Duff's Passing

Duff Roblin has passed away at 92 years of age. He was a visionary, and I’m pleased to have had the opportunity to acknowledge this in conversation with him.

The Great Wall, the Pyramids and Duff’s Ditch, all visible from space.

An Oil Czar?

No, I’m not talking about Russian dictatorship. President Obama has picked Czars out of the air for almost every discipline imaginable.

Why Czars? No need for messy Congressional vetting. No Senate approvals. Americans love it, but can you name the Oil Czar? With a world-scale rig disaster off New Orleans, the least we could have expected was an Oil Czar.

Instead I hear rumors about a whole Commission that might be named soon. Any day now. My guess? No Oil Czar. Not even a Chairperson. But the Commission should produce a huge chorus of words and accusations.

Sorry about the planet folks, but when the rig disaster news broke, I did predict “words”.

Pipe Dreams - The New Orleans Rig Disaster

BP tells us that it has a four inch “siphon” pipe inserted into the twenty-six inch gushing oil rig pipe off New Orleans.

All other things being equal, a twenty-inch pipe has twenty-five times the capacity of a four-inch pipe. The math is so simple that even a Democrat can do the calculation.

At identical pipe pressures, 5000 bbls per day into the four-inch pipe would suggest 120,000 bbls per day into the ocean. But pipe pressures are not equal; everybody is lying; and conditions deteriorate further with every passing day.

Words win elections, but lies cannot shield the planet from this mega-tragic reality.

Words

I remember the old days when we had an American from Texas in the White House. He was an oil man – a Texas oil man.

Silver tongued? I don’t think so. He was a man of action.

Discredited and trampled? You bet. By a war of words.

The words won out. Shallow and toxic words, like oil on water.

Iceland Unfolds

In mid-March of this year, a fissure erupted in a valley under an ice sheet on the Mid-Atlantic Rift – location – Iceland.

In mid-April the same fissure spewed so much ash that it shut down airports across the neo-Roman Empire.

What of mid-May?

Mid-America is fortunate to have a small Icelandic settlement. Perhaps their mantra should be “Adopt an Icelander”.

Call Grandma – pay her fare. Call your cousin – pay his/her fare. Evacuate the island.

Mother's Day Mourning

On Mother’s Day, I lament for Laura Silsby.

She has no church.

She has no country.

Blind Leading Blind

Strange that the world runs to the U.S. dollar to escape the European mess. American unemployment hovers near 10%, and it’s the “safe haven”?

The U.S. is indeed bankrupt, just like Europe – but in the American case it is an....“Off Balance Sheet” disaster. That’s right. After unsuspecting investors were tapped out, Wall Streets’ finest migrated to the White House. Now they’re taking U.S. taxpayers to the cleaners. The game will not shut down until the taxpayer is insolvent.

Mending Fences

Descendants of the signatories of the U.S. Constitution scramble to build puny fences, while new arrivals spill onto their soil from 2500 loaded jumbo aircraft each and every hour of each and every day.

Freedom was a precious moment in a prior age, lost because we never learn the lessons of history.

Fences? Yes, but the planes are landing as I write. There is no such thing as undefended freedom.