Carbon sequestration

Climate change solution? I came across this blog entry from a guy in Wisconsin named Glen Barry who doesn’t seem to have much regard for the carbon sequestration idea. I think he raises some valid concerns, esp. i.e. the complexity of systems that prevent the swift action necessary for sequestration to happen anywhere near soon enough to prevent global catastrophe. Of course, perhaps the complexity of systems prevents the swift response of any sort that might be necessary to avert disaster (a view also shared by Dave Pollard over at How to Save the World — see item #5).

Addendum: I asked my knowledgeable friend (you know, as opposed to all my other friends) John what he thought of this. And while he agreed with some of the points Mr Barry made about biofuels, he felt the cynicism about sequestration was not justified. Technologies are, in many instances, more than proven — they are in fact being used and have been for decades. There are some novel types of sequestration that are ‘new’ but it’s unfair to lump all these technologies together. Plus the blog item’s claims about cost are way out of line.

Wow, I feel like a journalist: fair and balanced!

Praxis reunion

Our impromptu Praxis reunion at Cardero’s from a couple of weeks ago. All because Oliver happened to be in town from Winnipeg for a conference — from two to seven in record time! Clockwise from left: me, Andrew, Roberto, Oliver, Henry (now Jindro), Dean, Eman.

Spinach salad and ahi tuna — just like old times.

Lent

Last.fm. I’m a few days late with this but I think it'll be a good idea. I waste too much visiting the music site, checking my charts, seeing what friends and neighbours are listening to, etc. I’ll keep listening to my iTunes but no more web visits until Easter.

“Small Town”

For Alfred Nicol

What goes around comes around, I tell you.
One minute I'm squinting out the car window,
sure I recognize the mom of one
of my Little Leaguers, 'cept she's kissing some guy
not her husband under the parking lot light
down to the Stop and Shop, so I wave, big-like,
kind of being a jerk, although I wouldn't
ever really say anything about it.
Next thing I know, a siren, flashing red
and blue, some cops waving at me to stop.
I pull over, roll down the window, blinded
by the flashlight. They start to say they saw
me rolling through the stop, then get a whiff —
really, it's just the way the leather jacket
picks up all the smoke and the smell of the booze —
and I'm out of the car, walking the damn straight line,
saying the alphabet way too loud, then standing
on one leg (like I could do that sober)
counting one-mississippi, two-
mississippi with the kid's mom
across the street watching the whole damn thing
or at least part of it, 'cause I looked once
and saw her watching, then I looked again
during the mississippi's, and she was gone.
They let me go with a warning — gotta love 'em.
Maybe I'll give her a call. Probably not.

Midge Goldberg, from Flume Ride © David Roberts Books

Technical support for the codex

The Blonde

I've told this joke so many times so long ago. And now it's a commercial!

“It’s what you do next that matters.”

Is anyone else as addicted to movie trailers? This looks really fun. And I love the line near the end: “People who really care for you don’t mind if you make mistakes. It’s what you do next that matters.”

Saw Miss Potter last night: nice attention to historical detail and a touching story. If I remember correctly, critics were no fan of Renée Zellweger but I thought she made a wonderful Beatrix.

Wanna feel warm and fuzzy about Vancouver?

Then watch this promo video for the host city of the 2010 Olympic and Paralympic games. Sure, it's over the top but there are some very clever juxtapositions of imagery. It’s worth watching. (via Price Tags)

You don’t séance?

Ann Althouse repeats a story from Dick Cavett’s blog (NY Times Select) about Groucho Marx and a medium:

Groucho [Marx] could always go unrecognized in public, thanks to the painted-on mustache he wore onstage. This allowed him to, as he put it “go anywhere and mingle with the common man in all his dreariness.” Back then, there was a prominent trance medium holding forth, and her devoted disciples (sometimes spelled s-u-c-k-e-r-s) solemnly offered to take the man born Julius Marx with them to a séance. Always intellectually curious, Groucho was glad to be asked along — though he told me he was “vaguely insulted” when his new friends solemnly cautioned him to show the proper reverence. “I’m not a clown 24 hours,” he said. “I can also be serious.”

The séance was held in the darkened parlor of some wealthy believer’s apartment. Groucho reported a heavy air of sanctity about the place, “and not entirely from the incense.” Lights were low and the faithful conversed in hushed tones. The medium began to chant unintelligibly, and then to emit a strange humming sound (I can’t help seeing her as Margaret Dumont), eventually achieving her trance state. “I am in touch, I am in touch with the Other Side,” she intoned. “Does anyone have a question?”

Groucho arose and asked, “What is the capital of North Dakota?”

He recalled being chased for several blocks, but escaped injury.

Endless Highway: The Music of The Band

A new (the first?) tribute album to The Band. I’ve yet to buy the physical CD (I'm not sure it’s available as of this writing) but have downloaded the songs. Wow. This is a great compilation. And what makes it truly fabulous is how it reminds how great the original songs are. No one sings like Rick Danko, Richard Manuel, and Levon Helm but these covers are very, very good. Some of the best songwriting in the school of rock. All hail The Band.

Oh, and while I'm at it, check out the latest Hal Willner offering, Rogue's Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs, & Chanteys! Arrgghhh!

“Why I Need the Birds”

When I hear them call
in the morning, before
I am quite awake,
my bed is already traveling
the daily rainbow,
the arc toward evening;
and the birds, leading
their own discreet lives
of hunger and watchfulness,
are with me all the way,
always a little ahead of me
in the long-practiced manner
of unobtrusive guides.

By the time I arrive at evening,
they have just settled down to rest;
already invisible, they are turning
into the dreamwork of trees;
and all of us together —
myself and the purple finches,
the rusty blackbirds,
the ruby cardinals,
and the white-throated sparrows
with their liquid voices —
ride the dark curve of the earth
toward daylight, which they announce
from their high lookouts
before dawn has quite broken for me.

Lisel Mueller, from Alive Together: New and Selected Poems.
© Louisiana State University Press.

Paste Feb 07

New Paste magazine arrived in the mail the morning: The Shins on the cover plus new song on the sampler CD by Lucinda Williams!

A naïve domestic Burgundy