Elon Musk is building ships to go to Mars. Saw this in Lo and Behold, the great Herzog movie about the Tech revolution and its effect for better or worse on humankind. A part of this movie was Musk, showing his plans. mars. He was grim. I wondered, a bit paranoid? But, since he's a genius, I thought he might know some things I don't. T read some grim facts about climate change.
They are simple and measurable. No mystery here.
1. Carbon emissions from fossil fuels are causing a rise in temperatures.
2. Global warming is happening at a faster rate than was anticipated by scientists.
3.The three worst polluters in the world are the U.S., China, and India
4. After much a treaty was finally concluded with minimum emissions standards
so that the people can continue to live on this planet.
5. The U.S. government approved the Climate Accords.
6. The emissions standards are now to be implemented in the U.S.
7. The agreement was that no country could pull out, until after 4 years.
The zeal to de-regulate business so it can better make more money for owners,
(tends to trickle up, not down) is a matter of opinion. Yet disregarding the Emissions
Standards in this time, means your grandkids, may be able to book a seat on Musk's
ships, if wealthy or just die, baked in an unhabitable Earth.
In my opinion whatever is done in 4 years that proves a mistake, can be undone, but
not the Climate Accords Agreement, the Emissions Standards. The zeal of one administration can damn the planet for all people, even your grandkids.
Debating the science is not the point. There is no time. My poem on this below, if you feel like reading. This is the major issue of our time. If you want to do something, this is worth teach-ins across the country, letters, marches whatever can raise consciousness.
THE FIRE MONKEY YEAR 2016
When nonspring hop skips past non-winter,
Suddenly stopped short for 10 degrees,
we are unused to cold. Denial in snowed minds.
Climate change? El Nino? Farmer’s Almanac
predicted Southern comfort.
Yet what cosmic lint enshrouds
NASA’s in. There’s water on Mars.
Virgin Air’s got the Elite
Colonies. Science fact or
Is the Earth’s core solid, hollowed out,
inhabited by humanoids shy of light?
We live with low-lying slow moving masses of gray
clouds. Glimpses of true blue—
deepen past our midnight as
rockets streak through cosmic muck.
Money, sex, comfort, technology, titiilations of infinite
minds. Finite is the unhidden truth, the stilling pulse
of a still living planet in
the Year of the Fire Monkey.
All hail our evolved primate selves, Innovative and refined.
Original, forward thinking, we pursue Excellence.
compressed in prehistoric swamps.
Dinosaurs sucked into bog.
Humans smother snug as bugs
in China’s public square, Surrounded by
impenetrable yellow smog, people watch a
movie screen showing a lost blue sky
In New York on a PATH screen are scenes of
previous year’s lovely snow-dusted streets.
Watched by globally warmed passengers
waiting their infinite now.
But wait! Maybe it is El Nino?
Wherefore the Zen Circle, the Golden Mean
to restore outsiders to the source?
Is reclamation yet improbably possible?
Plant trees, when we need instant rain forests?
Clean oceans? Rescue whales mysteriously beached?
Porpoises cannot escape mesh. Hope more money's
spent on alternative than fossil fuels? Hope
our children’s children can discover
yearn for beauty without end?
The big-brained homo sapien, like primate kin,
fights and kills for territory, food, mates. Yet
no other animal knowingly fouls its habitat.
Full of inquiry, enterprise, appreciation of “perfection,”
Wardens of Paradise Lost.
Will we ever gaze once more with astronaut eyes at
the truly awesome breathing world?
Our Earth or in another galaxy
filled with the lucky ones not left behind?
The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches
To men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all.
This is the way the world ends? Not with a whimper but a bang?—T.S. Elliott
“Commitment is an act, not a word.—J.P. Sartre