the human condition. He, I believe it was a he, had been noticing that we, meaning many Americans, were in the habit of blaming others for our problems and he had found the perfect tool to solve that issue as he took out a mirror and demonstrated its use. It was prophetically unique, he thought, because it implied we needed to look at ourselves. He spoke of love, peace and accountability---a new outer space twist.

The tuba band, with horns gleaming in the afternoon sun, provided the hits of the past, and it was not just marches but rock and roll, The word resplendent comes to mind as the tossed candy filled the street and scampering urchins scurried about securing their share. In the rear of the parade, Helen, the Milfoil lady, all festooned in undesirable aquatic weeds, and looking much like a fish monger, wheel-barrowed past the crowd advocating the removal of the aquatic weed that is now an invasive force.

With great pride, and an ego blown up like a toad under a streetlight, our group garnered the first place magic-marker-decorated paper plate. What can only be described as classic performance art, this group of individuals with no sense of pride or decorum, attached a skit to each and every letter of the words New Hope.  N stood for Norwegian, of course. The crowd was treated to an Ollie and Lena story from an appropriately dressed Viking. It seems this young man, who in third grade, was awarded a prize for having the largest feet. In asking his father, “was this because he was Norwegian?”. He was then told he had large feet because he was eighteen.

E stood for the noble Eagle. Out of almost nowhere, and in a single swoop, a rather ghastly eagle swooped in and consumed a stuffed duck ---great naturalistic theater. W stood for Wisconsin, the home of the brave and land of the confused as the two Miss Wisconsins bellowed On Wisconsin and called for a W. at the same time.  H, of course, had to stand for Holstein, and there casually leaning against a wagon was a superb, well uddered, bovine in casual repose. At the sound of an auto, she was back on all fours acting like a cow when car traffic went by, but like real cows, she returned to lounging after the vehicle was past.

O was for onions. This, a fine locally produced vegetable, was glorified by two beauties doing a dance commonly done while entertaining at a bar, I believe, called the Airport Lounge. They were synchronized in their swinging of great long onions. Some thought they were equivalent to synchronized water dancing. “Truly profound” was a description heard from one roadside observer---while lifting her eyes in amazement.

P was pick-pockets from Peru. Mimes, two of them, brushed by each other to demonstrate their devious skills. The expressive gentleman managed to latch on to a nice watch and some money, all the while thinking himself the victor, but the woman of the pair, while seeming distraught about the financial loss, held up a pair of boxer shorts. On close examination, the gentleman found himself shortless and embarrassed (pun). The final E was flipped over to make an M for music at which point the entire entourage went to dancing the polka to the lilting notes of a flute and fiddle.

So while I have an inflated ego, let us not forget that next year will be the thirty-fifth of the firecracker and while it is not appropriate to officially plan your float, it is time to put it on your calendar.







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The Frog and the Fly

It was time to take the grandkid fishing. He had been all over me to get on with it, quit reading, having tea and palavering about the economy. It was the usual nagging of a kid who has only one intention at that very moment. This particular child has focus and whether it is rock hounding, gathering pumpkins or fishing, he looks only in that direction and makes sure I am aware of it---particularly if it takes me getting off my butt to make it happen.

He had the entire outing all planned out, the site of action set, and his gear, lame as it is, ready for action. He knew of a pond in a park right in the middle of town where he had seen fish and had, on a few occasions, managed to land a couple of adequate pan fish. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem particularly intent on catching size but rather just wants action, be it a nondescript minnow or a gapped-mouth carp. It is just the journey, not the destination---apparently he had read Robert Louis Stevenson who said. “I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.”

Having developed that philosophy at a young age, is helpful to a grandparent, who in my age, has developed a certain amount of sloth. At the same time, it is my responsibility to introduce him to the greater pleasures of life and to facilitate the desires, which have developed, a result of my earlier encouragements. Simply put, I had to get off my posterior, put down the computer with it’s  never-ending sob stories of how lousy we as a species are treating the world, and take Jake to the pond.

In a fit of ambition and an exhaustion from being badgered by the kid with comments about my inability to catch fish, I tossed the angling swag in the car along with the chattering nine-year old and lit out for the water. From the back seat he, for reasons unknown, proclaimed he was one of the world’s best fishermen and wondered, aloud, if he was a professional. With eyes lifted in disbelief,  I was not able to imagine where he got this idea because I had told him numerous times I was the best fisherman in the universe. He fidgeted and carried on as we approached the rather stagnate, algae filled pond still confident he was about to set records with his prowess.

He bolted from the backseat and headed, Tom Sawyer-style, for the edge of the pond where he threw down his bait box, unraveled the tangled pole and began chucking the miserable looking lure into the depths. On my arrival, somewhat belated due to my noticeable inability to run, he pointed out the fish he could actually see in the water. Yup, there were some small fish there all right, not monsters, but fish. He threw a few more casts but didn’t attract any attention as his bait was, to some extent, bigger than the fish he was pursuing. While he was still confident of success, I noticed a shift in his patter in that he was now making note of the small crawdad-filled stream just to the north. He was beginning to conger up an option if fishing should not play out.

It was at that moment I decided to increase his angling possibilities and began drawing on my world’s reputation as grand master fisherman. It seems he had a rubber frog in his tackle box, one of those that floats, is weedless, and has enough weight for him to be able to really send it flying out in the small lake. The frog itself was not a suitable lure in that the pond probably didn’t have a single fish in it capable of devouring the plastic frog. This is where a little imagination had to come in. After showing him how to tie the fisherman’s knot, and laying out the strategy I was pursuing, we then attached a second line from the hook of the frog. The line being about twenty-four inches long and lighter in weight from the main line. We were being crafty and drawing on my fly fishing experience----I, of course, reminded the over-egoed kid about my skills not wanting him to think himself so superior when he was, in fact, in the presence of a fishing god.

I have to admit he was not very impressed with my bragging and did tell me I had an inflated eagle. At the end of the second line, I attached a fly, a wooly bugger if you will. We now had a real rig, one that would bring home the bacon. I even liked it because if there was a big bass in the pond, he might just have a chance, but in truth, we were after the pan fish.

On the first cast, he managed to hook an eight inch Green Sunfish and the afternoon was off to a great start. While a number of the bass-like sunfish tried to gobble up the frog, the wooly bugger carried the day and in the next hour he managed to haul in twenty flopping fish, which inflated his eagle but also made traveling for travels sake a reality.

Tesla Battery or Powerwall------Missionary's Position

Unfortunately, I spend too much time being entertained with various discussions on sustainability and all the hype that goes with it. But I also like messing with sustainable ideas and efforts offered by others. Then, of course, I obviously entertain myself by writing about all this crap. I don't think for catharsis, maybe intellectual interest, maybe because I care, not so much for myself as I am now older than dirt and none of this stuff will likely mean jack to me---other than I find it entertaining, but for my future connected family. Ya, ya, the plight of man is entertaining.

So along comes the new Tesla battery that one Mr. Musk thinks will change the world. Now I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer (I just learned I may be the leper with the most fingers) but any jackass can figure out this thing, this Power Wall, is nothing short of hype, and real good hype if you will,

 So I am sitting here thinking that just maybe I can get a kick-ass battery pack that will allow me to go off grid again but in pricing the contraption I learn a couple bits of alarming info. First off, the single battery which produces 10 KWHs cost a pleasant $3,500. I also learn the average home uses close to 25 KWHs a day (even though I use less than 10). So the average home would have to have 3 of these suckers to even cover electricity for one day. Now, it might cover me for a day but here in Wisconsin it is not that unusual to have 4-5 days sunless. Then what?

To top it off, I now have lead acid batteries that will cover me for a couple of days as long as we do not do the wash or vacuum---which we do not like doing anyway. These led acid babies only cost $800 and the fancy Tesla pack is over $10K. Clearly, even though they clam to be 10 KWH, we all know the efficiency of the unit is probably in the low 90s--throw in the inverter and it is even lower. In addition to the $10K cost, there is for most people a huge installation fee and of course for the average dude they have to have $30,000 worth of PVs to power up the $10,000 worth of batteries.

Then somewhere I read the production of these lithium batteries is more "green" than the lead puppies. Why hell, they both rip the living Jesus out of the landscape. It is modern technology and all of it is based on consumption of resources and fossil energy. Up a fat rats ass it is green. Is it better in the long run than natural gas---maybe, just maybe. One would have to take a real hard look at the math. You want to see something green make a candle out of hog fat and ashes.

When I heard this system, both the PVs and the battery, would power India I almost laid down on the ground and soiled myself. If it is  $40,000 to set it up in this country can one imagine how much it would cost in some remote village? Then they would have to deal with the complexity of it all, Parts? These techno-triumphalist drive me nuts. Truth is, it doesn't even work in this country. I suspect it is just another fun toy or hobby for a few rich people. Get the price down to $3,000 for 30KWH and I still might do it---interestingly.

Catching and Eating Local fish

 I like to think it is possible to be LOCAL in our food production. Many now call this relocalization  The implication of the project is to develop a local food source that is not hinging on bringing food long distances when in fact most foods can be grown, caught, or "found" locally. It is a noble cause it would seem in that we get rid of a dependency that may, at some point in out lives, not be workable. I mean, getting farm raised fish from China makes little sense no matter how one looks at it. Hell, the are fed human fecal mater as are the shrimp from the Mekong Delta. It is simply about distance and energy use---and quality.

Yes, if the fish are raised here they will probably cost more but we will at least be offering jobs and there will be some rules as to how they are raised. I still refuse to buy the ones raised here due to the use of chemicals and to the genetic manipulations that end up in the wild populations. Far as I am concerned it is damned hard to find a fish that is not in some way damaging to fish populations from over-fishing or is polluted from antibiotics or had it's DNA altered.

The only option is to search out lake-caught fish right here. The only problem seems to be they are not really easy to catch or there just are not many of them. I know some yahoos claim I am just a shitty fisherman but this is not true. I am a dedicated angler with considerable skill and an attractive demeanor. Not many fish are brought home, that is true. In some cases because I release them thinking there are not many and they need to be returned for future fisher types to enjoy. Here and there I bring some home as a way of having fish in our diets.

I see this as being sustainable but also realize that if every jackass who fished kept all the fish caught most of the lakes would be devoid of fish in short order. I now believe many fishermen return much of there catch and fish only for the relaxation and the pleasant outing in a wonderful setting.

Things turned a little different the other day. It seems we, Dennis and I , visited a particular flowage to find a sign that stated, with out hesitation, this body of water was being managed for Walleyes, and in noting this, stated the Black Bass were eating all the fry. As result the bass were fair game and could be kept in great number, no limit! While this appeared to be silly because Bass are a great deal more exciting to catch but thought to be less exciting to eat.

We hit the water with our new (used) fishing rig, and it ain't no canoe. I was forced by family members to move to something more stable as I have in the past few years had some inappropriate time in the water as a result of falling, colorfully, from the canoe. Seems they did not want to see a headline in the local paper stating, " Elderly man found floating in local pond." It turned out the hot tip we had received put us in touch with numerous Large Mouthed Bass. Out of the need to protect the Walleyes, and to fill my gullet, and be sustainable and relocalized we kept six  bass out of the forty or so we caught. While it is a secret, these are some of the finest fish we have consumed in a mighty long time.

I know the nice thirty year old boat is not real sustainable but it is already manufactured and will take no more energy but the motor will and does. It is a four stroke so there is less smog spewing form it. However, we are relocalized and those fat fish, like most of our food, now comes from Wisconsin.

Local Individual Tries to become Middle Class Using Solar Powered Wacker

Some years ago I received a weed wacker from my mother's estate. For many years I have been unable to find a use for it in that I had few weeds worth wacking and the noise it made was socially disturbing. While it was electric in propulsion, it still put out quit a din rather like a leaf blower or a Nazi Panzer division. It also tended to launch small particles much like an electron accelerator
. .

Basically, it was fucking ridiculous in that there really didn't seem any need to wack weeds, particularly if an occasional toad got whipped into a froth. We were living a lower middle class life style at the time and while it was hard getting around the old appliances in the front yard, the biggest problem was dealing with the guilt of having one more energy consuming appliance doing some senseless act for the pure pleasure of accommodating a comfortable middle class life style.

I was already some sort of wack job, so it sat idle. I even tried to sell it in a yard sale but no one was willing to lay down good folding money for the nice unit. $10 was just too steep. Somewhere along the line, we set up a photo-voltaic system which we use to power our home. We wanted to be  sustainable types and drop off using fossil fuels which are clearly killing our planet (even if Ted Cruz doesn't think so, or every other dip-shit conservative). We did manage to get our electric consumption down to less than 5 KWH per day compared to the national average of 25.

Well, yesterday I ran into the wacker while getting out the electric lawn mower and realized, like the mower, I could power it with electricity from the batteries thus converting my lawn care to complete solar power. Talk about sustainable. Most importantly, by trimming the lawn around the side walk I could begin to approach middle class, or at least maintain our lower middle class status.

It was necessary to gear up for the event, or was it armor up, due to the obnoxious viperous hissing the rig created and to prevent the loss of eyes from the high velocity stones flying about. I noticed the outfit did start one really great cat fight across the street as they panicked from the approaching Fokker D7 dive bomber. My closest neighbor pointed out this was the first time she had seen me clean my side walks and wondered what was going on. I told her I was trying to go middle class which brought a look of bewilderment---what about the old cars and the moonshine still? .

After 20 minutes of wacking off the vegetation---and some minor injuries, I took some time to cipher over my effort toward being Middle Class. I sincerely wanted to be sustainable in my pursuit because, after all, if my middle class position was not sustainable, what is the point?

As a deep green thinker, or is it Dark Mountaineer, there was a real need to get serious---being middle class is a lofty goal and deserves in depth thinking. Right off I hit walls, threw up red flags, did the Sweet Jesus jumping across the tundra on a rubber crutch expletive. Why hell, that Fokker probably took a barrel of oil to produce, not to mentioning the fabulous volumes of fossil fuels  to build the PV system. My God, it was no different than the electric car that took 30 barrels of oil to make and who knows how many more barrels to make the roads on which to drive the things. I just learned that it takes more oil to build an auto than it will burn in its life time. Boy, it is hard being sustainable and just as I was getting into it, this middle class thing may have to be reconsidered.

 I was thinking it might be best just to burn off my yard a couple times a year---that has a nice paleo feel to it. A goat might be sustainable. So much for being a wack job.

Migration and Global Climate Change

In the last couple of years we have been hearing more and more about the issues involved in excessive human migrations related to climate change. This is nothing new as all the way back in 1973 The Limits to Growth book brought the issue to front as well as mentioning other issue that would lead to huge human flows as the world resource were depleted. It is simply not new.

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-32190648

Today, I noticed this article in the BBC once again reporting on the impending major issue of the human floods coming out of the Middle East and North Africa. This movement of people by lame-ass  boats has been going on for years and few in the world really are aware of this issues, and deaths involved of these folks trying to get away form a rapidly deteriorating situation. More and more it is becoming apparent that the major issues are really about resources, meaning water, food, shelter and safety---much of it due to global climate change.

Last year I ran into two talks from military persons about this issue related to national security. One was an Admiral Herring and the other was Jeromy Jackson  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zMN3dTvrwY&list=PLdAr4XNihP-hXvDmKrFgZ6XADPKH0nR2G   talking to the Navel War College, not exactly bastion of liberalness, but just concerned thinking people. Clearly, if conditions continue to deteriorate, not just in the middle east but in this country and continent, people will begin to move, maybe into areas they are not really welcome.
http://thetyee.ca/Opinion/2014/12/08/Mass-Migrations-of-History/?utm_source=mondayheadlines&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=081214

This is all reminding me of a very controversial book that came out in the sixties call The Camp of the Saints where France was being over-whelmed with the flood of refugees out of the ME and NA. There were millions coming across the Mediterranean. What was France to do? I couldn't finish the book. But here we are with shades of this event.  I have heard the big wall we are building on the Mexico/US border is not for what was going on now and in the past, but what is anticipated if Mexico should be come a failed state---which it well could become if they go into deep drought and their revenues from the depleting oil decline--which it is. . Half of Mexico is now in the same drought as California. Go figure! 37 million in California and no water? Is there going to be wide spread migrations?