Ambulance at Amchitka

Last week, Greenpeace announced some of its activists had done something no one has ever done before. They visited a nuclear test site without permission from the country that conducted the tests. That meant no government officials peering over their shoulders, steering them toward this or away from that.

The Greenpeace activists visited the Cannikin test site on Amchitka Island in the Aleutian chain off Alaska. On November 6, 1971, the U.S. government detonated its largest underground nuclear device there. Cannikin was a five megaton blast – or 385 times as powerful as the bomb dropped at Hiroshima. In 1971, people around the world were protesting this bad idea – this detonation of 385 Hiroshimas underground in the volcanic Pacific Rim. But the U.S. government was not to be denied. “Don’t be alarmed, we know what we’re doing,” they said. You’ve all heard that kind of reassurance before. We were promised no radiation would leak from the site.
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Support Our Troops

I’d like to address my comments to one particular person this week. The rest of you are welcome to listen. I’d like to address my comments to former president George Bush. I don’t know if you’re listening Mr. Bush, or if you even surf the ‘net. I do know you have time on your hands.

I’d like to talk to you about the Persian Gulf War, Mr. Bush, and I’ll tell you up front that I opposed that war. I was one of those people out in Pennsylvania Avenue every week during Desert Shield and every night during Desert Storm. Yes, I was one of those people with the drums that kept you from sleeping. How are you sleeping now?

I keep thinking about the Gulf War because I keep reading about it in the newspaper. The smart weapons, it turns out, were not so smart after all. The Patriot missiles were not as accurate as the army claimed. I’m not surprised. I didn’t believe the Pentagon then and I’m not shocked to find out the generals lied.
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Field of Beans

Remember “Casablanca”? Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman on that wet runway, he’s telling her to get on the plane, he’s telling her that the problems of two people don’t amount to a hill of beans…

What does a hill of beans amount to? It was not a useful standard of measurement in the 1940s, and even less so today. Those beans are not what they used to be.

The hill of beans I have in mind are soybeans. They’re being harvested right now and will be shipped to market next month. This particular hill of soybeans has been genetically altered by the mad scientists at the Monsanto Corporation of St. Louis, Missouri. The tainted beans are called “Roundup Ready” soybeans. By “Roundup Ready,” Monsanto means that the adulterated beans will not be killed by Monsanto’s herbicide “Roundup,” which kills just about every other form of plant life. Monsanto has altered the beans so they can be bathed in poisons throughout the growing season and then delivered to your table.
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The Dow Factor

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. In keeping with the season, I’d like to salute the Dow Chemical Corporation of Midland, Michigan. It can be argued that Dow is responsible for making millions of women aware of breast cancer, in the most direct way possible.

In 1960, one out of 20 American women was diagnosed with breast cancer – today breast cancer strikes one woman in eight. A terrible statistic, but what fault is it of Dow’s? Thirty-six years ago, many women in America would not say the word “breast,” much less conduct a self-examination. Some breast cancer went undiagnosed. Some women didn’t live long enough to get breast cancer then, they died of other causes. All of these things can account for some discrepancy, but these factors combined do not account for the near-epidemic of breast cancer we are now experiencing.
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The Sky Falls in Pieces

A few months ago, I attended a discussion between environmentalists and journalists. The two sides were trading impressions of each other in a Seattle microbrewery.

One of the themes sounded by the journalists was that too often, environmentalists cry “the sky is falling” when in fact, it is not. Some of the journalists allowed that the media shares some blame for this, in that journalists are more likely to respond to such tactics than they are to more reasonable, but less exciting arguments.

At the time I thought, perhaps they have a point. Beyond the windows, it was a beautiful summer evening and as we 40 well scrubbed, well educated white people sat around politely agreeing to disagree, the sky seemed as firm in the heavens as it ever was.
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The Last Time I Had Crabs

Once, and only once, have I ever dined on Alaskan Red King crab. It was long ago, in South Carolina, and someone else was paying for my meal.

But I remember it well – cracking open the legs, sliding the firm flesh into the tubs of melted butter. I violated one of the seven deadly sins that night and it wasn’t vanity. Not with that bib on.

But that’s a memory, and that meal will not come again, at least not any time soon. It’s almost impossible to get Alaskan Red King crab anymore. Although they’re few in number, they’re not extinct. Fishing boats pull in over a quarter million of them every year. And then they throw them over the side, dead.
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