Clouded Thinking on Geo-Engineering

Have you heard that the president's new Science Adviser is talking about shooting pollution into the upper atmosphere as a sort of “geo-engineering” to counter global warming?

What kind of alchemy is this?

John Holdren says one of the ideas being considered, shooting pollution particles into the upper atmosphere to reflect the sun's rays, would be a last resort as scientists look at several "tipping points" involving global warming he and his colleagues believe could be fast approaching.

These guys believe that once such milestones are reached, such as complete loss of summer sea ice in the Arctic, for example, the chances of "really intolerable consequences" are increased.

Here we go--the fear-mongering is revving-up so that Your Government can swoop-in to Save You.

I don’t think these people can have it both ways: First we’re being told we’re going to start having to pay for the carbon we spew into the atmosphere because that’s causing global warming…and now these eggheads are talking about spewing pollutants up there to reflect the sun’s rays?

Apparently, Mr. Holdren is not the only one who might be a half-bubble off-kilter: The National Academy of Science is making climate tinkering the subject of its first workshop in its new multidiscipline climate challenges program.

Climate Tinkering: Is that one of those new jobs our kids are preparing for that doesn’t yet exist, but will, in the future? Can't you just imagine the small talk at dinner parties of the future:

"My kid’s a doctor." Knowing nods.
"My kid’s a lawyer." Knowing smirks.
"My kid’s a Climate Tinkerer." Oooohhh.

The British Parliament has also discussed the idea of tweaking the environment, and the American Meteorological Society is crafting a policy statement that says "it is prudent to consider geoengineering's potential, to understand its limits and to avoid rash deployment."

Here’a policy statement for you knuckleheads to consider: “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.”

One Nobel laureate has suggested "creating an artificial volcano to inject particulates into the air, which could have grave side effects, and would not completely solve all the problems from soaring greenhouse gas emissions." (Isn’t that the scenario geologists use to explain how dinosaurs came to be extinct—some ancient Krakatoa blew its stack, enveloped the earth in a cloud of ash, and T-Rex froze to death.)

Another geoengineering option that has been mentioned: Using artificial trees to suck carbon dioxide out of the air and store it.

If these Mensa’s are really serious about addressing global warming, they need to go to the source: Mount up an expedition to explore the sun…just be sure you go at night.

Country Music and Starched Jeans

The American Country Music Awards last night re-enforced the theorem that those real, reality TV shows--like American Idol, for example--are genuinely identifying and producing new talent.

Want proof?
Last night’s performance by Carrie Underwood: Inspired.
She’s an A-I alum…and now, ACM Entertainer of the Year.

Impressive.

One thing I don’t understand about musicians—Why do guitarists stand like they’re on the foredeck of a ship in the middle of a typhoon? What is this wide-stance, braced-against-the-next-wave position saying?

Does playing guitar riffs cause extreme losses of equilibrium, or are these guys just too ripped to stand when they perform?
I don’t get this.

The guitarists backing Taylor Swift in last night’s ACM broadcast looked like they might have been extras in a surfer-movie at one time.
That, or the starch in their jeans was killing them.

That’s another thing I don’t understand—what’s with the starched jeans, and the crease down the back of the leg? That’s gotta hurt when you sit down.

Maybe that’s why those guys sing too high—too much starch in their jeans…

Telephone Terrorists: White Guys on A Mission

I am convinced that the next terrorist threat on the United States will most likely come from white guys seeking the last names of the people in charge at their places of business.

Most likely those fanatical white guy jihadists will strike only after knowing the exact time at which someone might be reached by phone.

That’s the only rational explanation I can come up with for the rash of insane responses to simple questions like, “who is your manager,” and “when would be a good time to call him back?”

I honestly don’t understand how some operations stay in business, because they seem to intentionally make it difficult to be reached. I called a major fast-food operation today and was shunted around no less than five times in the same call before an intelligent, enterprising receptionist in a regional outpost office recognized the frustration in my voice, and offered to call me back with the information I needed.

All I wanted was a chance to speak to a human being for two minutes—ironically, about an idea to increase their awareness, generate some new sales, and make them a little money. You’d think I wanted the plans to a nuclear missile, they way I was treated.

If you are in charge of the marketing of your company—you’re the decision-maker that savvy, sharp, idea-smiths need to be talking to—don’t you think it might be a good plan for everyone in your communication chain to know who you are and where you can be reached…like your direct extension, perhaps?

This same, major corporation did not know the whereabouts of one of its key marketing managers. Literally, they didn’t know the phone number or the office in which the person worked.
Unbelievable.

I asked for the name of a manager at a small business here in town…and they wouldn’t give out his last name. After spending ten minutes in intelligent conversation, during which time I revealed MY last name and phone number, I suddenly was treated like an enemy combatant when I asked for the last name of the store manager.
Sorree.

One saucy order taker at a fast-food joint refused to let me know when her manager would be back in, because she wasn’t allowed to give out schedule information. I just wanted to know when would be a convenient time to call back. She told me I could try back tomorrow, if I wanted.
I decided I didn’t.
And I won’t.

You may not want to hear what I’m selling, but that street runs both directions, brother--and after taking sass and lip from minimum-wage jerks with more attitude than brains, I may decide I don’t want you to have what I’m selling.