Beyond drilling

A camel is a horse designed by a committee, as the old saying goes. The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, signed into law yesterday in Denver by President Obama, is a camel of legislative drafting, the result of balancing various competing interests in an attempt to achieve the President's goals in a form that could be forced through Congress.

But for all its resulting weaknesses and lack of focus, the bill should be praised for its bold tackling of the nation's future energy needs. The bill includes funding of $40.7 billion on energy conservation measures and development of alternative forms of energy, and another $16.3 billion for development of energy-saving rail and rapid transit infrastructure.

These appropriations not only will attack the nation's economic crisis, but will also take a first step in addressing a energy crisis looming on the near horizon. This month's edition of National Geographic is devoted to the world's energy problems. Present forecasts suggest that between now and the end of the century, world production of conventional petroleum will shrink from about 80 million barrels per day to approximately 45 million. In the same period, demand will explode from 80 million to 125 million barrels per day.

This ever increasing gap between supply and demand, if not remedied, not only will lead to a decreased standard of living for Americans, but also to skyrocketing pollution and to worldwide turmoil and explosive hatred of the developed nations. The tacit attitude expressed at present by the United States and other wealthy powers -- that Third World nations must curtail their own development because our own achievement of properity has already increased CO₂ levels to the crisis point -- while true, does not sit well with the workers of China and India at the very moment when they can afford their first automobile.

President Obama pointedly selected the pioneering CEO of a local solar energy company to introduce him to the audience in Denver. The President observed that we have a history in this country of ignoring problems until they become crises. He urges us to tackle the energy problem before it reaches that point. We have almost reached that point already, and the urgency is fully justified.

Remember what the dormouse said

Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders.
--Nietzsche

Your blind date's eyes narrow when she first meets you and looks you over. After chatting for five minutes, glancing several times at her watch, she yawns and says, "Sorry, this isn't going to work," and leaves you sitting at the table, waiting for your drinks to arrive. Yikes! Besides curling up in bed with the electric blanket turned up to "high" and hugging your childhood teddy bear -- how do you recover from that?

Maybe you should take a pill.

Reuters reports a Dutch medical study indicating that one kind of beta-blocker (a medication used to treat high blood pressure) actually helps to weaken "bad" memories. Patients who were afraid of spiders, because of a one-time scary encounter with the little arachnids, were "cured" when the beta-blocker wiped out (or significantly weakened) the memory. The pill seemed to interfere with the old memory once a fresh spider event recalled the memory to consciousness.

Once refined, the possibilities seem endless. For example, at awkward times I'm apt to recall:

1. The time in fourth grade I was invited to a party, and, not realizing it was a birthday party, brought no present. Pop a pill!

2. The time my dad took me to the YMCA for kid's swimming lessons. He told me that it was an old Y custom for all the boys to swim without suits. It wasn't, and no one else did. Pop a pill!

3. The time in college that I took my dad's car to the beach and got stuck in the sand at low tide. Yup, high tide's a memory I'd love to forget. Pop a pill!

4. How about when I stood in front of the class to give a presentation, and found my notes swimming meaninglessly before my eyes, and my mind going blank? Pop a pill!

Once the memory is erased, did the humiliation ever really happen? These pills don't just make you feel better, they change your past. No longer a guy with a nerdy childhood, you suddenly become a confident stud for whom the world has always thrown open its doors. You can now stride down the sidewalk, shoulders thrown back, staring down the lesser mortals who pass by. And we must be only one step away from an even better pill, one that creates positive memories -- perhaps a firm belief that all of your best fantasies actually did occur.

Meanwhile, I may just feign high blood pressure so as to get my hands on some of them there beta-blockers. Or maybe they're available on the street? They're probably better for you than an evening of booze, and, if they do nothing else, they'll keep your doctor happy next time he takes your blood pressure.

Barnyard survival

Once upon a time, there was a Little Blue Rooster who saw that his barnyard had run out of bread and that the farmer had become too tired and penniless, after years of "excessive exuberance," to provide his animals with any more. The Little Blue Rooster knew that all the animals were going to starve to death unless they got together, put aside their differences, and learned to make and bake their own bread, all by themselves. So he and his advisers found some wheat out in the fields and threshed it themselves.

When the wheat was threshed, the Little Blue Rooster said, "Who will help me take this wheat to the mill?"
"Not I," said every single Republican in the House.
"Not I," said 38 out of 41 Republicans in the Senate.
"Not I," said the Limbaugh Bird, and I'll kill any Republican who tries to help.
"We will," said the Little Blue Rooster's fellow Democrats.
"Then it's just us who will do it," said the Little Blue Rooster. And the Democrats did.

They carried the wheat to the mill and had it ground into flour. Then the Little Blue Rooster said, "Who will help me make this flour into bread?"
"Not I," said every single Republican in the House.
"Not I," said 38 out of 41 Republicans in the Senate.
"Not I," said the Limbaugh Bird, and I'll kill any Republican who tries to help.
"We will," said the Little Blue Rooster's fellow Democrats.
"Then it's just us who will do it," said the Little Blue Rooster. And the Democrats did.

They made big loaves of bread and baked the loaves until they were hot and brown and fluffy and wonderful to smell. Then the Little Blue Rooster said, "Who will help me eat this wonderful bread, and join me in taking all the credit for saving the barnyard?"
"Oh! We will," said all the House Republicans.
"And we will," said all the Senate Republicans
"Hrmph, I will;" said the Limbaugh Bird, puffing his feathers up so he looked extra fat and pompous, "actually, it was my idea to begin with."

"No, No!" said the Little Blue Rooster. "Me and my Democrats will also do that all by ourselves."

And they did.

Getting it over with

In this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.
--Benjamin Franklin

The Grim Reaper has to wait his turn, but today I paid my taxes.

Taxes aren't due until April 15, but I concluded, after some quick mental arithmetic, that this year, for a change, the IRS would owe me a tax refund. Nothing like the prospect of a little free money to focus my mind, blowing away my customary inclination to procrastinate. And so, I sat down last night at the dining room table -- tax forms, calculator, and pen at hand.

Alas, as the numbers were crunched, I soon discovered the extent of my illusions. Once again, I end up writing a check to the U. S. Treasury. But am I disheartened? Indeed not.

Among my many other peculiarities, I always get a kick out of filling out my annual tax forms. I actually look forward to it. I'd never pay someone like H&R Block to do it for me. It's a yearly report card, where I, rather than a teacher, write the report. A performance review without the annoying department manager. Even, perhaps, an examination of conscience -- what have I made of my life in the past year?

And when, as this year, the performance review isn't all that favorable, I at least have the consolation that I will pay less -- rather than receive less -- money. In today's economic climate, in fact, it's a privilege to owe any taxes at all. I recall how many people have been reduced to poverty, bankruptcy and foreclosure over the past year.

So I neatly fill out my forms, trying to present myself as a careful, trustworthy citizen, one who certainly doesn't deserve an audit. A guy worthy of Senate confirmation. I write my check, attach my W-2, make a copy for my records, and drop the envelope into the mailbox. All done for another year.

Let's hope that 2009 offers us all more income on which to pay taxes a year from now.

The party of "No!"

Isn't it fun, watching the Senate Republicans fiddle while the nation burns? Doesn't it bring your high school history books alive? Déjà vu -- circa 1931 -- all over again.

I'm no economist. But to me, one thing seems obvious. Businesses and average Joes alike are paralyzed with fear. They can't understand what's happened economically, and they suspect that no one in charge has a clue either. Strong action by the government -- any action -- would attack that fear. Whether the action, from an economist's perspective, actually provides a direct stimulus to the economy is less important -- at this moment -- than its immediate psychological effect in stimulating confidence.

An increase in confidence -- from any source -- will result in freeing up credit and increasing consumer spending, breaking the looming spiral into deflation and depression.

Many Republicans claim to agree. But they are so obsessed with government funding of employment to construct all kinds of projects -- mass transit is just one small but obvious example -- that they're ready to scuttle -- or delay indefinitely -- any stimulus bill at all rather than permit government money to flow in directions they dislike.

The Republican leadership interprets "bipartisanship" to mean that only funding that's agreeable idealogically to both parties should be approved. As frustrated Democrats have reminded them, the GOP did lose the election, and lost it decisively. One issue at stake in the election was whether the nation should stick with Republican "trickle down" economics. That doctrine is no longer on the table.

Bipartisanship, under present conditions, means listening with open minds to Republican complaints about specific projects, and compromising when possible to remove truly non-stimulative spending from the pending bill. It does not mean re-enacting failed Republican economics.

Republican senators should remember history. They are in danger of once again tarring themselves as the party of Hoover -- a party that, in a moment of crisis, says "no" to everything not permitted by their unimaginative idealogy.

Six more weeks

According to Marmota monax, Seattle will next get some nice weather on, oh, about March 16.

Yes, today is February 2, the Feast of the Purification, also known in Anglo-Saxon jurisdictions as Candlemas day (when the church blesses candles for use in the coming year). Here in the good old Protestant U. S. of A., Candlemas is much more commonly known as Groundhog Day, or, in recent years, Bill Murray Play-It-Again Day. Groundhogs, also called woodchucks, live in flatlands. Seattle residents are more familiar with their upland cousins, the hoary marmot (Marmota caligata) and the Olympic marmot (Marmota olympus). These dudes are cuter -- in my opinion, of course, "cute" being in the mind of the beholder -- and they whistle seductively at you as you hike through their mountain habitats

The Groundhog Day tradition supposedly began in Celtic times, when blue-faced Fighting proto-Irish allegedly used as their prognosticating mammal either the badger or a "sacred bear." Yeah, right. We have lots of bears around here, but no one would call them "sacred," unless gluttony has become a sacred virtue rather than a deadly sin. Our bears wouldn't give you the time of day, let alone a weather report. And badgers are dandy, nature's civil engineers, but like most engineers are too busy poring over drawings and specs to notice whether the sun is shining.

In any event, in 2009 -- in Seattle -- the outcome was never in doubt. I find the irony devastating: In a city where many children question the actual existence of what the rest of you call "The Sun," today broke clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky. Any obese rodents who emerged from their hobbit holes let out a shriek and popped right back down inside for another six weeks of frightened snoozing.

Showers are forecast starting Wednesday.