On the farm -- Day 1

It was an eventful weekend for Meagan and me. Friday morning was our first day ever working at a community supported agriculture (CSA) farm. For those who aren't familiar, CSAs dot rural America and are a much better way to attain most of your food for much of the year. CSAs work in two primary ways.

One way is for you to find your closest CSA and buy a share for the year. At our CSA, Sunny Sky Farm in Amherst Junction, Wisconsin, a share costs $420 for the regular season, which gives you a weekly average of 10 pounds of delicious, local, pesticide/herbicide-free, land-preserving, picked-yesterday food that will feed a family of four on a mixed diet for a week. Sunny Sky has convenient pickup spots in each of the 5 most populous cities in central Wisconsin. You get resupplied every Thursday/Friday from June through November, and you have the option of buying a storage share of hearty vegetables at the end of the year that you can preserve, so you can extend your consumption of local goodness for several more weeks.

The other way: you actually work for your share. At Sunny Sky Farm, we each put in approximately three hours of work in exchange for a full share. Being only two, we plan on shifting to a more vegetable-based diet in order to best take advantage of our earnings. Right now, the shares are on the lighter side, as it is early in the season, but later on, the boxes are supposed to get quite heavy; so we'll have plenty to share.

Your mileage may vary at other CSAs.

So, on Friday we earned our food by taking the tops off of radishes, hoeing between salad crops, preparing a greenhouse for planting, and weeding the garlic crop. The work was harder than we thought it would be, especially the weeding part, which was hours of bending and squatting and pulling. But besides overlooking a couple boxes of radishes and weeding what we thought were weeds (a.k.a. wildflowers) but were actually nitrogen-fixing crop covers, it was a decent start to the season. Having been raised in a megalopolis, we're gonna fuck up a few times, I'm sure (Farmer Mark is very understanding and nice). But we're learning how to raise the food that we and other community members eat to live. There are not many other things I'd rather do right now than learn how to tend my own food--to know what goes into it and what piece of land it comes from.

Our reward for working was a peaceful Friday morning in the country, a gigantic bag of spinach, a head of romaine (I think) lettuce, a bag of salad mix, a large quantity of Rhubarb that leaves me at a loss, a bunch of radishes, and a decent quantity of turnips. The selection of crops will change as the season progresses. The spinach was so delicious that we ate it all this weekend (sandwiches, wraps, salad, on pizza, in tomato sauce, and in a dish with mashed turnips, tofu, garam masala, turmeric, garlic, ginger, ghee, and onions) . Everything else is excellent too--except, I'm not sure about the rhubarb, which, as I said, perplexes me. Meagan says we'll make cobbler with it, and everyone else says "Rhubarb pie, duh!" but I still just sit there and shake my head wondering what I really can do with rhubarb. We'll make it work though.

Besides feeling the rather unexplainable joy of helping my sustenance grow straight out of the ground, I feel good knowing that most of my food takes minimal machine energy to produce and transport and that it is a sustainable operation. What better model could there be? You contribute either a fraction of your time or a fraction of your paycheck, and in return you get the most delicious, well taken care of, produced-nearly-in-your-backyard crops, as well as a connection to your community and the land.

Industrial agriculture, with all its pesticides, herbicides, disease, destruction, cruelty, GMOs, and pollution, is a failed model. As more people become aware of the CSA option, and as CSAs of all different kinds start to connect with each other across their localities, I'm sure we'll see a long overdue revolution in agriculture that actually serves to alleviate hunger and environmental damage thanks to the way CSAs bring commonsense, efficient, generations-tested yet fully modern methods of basic living to our refrigerators.

Time for some salad.

Eekin' out the MPG and reducing the footprint

These are my kinds of people:

Hypermilers slightly overinflate their tires to cut rolling resistance, seize every chance to coast with their gasoline engines off, and sometimes “draft” like race cars behind larger vehicles.

Though I don't own a hybrid like these folks, my manual transmission allows me to conserve a bit.

The making of Summer Camp (Rated R)

“There was a lot of tolerance for psychosis.” This statement comes from the History Channel show called Hippies. And though I'm not old enough to personally have experienced hippieness in its original state, I'm pretty familiar with its demented child... er, i mean its modern remnants.

Having not seen the History Channel program, I can't really comment on its content. But, as to the quoted bit of text above, I can say with certainty that psychosis is still tolerated, if not encouraged, in the community.

I spent Memorial Day weekend down in Chillicothe, Ill. at the neo/pseudo-hippie Summer Camp music festival, where approximately 10,000 people gather every year to camp, cook, imbibe, and smoke, and listen to some subpar bands. And, oh yeah, there's the portapotties, or "Little Johnnies" if you prefer, which, at certain horrifying parts of the weekend, inevitably end up filled to the brim with a foul brew of modern-day hippieness.

It was my third Summer Camp. Mostly I've been prodded into going every year. See, I used to be into the whole jamband scene, back when the bands were pretty good. I've seen Phish more times than I care to count, and I've seen scores of other noodly shows. But it got to the point where I felt most of the bands were either poor Phish/Dead imitators or just terrible, terrible songwriters and singers. While a few good bands still grace the scene, I now prefer my noodles in the form of unbleached whole wheat flour and appendages.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely love improvisation, which is at the root of the type of music that hits the festival circuit every summer. But it's gotta be good, productive improvisation that takes you on a journey and challenges you to question the fabric of reality. I know, I'm a demanding listener, but that's what improvisation is to me. While not the worst of the bunch, Moe. and Umphrey's McGee, the "headliners" of Summer Camp, are far from challenging. And most of the lesser known bands suck even more. I enjoyed three sets of music all weekend (Drop Q, Brainchild, and Toubab Krewe), two of which I already knew I was going to enjoy. All of this detail is to explain just what mediocrity composes the modern hippie experiment.

It's pretty sad. All the drugs (and then some) of the original hippie movement flood the fields of modern festivals. And people just don't know how to take their drugs responsibly. Granted, this year wasn't as bad because the authorities cracked down pretty hard, but still, almost every drug you could think of was available without a prescription, no matter your age or mental state. In fact, I'd say drugs take center stage at these festivals, with the music an afterthought or, in some cases, a vehicle for the drug user.

And this is where psychosis is still tolerated. People want to trip so bad that they're willing to take all kinds of things in liquid, powder, and solid form on the word of complete strangers--many of whom are there mostly to bank. Then the trippers run around all night doing weird things until they're so strung out all they can do is walk around like zombies and fall into people's tents. (It never fails; I always see someone crash into someone's tent at a festival.)

And then you've got the folks who think they are the gatekeepers of love and can see into the souls of everyone. They'll tell you your aura is bad or good (and then you're totally pegged!), or they'll talk about lightning bolts coming out of necks (not making this one up--no joke) and other such what I presume to be vague derivatives of vague derivatives of Eastern religion/philosophy that they use to establish their superiority.

And then there's the portapotties. While sanitation is probably one of the most crucial advances in our society, some people at Summer Camp don't care. They stuff all kinds of random stuff into the poop and pee receptacles, causing the latter to often clog, which is especially fun at night. Oh yeah, and let's not forget that someone always feels obligated to smear their crap around in there; don't know how or why, but it happens a lot.

Anyway, psychosis is the only plausible explanation for some of these actions. And people obviously love it: just consider the yearly increase in attendance for Summer Camp and other larger festivals like Bonnaroo. It's the modern incarnation of Woodstock. Hippies left a bad legacy in this regard.

All that said, this was my favorite Summer Camp. All our neighbors were awesome and kind (for a change) and there appeared to be less unstable druggies wandering around menacing others. Still, this will probably be my last Summer Camp. I'd rather spend my money on other, more satisfying experiences.

I'll take peace and love and communal living and jamming and saving the earth and enjoying myself--just without all the weirdness. Come on, you pseudo-hippies, it's not too late: don't bolster the Nuge's position, OK?

A-huntin morels, part dos

Nada fungus found. Too dry methinks. Or we're bad hunters. Like the tepid Cubs fan I am, I have no problem making myself feel better with the mantra, "There's always next year."

We did, however, get infested by ticks, mostly of the Wood variety--though those Lyme-carrying Deer ticks were out and about as well. But, once again, it was a beautiful day for a hike. Gorgeous green landscape has returned in force to central Wisconsin.

There's nothing like a glorious, relaxing weekend to make you have an aversion to Monday in the office. Or maybe I'm a bit cynical and/or ungrateful. The wiser part of me would take the beauty of the weekend and inject it into my vocational obligations, thereby making the workweek tolerable or even (gasp!) slightly enjoyable. The hardened side of me, though, is all too aware of this tomfoolery and preemptively smites the wiser part, just looking forward to Friday. And then there's the adventurous part of me (my better third, as I say) that wants to do nothing but try something different. This, my friends, is a Typical Monday™, brought to you by my brain.

A-huntin morels

Me and the fiance went huntin for morels yesterday. It was our first time ever doing it, and like so many others during their first time, we went home empty-handed. We kind of went out on a whim to a local forested area in Stevens Point; I'm pretty sure it was less-than-ideal habitat for morels, as I didn't come across many ashes or dead elms or apple trees.

However, it was a beautiful evening, and we glimpsed a snake, some kind of ground toad, a heron, a pileated woodpecker, a family of deer, and newly flowering vegetation. I did get a couple nice closeups of the snake and the flowering plant, which I'll post soon, hopefully.

On the other end of the spectrum, the ticks and mosquitos are out. I need to dress more appropriately next time.

We plan on doin some more huntin this week, preferably in more suitable morel habitat. It's just about the perfect time of year here I hear. Anybody out there in Central Wisconsin know of a good general area to look for morels? Please help a beginner out. I promise I won't give up your secrets.

Old transportation of the two-wheel kind

I ride my bike to work almost every day. I do it for the earth, my health, and my wallet.

From an ecological perspective, all I emit is the CO2 I exhale during my ride. My bike spews zero chemicals (aside from the occasional lubricant I need for my old chain), all the parts are original, and the bike is probably 15 years old.

As far as cost goes, smart environmental decisions often equal smart financial decisions. Many people in america are just beginning to really figure this connection out, but it has been evident for so long. And, as I said, the bike is 15 years old, yet I haven't had to throw down money on replacement parts. Granted, it's in pretty bad shape, and I haven't always ridden it full time, but it has been quite durable nonetheless. The brakes do need to be changed soon though--before I crash into a tree or get impaled on a hood ornament.

The health thing is definitely the most tangible reward for biking it every day. It's awesome to feel myself get stronger and gain more endurance with each ride. I probably get into work smelling like a dirty hippy and sweating like a crackhead, but life requires such tradeoffs.

My journey is six miles round trip, and I probably do another couple miles during lunch. It takes about 20 minutes to get to work. The most amazing thing about cycling, I've found, is that it's personally fulfilling and liberating to power myself around. And it actually makes going to the office a bit more tolerable.

When I first moved to Central Wisconsin, my round-trip commute to work was about 50 miles. Later, when I went back to school, it took 70 miles to get to and from the university. Now, during a normal week, I put more miles on my bike than my car. I much prefer my current mode of transportation.

I only wish I didn't have to deal with such harsh winters, however. To that end: Anybody from a warmer yet still beautiful area of the country (nudge, nudge--I love the mountains of the Southeast) want to hire me before winter returns? I'll bring you cheese.

Our forests

I've always been a lover of forests--well, at least since I can remember. I remember being taken up to Wisconsin when I was a kid, on vacations to escape the weird sprawl of Suburbia, Chicago. Of course, my parents had no real problems with suburbia: they had lived there forever, aside from a few short departures. So, when I say escape, I mean that leaving suburbia was to become an escape for me. I remember being awed at the forested landscape, at the smells of the pines, at the wild prairie flowers. What was an escape eventually became sustenance. I would learn to focus most of my vocational efforts on saving up enough money to take frequent trips into "natural" areas.

Now I live in Wisconsin, a heavily forested state, relatively. The first county I lived in here was Adams. It is one of the poorest counties in the state, sparsely populated and filled with lots of interesting forest lands. The county I live in now, Portage, has a university and several decent-sized towns. It is less forested than Adams, but it still has lots of natural beauty. Stevens Point is quite an amazing city from several different angles, but I'm gonna focus on the forests here.

Though Stevens Point is the largest city in Portage County, with about 25,000 people, you'd be hard pressed to find a more forested city of its size. And I'm talking about forest in the city proper. Not only do we have a wonderful nature preserve attached to the college and a sprawling Green Circle Trail, with 30 miles or so of beautiful trails that meander next to rivers and through pine stands, but we also have acres of private forestland hidden away in various corners of the city that are open to exploration (not sure if its legal, per se, but the lack of those "no trespassing" signs tells me I'm allowed). According to the WI Dept. of Natural Resources, urban areas in Portage County average about 35% tree canopy cover, whereas the state average for urban areas is 32%. Pretty impressive, in my opinion. I can't even tell you how much I love the Green Circle Trail; I use it to ride my bike to work--it accounts for about half my ride.

But there's a troubling trend in Portage County: We're literally losing our forests. Back in 1984, long before I got here, 34% of the county's land was forested. Same percentage in 1996. But, in 2004 only 30% of the land was forested. That's a loss of nearly 24,000 acres of forestland in only eight years. Numbers aren't available for 2007, but I can only imagine the downward trend continues. At the same time, though, most of the counties surrounding Portage have steady or increasing levels of forestland, and Wisconsin as a whole is showing an upward trend.

I'm not sure what the deal is here. I suspect that the recent influx of national chain stores has something to do with it. Where there was nothing but land just a few short years ago, there now exists Walmart, Best Buy, Lowe's, Kohl's, McDonalds, some buffet chain, a couple regional restaurants, Starbucks, US Cellular, MC Sports, Cousin's Subs, Petsmart, and Michael's craft store. Hmm... I'm probably forgetting a couple. But, damn, that's a lot of stores--and that's all in one area. Don't even get me started on the rest of the city.

Portage County is definitely growing, and businesses are pouring in. But it's the same old business model that is the product of a failed, unsustainable era of city and land planning. Most of these chains don't know what local means. So, as they set up shop on the outskirts of our city, take up our land and resources and suck up our money, most of the wealth is diverted to some corporate headquarters where it will no doubt be invested in another duplicate building somewhere else in some small city that is ripe for plundering.

I don't know. I see a lot of subdivisions and same-old neighborhoods going up around here, especially in the neighboring towns of Plover, Hull and Whiting. In fact, it seems to me that these towns are some kind of weirdo upcoming suburbs of Stevens Point. It's kind of a sick thought. As once-forested lots are bought up by developers, trees are just mowed down to make room for cookie-cutter houses. I just don't understand that model of development. I do, however, understand that population is growing and people need to put up houses. But can't we lessen our footprint? Haven't we learned something?

Whether one wants to admit it or not, all evidence points to the fact that the earth needs its forests. Truly healthy forests are places of biodiversity, places of sustenance and renewal. We rely on the life processes that are protected and nourished by our forests. Yet, when business comes along, we forget that. One only needs to look at the recent decline of the honey bee--just the latest in a line of collapsing life processes--to realize that when we harshly encroach on the natural order without any forethought, we risk causing serious problems with major repercussions. Ah, the "hidden" costs. When will we start factoring those into the equation?

Back in college, my environmental ethics professor, a Leopold scholar, had an elegant theory of wilderness usurpation. It went something like this:

Draw a square on a piece of paper; this square represents our wilderness. Now, shade half of it; this is the part of the land we agree to turn over for development. Now, shade a quarter of what's left; this is the part of the land we compromise on and turn over for more "needed" development. Now, shade an eigth of what's left; once again, compromise has brought us to give up our land for more "needed" development. And so on, until not much of the land is left to its own devices. Those who refuse to compromise what's left of the land (because they know better) are smeared politically and marginalized as radicals; though, in reality, they are the true conservatives when it comes to this issue.

While certain parts of the country may not be operating under this exact model (as is evidenced by the actual increase in forestland in Wisconsin), many places are struggling to hold on to what's left of their wilderness. And it's literally a struggle, because some people still can't see how the land is important on so many levels.

Fortunately, Wisconsin has a rich tradition of conservation and preservation. We fostered movement giants like Muir and Leopold. I have faith that Wisconsin will go in the right direction, even if my county falters a bit. And I know that other parts of the country have their inspiration as well.

Seeing as how I got my environmental ethics degree under the tutelage of the aforementioned Leopold scholar, I carry a lot of Leopold's Land Ethic with me. His thoughts just rang true with what I already knew. And if there's anything Leopold expressed that we need to remember today, it's this: humans are merely plain members of the land community. Our days of domination are effectively over, and the sooner we come to terms with this situation, the better we'll be in the long run.

We're a populous species, and we will likely require more space on this planet. But I think we can live in harmony with the land. For me, the forests are not supposed to be separate from us; I think, with commonsense development, we can safely take our places in the heart of the community, just as we have most of our history on this planet.

Update; and The obsurdity of territory

My absence has certainly gone unnoticed. But anyway, I haven't had much to write about lately. The problem is: all my best ideas come to me at work. Then I get home and turn my brain off for a couple hours. And, unfortunately, I can't really post at work.

***

For those who don't know, a few days ago Iran seized a bunch of British sailors who were conducting a standard search of vessels entering Iraqi waters. Iran claims, however, that the Brits were in their waters. So they took those seamen. And they won't give 'em back. But they have assured Blair that the troops are safe and fit, or something like that. Blair was pissed; said something to the effect that shit would hit the fan if Iran didn't return the soldiers. Iran said, "no."

Today's development:

``The rumor is that the Brits went in for a rescue attempt on the Royal Marines and Navy guys,'' said Mark Waggoner, president of Excel Futures Inc. in Huntington Beach California, referring to 15 British military personnel seized by Iran on March 23. ``And we don't know if that's true.''

Two things: First, this (read: everything about this situation) is the small shit that starts world wars. It's ridiculous. Both of these countries' leaders need to sit down and smoke a bowl or something. Remember what happened when Hezbollah swiped only two Israeli soldiers? War. But an Iranian-British war would be horrible and far reaching. Second, and more importantly, this goes to show the absolute lunacy associated with the concept of "territory." Not only do countries claim land, but they're like, "shit, I need to extend my ownership out 100 miles into 'coastal' waters, too." Well, I don't know if it's 100 miles, but it is some similar distance. Are the North Pole and Antarctica claimed? Methinks not. But it won't be much longer. Same goes for the moon and the earth's orbit and any ocean that's left.

I'd like to think this modern Westernized world could be capable of one day living without brutal and absolute ownership of land (and water, for that matter). If yes, it would probably cut the number of wars by some significant percentage. But I just don't know if we have it in us anymore. Maybe there's some extant cultures out there that can show us a better way. We have some on this very continent who might know, if the old ways haven't already been obliterated by globalization.

Don't even get me started on globalization.

The weather and other random crap

It hit the 40s here today. It's a frickin heat wave. How awesome. I like talking about the weather for some reason (anybody who ends up reading this blog regularly will probably see what I mean, so let me apologize ahead of time). What's funny is that as a teenager I absolutely hated talking about it: I thought it was the smallest of the small talk. Now, I don't know what has happened to me, but I'll gladly carry on a hearty conversation about jet streams and convection and Alberta clippers and thunder snow. Well, I'm kind of lying, because nobody in their right mind, aside from meteorologists, wants to talk about those things. (Which reminds me, if you like meteorology and have access to WGN over the air or on your cable/satellite provider--and if provider carries the feed of WGN that shows the Chicago news--tune in to the noon and nine p.m. broadcasts, Central time of course, to see the best weather forecast breakdown I've ever witnessed on TV.) Anyway, Neil from the Up Series of documentaries makes a good point in 28 Up. He says that people who live most of their lives outdoors don't talk about the weather much because they live in it; everybody thus intimately knows what's going on in their environment and they have few reasons to discuss it further. Makes sense to me. So, we'll see what happens when Spring finally rolls around and I get my ass out on the hiking trails. Will I blog less about the weather? One can only hope.

Other stuff of interest (maybe):

~Spring your time ahead this Sunday morning. It'll be nice to have some extra light during waking hours.

~Did ye know Geoffrey Chaucer hath a blog? That's right. He and a few of his merry friends make witty posts in all their Middle English glory. And don't miss the occasional Old English (must be late OE) post by guest blogger Tremulus Aescgar, who reminds us what it was like "bifore the Frenssh cam to Engelonde." Represent!

~Wikipedia has a list of unusual articles. Trust me, this page is hours of fun.

~One of those articles is about Uncyclopedia, Wikipedia's alter-ego. Again, hours of fun.

Substance behind the statement

So, flipping through the channels last night, I caught Mitt Romney on CSPAN. It was part of their ongoing series highlighting the race for president in 2008. Mitt is a Republican, former governor of Massachusetts. I watched for about two minutes while waiting for Alton Brown to come back on, and I really couldn't handle Mitt's bullshit for much more than that anyway. At first Mitt sounded okay on the surface. He talked about lowering various taxes for the middle class--that kind of stuff that every politician talks about. Then he got all proud of his so-called social conservatism. He basically took shots at homosexuality and medical science and the other standard stuff that is so sound-biteish in modern politics. His big subconclusion was something to the effect that he has, throughout his political career, stood up for traditional values. Traditional values? I guess I don't know what that means to some people.

As a big history nut, traditional values are interesting to me. One of my passions is Appalachian history. I like the idea of a family unit and/or a community coming together to survive in this world, despite the fact that most times the rest of the world you are aware of is against your people. I value many traditions, including respect for and deep knowledge of the land. I like the tradition of self-government and self-reliance that is deeply, though more and more obscurely, rooted in our unique history. I like the fact that we have the chance to look to the oldest in our society, those who are the keepers of nearly lost knowledge.

The values of tradition that I hold dear are, to me, intrinsically useful. Losing these values would cripple our society if one day our modern technology/lifestyle failed us. I value lots of things that are rooted in the past.

Unfortunately, politicians and journalists don't understand tradition. Or, if they do, they spin tradition into a narrow meaning. Either way, the result is people like Mitt.

To interject, I don't really consider myself partisan. Most people who know me would say I'm liberal. And that's fair. I lean to the left quite heavily. But I really don't buy into the right/left dichotomy. Those who really know me would say that I have strong libertarian tendencies as well. I'm also rooted in the philosophies of Montaigne, Hume, Deleuze, Nietzsche, and Foucault. I think I'm fairly independent when it comes to issues and politics. But hey, the labels come out when you have to operate in a political system that is so polarizing. My point is that I'm not a Democrat, or a Republican, or Green, or anything. In other words, if a politician wants to talk to me about stuff, I'm listening. But you better not talk like an asshole or a simpleton.

Nowadays, the culture war is everything. One side claims tradition and values. Another side claims acceptance and progress. And none of it makes sense because all sides could easily exchange the labels they rely on and still be talking about the same shit.

When people say they stand as the gatekeepers of tradition, they're full of crap. Most people, in one way or another, cling to tradition. At the same time, most people want progress. You can't have one without the other because the resulting lack of any balance would cause the personal system you live life by to collapse for want of structural integrity. When I hear a politician get on their pedestal and tell me that they and their party represent the sole voice for tradition, it makes me want to yell. And yelling is not good: it destroys a conversation. So, I refuse to yell. But then, my subsequent natural preference is to withdraw. And that's not that good either.

What I want to see is people argue for their traditions based on the simplest sense of utility: How does your tradition and your values positively impact society? You can't just say "traditional" or "values" and automatically claim some sort of authority. No, you must elaborate. You must show us how what you hold dear is beneficial for people. You must show us relevance. I want it carefully spelled out for me every time you make such a deep claim. If you don't, I will not hesitate to completely disregard your whole message. We know how logic works: if one premise is weak or unsupported, then the rest of the argument is lost.

Sometimes tradition is unhelpful, sometimes it's productive, and sometimes it's downright harmful. All the time, it's worth exploring--but, we can't forget, so is change.

Sadly, people who are strict partisans fail to see how another perspective always--always!--has something of value to offer. Screw parties and the political spectrum and anything else that attempts to essentialize a person's mindset or philosophy. Think we'd survive without political parties or partisanship? Yeah, it's hard to even imagine what that world would be like. But I believe it's probable and preferable.

What Mitt's little superficial appeal to tradition really got me thinking about was my value for some old ways that were prevalent not too long ago: people in this country, at least those who lived the rural life (which were many), used to have a close connection to the earth. They knew when crops needed to be planted and harvested; they knew how to track animals in the woods; they knew which wild plants were which and what each was good for; they knew the best wood to burn for warmth; they knew the general time by the position of the sun, moon or stars in the sky; they knew the night sky so well in general; they knew their neighbors; they knew solitude; they knew quiet time; they knew really, truly hard work--but work that was all theirs; and they knew uncountable other things that are virtually lost in modern day America. Our entire history as humans has been about living closely with the land. While that relationship has been complicated, and filled with ups and downs, it has been the physical (and often spiritual) center and bedrock of people's lives since always.

What happens if technology and synthetics have to completely replace intuition and naturally occurring substance? I don't really know. My gut says that it would turn out bad eventually. And if it doesn't, well, I get the impression that it wouldn't be such a fun or meaningful world to live in. But I also admit that I could just be desperately clinging to an old way of life that is bound to die like so many others. I doubt it though.

So, who's seriously talking about this tradition out there? It's important to a lot of people, even if it's not vocalized loudly. (Wink wink, nudge nudge--I'm talking to some of you libertarians and environmentalists. This is right up your alley.) I want to hear talk about what it means to be self-reliant or to be an environmentalist. Our political lives are not about the hot-button, superficial issues that generate high ratings on TV. Anyone who says, "I own issue x" just doesn't get it. And that goes for everyone--right or left, the religious or the secularists, northerners or southerners, the political or the non-political, or whatever binary opposition we are told to position ourselves in.

Alright, this post is getting out of control.