Branding

In the Anthony Burgess novel A Clockwork Orange the youth speak an argot influenced by subliminal Soviet propaganda. So the Russian “khorosho” (good) becomes “horrorshow.” Alex, the young leader of the criminal gang, praises his mate Dim as a “horrorshow filthy fighter.” There was a time when everyone was worried about the subliminal effects of advertising. And with good reason—look around you, you can see that everything today is branded.

I once used the descriptor “thermal underwear” in a high school classroom. The kids looked at me in dismay: what was that? When I said, “you know, like Under Armour.” They immediately understood but then wanted to know why I didn’t just say that in the first place. I tried to explain about names and brand names, nouns and proper nouns, but they couldn’t hear me. They live in a thoroughly branded world. I used to ask them if Aeropostale or Tommy Hilfiger paid them for the privilege of advertising on their bodies. They would look at me in bewilderment.

Walk down the street and look at the t-shirts. How many of them have brands emblazoned on them? Hell, look in your closet. We can hardly buy certain clothes today without some kind of corporate identifier on them: ball teams, product lines, tourist destinations, you name it. Entire generations of kids have been raised in a world that doesn’t drive cars so much, rather it’s Civics or Tacomas or somesuch. They don’t eat breakfast, they have a Frappuccino and a Pop-tart. They don’t buy shoes or boots they get Nikes or Doc Martens.

I don’t know anyone who says “social media” or “internet search.” We Facebook and Google. The corporate overlords who fund our advertising experts have completely penetrated our intellectual sphere and we see the world as they wish us to. We frame our questions on their terms. Look at all this Zuckerberg kerfuffle. His view of privacy is somewhere else. It has nothing to do with our standard notions of what is private and what is public, what is sacred and what is sell-able. Users don’t care about privacy anymore. Well, we have angry Senators and whatnot, but those guys, like most politicians, represent outmoded viewpoints.

Today’s consumer is happy to have targeted ads. Why waste time on ones that don’t apply? The wonderful SF writer Philip K. Dick postulated the emergence of what he called “homeopapes” which were newspapers that printed out on demand and were customized to the interests and ideology of the reader. Sounds like newsfeeds to me. We all know the big issue with Facebook is not privacy, but the echo-chamber effect. We filter out stuff we don’t want to see and we reinforce our own biases with stuff we already know and already believe in. I like Facebook for the social aspect, I can keep in touch with lots of people easily. I don’t do anything serious, other than publish my blog posts, and I generally weed out anything that takes more than about a thirty seconds to consume. If I want deep intellectual stuff or serious discussions of politics, philosophy, or public policy I choose other forums.

I don’t care what Facebook does with my data. If this free service becomes burdensome, I’ll quit. What happened is that Mark Zuckerberg and his team of ultra-nerds got punked. By the Russians, for sure, and perhaps by competitors as well. This is the cutthroat reality of international capitalism. Mr. Z had to go to Washington and hold a few hands, but mostly he had to reassure his shareholders. Facebook, I’ve no doubt, wants to keep making money, so they’ll get some better nerds and beef up their security and whatever else needs beefing up and try to fend off the next round of attacks.

When I say I don’t care about my data I don’t mean I don’t care about security. Obviously I don’t want anyone hacking into my Visa, PayPal, or my Ameritrade accounts. And I have a feeling that outfits like Visa, PayPal, and Ameritrade are eager to keep my business and eager to keep making money off me, so they will make a big effort to make me feel secure. I can live with that, the risks are worth the convenience of things like credit cards, on-line payment services, and electronic investing.

But what Facebook wants to do with my skiing pictures or whatnot hardly matters. If I don’t want to share something, I won’t. I don’t want to trivialize privacy concerns, I’m just thinking that perhaps we need a new definition of privacy. TV invaded our homes and re-wired our brains decades ago. People go on TV and say and do things that make me cringe, but that doesn’t stop them. And there are more every day to take their places. We say and do things on-line that are even more outrageous and increasingly disconnected from our corporate selves, and it seems there is an endless supply of us ready to bare all, literally and figuratively.

Maybe the data saturation will become so massive that any particular little bit will be irrelevant. You like an SS-clad dominatrix whipping you after work? So what. Get in line. Everyone who works at this place has some bizarre hobby. We don’t care, just make the company money when you are here. That’s what I anticipate. We’ll all have our quirks and oddities out there and we’ll all stop caring. The alternative is a neo-tribalism where you only congregate with other fundamentalist vegan metal-heads. I find that to be a lot less appealing. I like variety. Maybe our loss of certain kinds of privacy will make us nicer because we’ll spend less time hiding behind our social facades.

In the meantime we’ll slap on the brands and advertise for free. Maybe the real beef is that we should be in control of selling our data. We let Facebook do it for us, if we did it for ourselves we’d feel in control and so we wouldn’t have privacy objections. But how do you do that? The marketing whizzes don’t need ONE person’s data, they need heaping piles of data, so your individual bits and bytes are probably worthless. In fact, they can figure YOU out by using the info from everyone else! So quit bitchin’ and join the herd and become one more node in the hive mind of the human race.

0.00000001

That’s one hundred-millionth. Or 1/100,000,000. Or 1 E −8 (one times ten to the negative eight power). I’m thinking about this little tiny bit—a millionth percent—because of the stock market. I own some stocks and it’s a different kind of thing than owning a car or a house. I have twenty shares of Chevron Corporation, for example. Well, it’s a little more than that because I have a DRIP (dividend reinvestment plan) and the money I make goes back into buying shares. I have acquired 1.867 new shares since the first twenty. I guess that means I buy them in lots of 0.001 share or something, I don’t know! Anyway, I was curious: how many shares of Chevron are there in the world?

According to this NASDAQ site there are 1,910,520,000 outstanding shares of common stock. That’s a messy number and I’m rounding it off to two billion. I don’t know if Chevron has preferred stocks or not, and I assume they have bondholders who must “own” a part of the corporation, so rounding up seems reasonable. I don’t know a thing about corporate finance but I’m guessing there’s more to wealth than just the shares of common stock. But I digress. I wanted to know how much of the Chevron Corporation I “owned” with my 21.867 shares. If I make that 20 the calculation is easy. Twenty divided by two billion is 0.00000001 (0.000001%), or one hundred-millionth part (one-millionth percent).

That’s a pretty small piece of a rather big pie. The company lists $250 billion in assets. That sits in between the GDPs of Ireland ($300B) and New Zealand ($185B). A new aircraft carrier costs $13B or so, so $250B could get you about twenty of them! But I’m not here to pick on Chevron, just trying to get a handle on these numbers. After all, I’m a hundred-millionth part of them so I should have my say on things. And I suppose I do via proxies, but it’s rather remote. And I imagine those folks with much bigger pieces of the pie are perhaps more able to influence the company.

My vanishingly small fraction won’t make me rich. It’s so small of a piece that it matters not who actually owns it. Some day I’ll sell the shares (at a profit, I hope) and someone else can own them. Chevron will go on without me. My vanishingly small fraction protects me from the company as well. If they get sued for being assholes somewhere it won’t touch me. The stocks might go down in value but I’ll be insulated from any consequences because I’m just a hair on a gnat on the back of a huge beast. This, I suppose, is how it is supposed to work. By spreading out the ownership you spread out the liability, and thus the company can take risks in their quest to make money.

I suppose if Chevron is fouling the Amazon or the Ecuadorian rain forest or something I’m only 1/100,000,000th responsible so you can’t blame me. I just tagged along for the ride, it’s not my fault. They promised me some money on this deal, man. I mean, I’m lucky if I hit 75 kilos dripping wet. One hundred-millionth of me is a snowflake. A few grains of sand. If you want your pound of flesh from me come and get it, I won’t notice.

I started out trying to think about owning something. Owning part of Chevron is not like owning a bicycle. Chevron is kind of like a bicycle, though. A bicycle needs to be rolling to stay upright, it will fall over if it isn’t moving at a sufficient speed. The rider needs to keep the energy stream flowing. Chevron has debtors and shareholders to pay and they have to have sufficient revenue to do that. They have to keep the income stream flowing or the whole thing falls apart. They certainly don’t want that to happen. So they keep drilling for oil and refining it and selling gasoline (which I buy) and whatever else they do. Because they, in essence, have promised their “owners” that they would.

The modest few shekels I’ve invested in Chevron won’t bankrupt me if I lose them. But I’d prefer to see them grow. If I prosper then I can spend money and other people can prosper, too. I won’t be entirely responsible for their prosperity of course, just a vanishingly small fraction of it. And it’s not entirely true that what’s good for Chevron is good for me. In fact, they often are at cross-purposes to what is good for me (and potentially many others). It seems to me it would be good business for Chevron to invest in cleaner technologies and other energy sources besides oil. It seems like it would be good business to extract resources and manufacture products safely and sustainably.

And it is. Over the long term. In the short term it’s often easier just to make a profit and worry about pollution, for example, down the road. With seven billion of us now I think we are already down that road a long way. Our corporations have inordinate political power and they can set the agenda to suit a narrow, entirely economic outlook. Nothing like high quarterly earnings to make people happy. I want our energy and transportation infrastructure to thrive and evolve. I want to see innovation and increased efficiency. I want to see new solutions developed and dispersed. That takes capital and expertise, two things outfits like Chevron have a lot of. We need our corporations to widen their outlooks to include things like quality of life and the conservation and wise use of resources. Money is good, but it is not everything. Note the root eco- in both “economy” and “ecology.” It’s Greek for “house” (oikos), and we are always being told to get our houses in order, am I right?

So, I’m casting my millionth-percent ballot for a more ecologically-minded future from our corporate overlords.

I’ll just have to write really small.

Eating Oil

My dad used to say we’d all be eating petroleum in the future. At first I thought that was just another nutty thing and add it to the list. My dad said a lot of nutty things. His point at the time was not some cosmic, Arthur C. Clarke-like prediction, however. It was simply connecting the dots: it took energy (primarily in the form of fossil fuels) not only to farm our crops but to process them and ultimately to store and transport the foodstuffs they created. Our food is very energy-intensive. That energy once came from human and animal muscles, now it comes from machines. Those machines need oil and our farms need oil-produced products like fertilizers and pesticides as well as fuel for trucks and tractors and whatnot. In a sense we were already eating oil.

Dad didn’t know much about chemistry, but he knew that hydrocarbons and carbohydrates were pretty close on the chemical spectrum. He thought it should be easy to convert fossil fuels directly into something edible. It’s not a bad notion. You can’t get stuff much more organic than petroleum, coal, or natural gas. They were once living things after all: oil comes from marine plankton and coal from tropical plants. Dad knew that hydrocarbon resources were wildly abundant. It was the 1970s and we’d had the Oil Embargo and gas rationing but he knew that was just politics and economics. There was—and still is—plenty of oil out there. We aren’t going to run out. We’ve plucked the low-hanging fruit, to be sure, but the tree is certainly not stripped.

So Dad’s idea was that it would make more sense to synthesize food directly from the stuff in the ground rather than go to all the trouble and energy expenditure to process the oil into fuel and other agro-chemicals and then grow food, process it and transport and store it for sale. Nutty, I know, but not that improbable. We may have to get used to some rather strange food sources in the future. I suspect that wild-caught salmon might get replaced by jellyfish extract at some point, at least for the hoi polloi. The one-percenters won’t lack for anything of course, but the rest of humanity will likely be eating an interesting variety of synthetic amalgamations. I’m sure they’ll be quite nutritious and exhibit a variety of flavors and textures so we’ll get by. “Real” food will be a luxury item. It will be a difficult transition at first as we have very romantic notions about food. Ultimately hunger will win out and we will learn and adapt. Meat, for example, will likely be grown in vats instead of on animals. At some point we won’t know the difference.

All these things will require energy, and maybe the energy sources will be solar or nuclear rather than oil, so maybe we won’t eat petroleum after all. In fact, I think Dad had it backwards. We’ll be going the other way and converting carbohydrates to hydrocarbons. Or at least converting them to fuels. We already get ethanol from fermentation and mix that into our gasoline. The source of that ethanol is mostly corn (maize) and other mass-produced crops like sugarcane. A lot of waste from crop harvesting (stalks, leaves, and such) could be carbohydrate sources as well. Advances in bio-engineering will allow us to ramp up production and we’ll soon have vats of microbes belching out organic fuels for our cars and trucks and boats and planes.

Before the Industrial Revolution every society was carbohydrate-based. Food supplied the energy for humanity and their beasts of burden. The great transition of the last two hundred years has been to hydrocarbon-based societies. Coal came first, then crude oil and natural gas, and the machines took over. I suspect we’ll need a lot more of that stuff as our population grows, and we’ll have to exploit all the other energy resources like nuclear and renewables, as well as carbohydrate-based fuels. In fact, it’s all on the table. Until we come up with some amazing things like fusion or hydrogen fuel cells that can be deployed effectively we have to use what we already have. We know that it works. Yes, we have some serious environmental consequences from our energy choices, but we need the energy or our way of life goes kaput.

What I should say is we need cheap, abundant energy. Everything else depends on that. We squabble a lot over politics and “issues” and other mostly dumb things. We’d be better off thinking about the things we HAVE to do something about, namely, how to fuel the world and our lives within that world. Physics is a cruel master. There are no shortcuts. We have to have lots of available energy so we can grow and prosper as a civilization. I’m not sure where it’s all coming from, so I suspect you don’t either. I guess we’d better get to work on that.

 

Heaven’s Fall

I’m all burned out about / space junk / walk and talk about / space junk / it smashed my baby’s head / space junk / and now my Sally’s dead / space junk

That’s from Devo. It was 1978 and a year later Skylab came down to much hype. The station had been in a decaying orbit for years, it’s not like Devo were prescient. And of course other spacecraft had previously fallen from the sky, notably Soviet Salyut/Kosmos stations and such things as Saturn booster pieces. Skylab, however, was big. At roughly 75 tonnes* it was the largest object to ever fall from orbit. The only thing larger happened many years later when the Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated over Texas on its return voyage in 2003. That was not only a 100+ tonne spacecraft but it held seven human passengers.

This Easter weekend we get treated to another space fall, that of China’s Tiangong-1 space station. Tiangong means “Heavenly Palace.” After its mission life Tiangong was supposed to break up in the atmosphere on a controlled re-entry. But Ground Control, it seems, has lost control of the orbiter and it’s going to come down on its own. Skylab was about ten times more massive than Tiangong. Large pieces of that craft were found in Australia. And no, no one was hit or killed. In fact, there are no known terrestrial casualties from falling space debris. A few dozen much larger objects than Tiangong have dropped out of the sky since 1957’s Sputnik-1. The third-largest, at 45 tonnes, was the second-stage of the Saturn V rocket that launched Spacelab into low earth orbit!

So we’ve been through this before. Stuff that we launch into orbit around our planet doesn’t stay there forever. It falls back to earth at some point, usually because it runs out of fuel. Space stations and other manned spacecraft orbit the earth about 200 miles up. By contrast, communications satellites use “geostationary” orbits over 20,000 miles above the earth. Those are typically boosted to higher orbits (called “graveyards”) at the end of their lifespans so their spots can be claimed by their replacements. Not so for low earth orbits. Those still encounter atmospheric drag, even if it is very small, and have to frequently fire their rockets to maintain their orbital elevations.

It’s hard to get into space and it’s hard to stay in space. And it’s even harder for humans to survive in space. As much as we all like the idea of human astronauts exploring Mars that is a daunting task. I can only imagine it would take many launches of support craft that would create both orbital and surface depots so that any human voyage could have enough supplies to get there, visit, and return. The trips to the moon took three days. A trip to Mars would take about seven months! There about a dozen people on earth who have spent more than 200 continuous days in space and only one to have spent over 400 days. Such a mission would require an enormous commitment of resources and would likely have to be international. In fact there’s a good chance it will be a private venture as governments and taxpayers will probably balk at the costs.

There’s too much to learn from our space-based adventures not to continue them. Most of the work will be carried out remotely by robots and computers, we don’t actually have to go to the moon, an asteroid, or Mars to explore these places. In fact, our drones will do a better job and there won’t be any risk to human life. That’s boring, though. People don’t care about scientific discoveries (unless those discoveries cure cancer or something). But they do like space travel and they like the idea of astronauts investigating extra-terrestrial frontiers.

At some point in the future, if we survive as a species, the synergy between our carbon-based brains and our silicon-based AIs will, I hope, be the breakthrough that enables such things as off-world living. But until then we’ll have to be content with a few astronomical Niñas, Pintas, and Santa Marias that will just barely make it across the gulf of space, and if they are lucky, plant a flag or two and get home in one piece. Don’t expect a flood of emigrants to the new worlds, though. 3500 miles was quite a distance in those days, but a ship could do it in two months, and when they got there they still had air and they could forage for water and food. Our astronauts will find their Promised Land a bit less hospitable.

 

*tonne: one metric ton or 1000 kilograms (about 2200 pounds)

Our Silicon Society

. . . you don’t need no silicone / to calculate poverty / there’s no need to brotha / everybody can see / cuz it’s one more time in the ghetto / one more time if you please . . .

–The Clash, “One More Time”

I’m going to give Joe Strummer and his mates a pass here, poetic license and all, but I’m sure they meant silicon and not silicone. After all, one uses silicon in computer chips, not silicone. It’s a common mistake. Silicones are polysiloxanes, synthetic polymers made (primarily) from the elements silicon and oxygen. We are familiar with them from caulks, sealants, lubricants, and a variety of heat-resistant materials. And of course as a filling material in breast implants.

Silicon is an element, not a compound. It is not found in nature in its elemental form, however. The earth’s crust is composed primarily of silica (silicon dioxide or quartz) and silicate minerals (like olivine, pyroxene, amphibole, mica, etc.). The stuff is everywhere. And we use these materials to make other materials like concrete. So not only did nature surround us with silicon-based substances, we’ve surrounded ourselves with our own versions of the stuff.

The pure form of silicon needed for electronic devices is energy-intensive. It takes a lot of heat to free elemental silicon from its oxide. Most of the industrially-produced silicon goes into ferrosilicons which are used in steelmaking. A small fraction goes into integrated circuits. But that’s the use that gets names changed: Santa Clara Valley in California is now called Silicon Valley due to all the technology and computer firms there.

Immersed as we are in silicon, it was only natural that our silicon-based creations would come to be a part of us. Soon we will encounter silicon-based entities that will pass the Turing Test and fool us into thinking they are intelligent. We are a long way from that despite Siri, Alexa, Deep Blue, and self-driving cars. But perhaps not as far as we think. After all, the Turing Test is about the appearance of intelligence. The machine just has to fool humans into thinking they are interacting with a human. It does not have to be as smart as a human. Already we know that computers are smarter than us for many, many tasks. We like to believe that we will always retain human abilities that no machine could emulate. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I don’t think it matters.

A silicon intelligence would be its own thing. It won’t just exist to mimic or think like humans. It will have its own schemes for learning and generating knowledge. The human mind isn’t the only kind of mind. The human mind may be responsible for creating artificial intelligence, but that does not mean it will be created entirely in its own image. An AI should be an AI for its own sake. And we don’t know yet what our machines are capable of.

I think we’ll get used to AIs handling things that seem off-limits now, like medical diagnostics. I can even imagine the therapeutic use of AI in psychology and psychiatry for example, since a machine could be entirely without bias or preconceived notions. It could be entirely without empathy, too, but because it is tireless and infinitely tolerant it might not matter. After all it is the patient that needs to talk, not the therapist! People talk to their pets, to their gods, and to their dead relatives. Is it so hard to imagine they’d talk to an on-line doc?

AIs will ultimately have to govern our traffic. Not just cars on the highway but ships and planes and satellites and everything. There’s a lot now, there will be more later. It will get too complex for un-enhanced humans and it will be better if we turn it over to devices more capable than ourselves. I don’t think this is something we will have to fear. Certainly once an intelligent technology emerges it will start to create its successors. It will design and fabricate newer and more improved versions of itself. That will free humans from that task.

This freedom, I think, is what scares us. What will we do with ourselves if the machines run everything? I don’t know, but I think we ought to find out. I expect we will start to learn a lot by having these silicon-based entities around. We will be interacting with things that are close enough to being alive that we’ll no longer notice the difference. At some point we’ll have to give in and say that they are alive. There are folks out there that believe the earth is alive, like a gigantic organism. Certainly the biosphere—that veneer of air and water and soil that most things live in—is a living system, with energy and material inputs and outputs. The foundation of that biosphere is crustal rock, that is, silicon-based.

Our silicon creations like phones and computers and televisions have already taught us many things. Or at least enabled us to learn some important lessons about ourselves. I was a boy when the famous blue marble picture of the earth was beamed back from Apollo. The whole notion of “spaceship earth” is an artifact of our ability to finally see ourselves from the outside. Once you see that we are all on this lonely planet in the middle of goddamn nowhere you realize the tenuousness of our biological existence. Now maybe we have some higher-plane existence outside of our biology, lots of people think so, but this one right now in the flesh-and-blood is what matters to me.

We’ve seen our silicon brethren in action on Mars, where the rovers have shown us the landscape and investigated its properties. We can’t inhabit that place until an army of silicon warriors gets there first and preps it for us. This is true for flesh-and-blood types in any extreme environment, like the ocean floor. Fear not, carbon-based life forms. Silicon is entirely natural! Isn’t that good?

Fire and Brimstone

Sulfur is one of a handful of elements that can be found in its native state, like silver, gold, and copper. The ancients knew about brimstone because they didn’t have to extract it—they could literally pick it up off the ground. With the emergence of industrial civilization the demand for sulfur and its products became so great that sulfide minerals became a more important source of sulfur. And since sulfides are the source of metals like iron, lead, and the aforementioned copper, extracting those materials produced sulfur as a by-product. Sulfuric acid, which is produced from sulfur, is among the most widely used of all industrial chemicals, something close to 200 million metric tons are produced annually worldwide. Most of it is used to make fertilizer from phosphate rock which means your food supply depends on sulfur.

In the old days people used fire for everything. They heated their homes, boiled water, and cooked food with fire. They also used fire for manufacturing processes such as smelting ores to obtain needed metals. Today we have electricity for that stuff, but we still get most of our electricity from fire. When we learned to burn coal and other fossil fuels in great quantities in order to generate electricity we moved our fires out of our homes and shops. Now we have special fireplaces (“power plants”) that burn better fuels than wood and burn them more efficiently. It was discovered early on that burning oil and gas created a great deal of pollution. Coal fires, in particular, are very messy. Soon people figured out that among the major pollutants were oxides of sulfur, and it was discovered that those chemicals could be recovered from the gases released by these fires.

Now all modern fire-making places scrub the sulfur from the exhaust. This is now the main source of our sulfur! We burn a hell of lot of fossil fuels and most of them contain significant sulfur and so we have a new, steady supply. What we used to think was a waste stream is now a resource.

That’s the lesson for me. There is no such thing as waste. We live in a material society that creates a lot a stuff. And we throw a lot of that stuff away. The steel, aluminum, and glass industries do a lot of recycling for example, so there’s proof that we can do a better job with our “one-and-done” system. But most things we make we use for a while and then we toss them. Our market economy requires new goods to be continually made and purchased so there is a lot of incentive to dump the old things.

In fact if we don’t keep buying our economy will collapse. Capitalism has to grow. A steady-state is the same thing as a death spiral. So we will continue to burn our great fires and dig up our minerals and build our things so that we can keep selling them and keep buying them. That way we can all see our wealth grow and we can continue to have faith in our economy so that we will borrow and spend and pay back our loans so that we can borrow and spend some more. All those who borrowed money expect to keep earning and all those who loaned money expect to be paid back. And so it goes.

All resources are ultimately finite. We won’t run out any time soon, even with billions of us demanding more everyday. We will however find it harder to get the stuff we need. And it will get more expensive. So we have to do better with what we have. We can’t just suck oil out of the ground and make plastic doohickeys and get rich selling them and then just let them float out in the middle of the Pacific. That plastic is enormously-resource intensive. We can’t allow that energy to be wasted. All things we make must have an end-of-life plan.

The only way we can do that is to re-work this notion of waste. There isn’t anything that is actually waste. Given enough time everything will return to its atomic constituents and get re-shaped by nature into something else. Right now we are counting on nature to take care of our messes for us. But that’s not going to work anymore. We have to see a barrel of oil not as a one-way arrow but as a circle. When we burn oil to make electricity and we recover the sulfur from the fumes that’s thinking like a circle. And that’s just a tiny little thing, imagine what we could do if we really tried.

I once had a nuclear engineer tell me he thought sealing up and burying nuclear waste was a mistake. He viewed the material by-products from the reactors as potential resources and wanted them stored in such a way that we could “get the stuff back when we need it.” I tell you I liked the way that guy thought! Maybe radioactivity makes you squeamish, it does a lot of folks, but if we are going to use it we need that kind of outlook.

God rains fire and brimstone down upon the unfaithful. Throughout the Bible those two things serve a symbol of god’s wrath. Sodom and Gomorrah got the fire and brimstone treatment, for example. These days we harness our fire and brimstone but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back and bite us in the ass. I don’t worry about god’s wrath, I worry we won’t catch on quick enough about this waste stuff. Because we’ll pay just as heavy a price as the S & G crowd did, just not as quickly. Their trip to oblivion was instantaneous, ours will be slow enough that we might not notice.

Winter?

Cold temperatures and snowfall have finally arrived in winter-like amounts. The gods relented at last and spring seems further away than before. But the gods extract their price nonetheless:2018-02-25-snowpack-updateRed is not good. I see a lot of red. Folks in the northern Cascades are looking at a normal year. Northern Idaho is too, and Montana and northern Colorado are awash with snow. But the Oregon and Nevada numbers look bad. (The white of northern California just means there are no SNOTEL reporting sites: most are in the Tahoe region.)

But I don’t need a graph to tell me that. I’ve skied over enough rocks this season, rocks in Wyoming, rocks in Utah, rocks in Oregon, and rocks in California. There’s just not enough snow cover. Which means there’s not enough snow. Which means there won’t be enough water in the summer. Welcome to life in the West.

Alpine Meadows ski area is forecasting almost four feet of snow to fall in the next five days and Mount Shasta Ski Park is calling for almost five. The winter we have all been waiting for is about to bury us in the white stuff. California is supposed to get hammered by the upcoming storm cycle. I like it. This is good. But tomorrow is the last day of February! We’ve only really got a month—March—to get those accumulations up. The snowpack needs to get built when it is still cold and the sun’s angle is still low in the sky. By April and May the storms don’t add enough to the base and what falls doesn’t stick around as long.

But at least we’ve had a taste. I was going crazy with the lack of skiing but after a long road trip to chase the powder and some good days here locally on Mt. Ashland I feel a lot better. My skis look like they’ve hit bottom too many times, which they have, and I expect a few more gouges and scrapes before the lifts stop running. But skis can be repaired, drought-ravaged forests not so much.

Perhaps we’ll get our “Miracle March” and the snowpack will be thick and deep for the dry season. That will mean a lot of winter weather in the next few weeks. It looked like it might not come at all and then it came with a bang and I’ll bet folks will be sick of it in short order. But we need it. We need snow, snow, snow. And not just for us skier-types, we need snow to live and thrive. The water doesn’t come from anywhere else and the taps shut off by the middle of May so if we don’t get it now we’ll come up short. As a lifelong Californian, I’m used to that.

John Wesley Powell told Americans that the 100th meridian divided the watered East from the arid West. No one listened. We moved West and brought everything with us. What we have today is a series of oases in the deserts linked by highways and power lines. In California we have a gigantic plumbing system that captures the mountain snowmelt and ships it to the coasts and valleys where the people live. We’ve created the illusion of a fertile Eden but it is just that—an illusion. It works for now because we’ve got a good plumbing system and plenty of cheap electricity. But when Mother Nature denies us our snow, hence our water, things get a little tight. Our demand for water and energy is not going to slacken and our water sources aren’t going to increase. We have to make do with what we’ve got unless we want nuclear-powered desalinating plants dotting our shores. So put on your mittens and pray for more snow.