In January’s State of the Union address, George Bush admitted America is addicted to oil. Little did we know how prophetically his words would play out in the months that followed. According to the Department of Energy, the average price of gas in the U.S. the week of Mr. Bush’s speech was $2.33 a gallon. Just before the Labor Day holiday, the average price of gas “dropped” 17 cents a gallon to $2.84.

Not long after Mr. Bush’s declaration of oil addiction, scientists told us 2005 was the warmest year on record, surpassing the standard set in 1998. The record may not hold long, as 2006 is looking to be warmer still. Data from NASA and European satellites indicate the Greenland ice cap is melting – a prime factor in rising sea levels – at a rate three times as fast as in recent years. Not to be outdone in the multiplication department, a study published today in the journal Nature reports that the Siberian permafrost is melting five times faster than was previously thought, releasing tons of carbon dioxide and methane to the atmosphere.

Our domestic supply –stash, perhaps – of oil from the North Slope of Alaska was reduced last month because BP executives didn’t bother to invest in basic infrastructure for their operations in that most fragile environment. North Slope managers, under pressure from corporate to keep costs down – even after repeated warnings from regulators – neglected maintenance to the point where August’s pipeline failure is now blamed on “microbe dung.”

Today, BP’s Richard Woollam, the guy who was supposed to keep the pipe from leaking, refused to testify before Congress, invoking his Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination. Meanwhile, the oil companies, the pushers in this analogy of addiction, are stumping to open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to more drilling, asking Americans to trust them because they have such a good record. (Did I mention that all but two miles of the Alaska pipeline’s 800-mile length is over permafrost, the stuff that’s melting five times faster than we thought?)
Continue reading »

Today’s New York Times has a story about the ongoing, sporadically violent standoff in the city of Oaxaca, Mexico between citizens and the state government. Oaxaca (pronounced wa-HA-ca), capital of the state of the same name, is in southern Mexico. I spent 10 days there last winter, visiting Adrienne, who was there for two months.

Oaxaca is a colonial city, with churches and palaces dating to the Spanish conquest of the early 16th century. For most of the last 500 years, Oaxaca’s been a backwater, producing red dye and sisal cordage. In the past 50 years, the area has become famous for its handcrafts and artists began moving to the area. The city took on a bohemian aspect and began attracting tourists.

In recent years, Oaxaca has become a popular spot for wealthy Mexicans to build vacation homes. As the tall, pale ricos moved in, the short, brown pobres were pushed out. The zocalo, the city’s central square was once full of indios selling crafts and food. By last winter, it had been cleaned up. New benches had been installed. Tourists could sit in the restaurants lining the zocalo on warm evenings and listen to a brass band playing in the gazebo. One evening the band was running through the John Philip Sousa repertoire, perhaps to celebrate the completion of the conquest. Pity, too. Oaxaca has a tradition of beautiful brass band music; I was hoping to hear some.
Continue reading »

Sunday’s local newspaper reported that gasoline sales in Vermont were 13 percent below prediction in February of this year and almost 15 percent low for May. I have no theories on the May swoon, aside from the toll continued high prices are having on us all, but I’m reasonably sure the February dip was due to our mild winter. Less snow, fewer skiers coming to Vermont and, more significantly from a gas vendor’s view, fewer people riding snow machines through the woods. Burn enough gas, change the climate and soon you can’t burn gas riding through snowy forests. I don’t know if that’s poetic justice, but there is a certain symmetry.

As I digested that news along with my eggs, crude oil was seeping into the North Slope of Alaska from a corroded transit pipe owned – and neglected – by British Petroleum (BP).

Perhaps you’ve seen BP’s rebranded logo and “Beyond Petroleum” catchphrase. They spent $100 million on the rebranding in 2000, (which is $17 million more than they spent on renewable energy the year before).

The ads are all yellow and green and friendly. The truth is different; people familiar with BP’s record refer to the corporation as “Biggest Polluter.” The most polluting industrial facility in the United States? The BP refinery in Texas City, TX. Foul emissions from the plant rose by 300 percent between 2003 and 2004 (well after BP started its “eco-friendly” charade). Things didn’t get any better in 2005, when 15 workers died in an explosion. Three hundred health and safety violations were found after that incident. In 2006, the EPA found BP Texas City was fudging its reporting on pollutants. Nice company, huh?
Continue reading »

Phyllis Diller says that even into her late 30s, she didn’t understand the significance of a solitary, upturned middle finger. “On the other hand,” she said, “at the time I didn’t know how to drive.”

There are moments in all of our lives as drivers when a jerk cuts us off in traffic or runs a stop sign, but through a magical piece of traffic happenstance, we wind up in front of him (or, increasingly, her). We get to stare, smile and if we’re still feeling angry enough, very slowly flip the bird, while the jerk has to sit there and take it. Sitting in traffic is unpleasant enough without a jackass doing something stupid, so we feel justified venting at one who deserves it. I hope most of us are mature enough to resist the bird-flip temptation, or least mature enough to feel sheepish later if we indulged.

Regardless of the visceral satisfaction flipping the bird may bring, it really doesn’t do any good. I doubt any aggressive drivers have reformed because someone (or several someones) flipped them off. (“Hmmm, that’s the third one this week. Maybe I should take a look at my driving habits.”)
Continue reading »