Ship of Fools.

Ride on, ride on, in majesty!

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THESE ARE CLIMATE CRIMINALS ! If only they each had two heads, carried pitchforks and sported fiery daemonic horns and tails, or drooled uncontrollably. Read it and weep: Canadian Energy Strategy, July 2015. The Redford Rah Rah engine is out: before and after. Not much serious criticism. No howls of rage. The Editorial Board at the Globe register mild dismay. David Suzuki is in the Times Colonist and repeated on Huffington; but he is too polite by well more than half. Jeff Rubin is not so polite and hits it right on the mark: Canada needs an energy strategy, but not one focused on pipelines. I am moved to go looking for metaphors; fossicking about and stumble over/remember one from many years ago in Philosophy 101: Plato/Socrates in The Republic (section VI) - The Ship of Fools. Just as I'm thinking about all this I read Peter Sale's latest post: Dark Truths; which leads me to revisit Hannah Arendt's 'Men in Dark Times' - one of the few home-remedies for overwhelming despair I have found - and then to look again at some scientific papers on the necessary timing of carbon emission reductions if our civilization and ourselves are going to make it through. Here's a liberated copy of Meinshausen's 2009 paper. At that time a reasonable drop-dead date to achieve a flat Keeling Curve looks like 2024. Not any more. By 2012 Joeri Rogelj (Nature Climate Change: 2020 emissions levels required to limit warming to below 2°C, Joeri Rogelj, David McCollum, Brian O’Neill, & Keywan Riahi, December 2012) is putting it between 2015-2020. There are no liberated copies of this - I got one from the (gracious) author. Various good evidence (including previous papers by James Hansen) and my own proclivities lead me to settle on 2015. In James Hansen's latest: 2°C global warming is highly dangerous (120 pages is daunting, the abstract and conclusions not so much) I don't find any such estimates. Instead it's "Emergency!" When an old Iowa farmer yells "Emergency!" I listen, figguring he means "Now!". There is no shortage of scientific evidence that humanity must stop carbon emissions soonest if we are to survive and the idiot premiers are still planning for pipelines.   DOH! Thirteen crows on a wire: (With apologies to Wallace Stevens.) (Mail, telephone and email coordinates for the thirteen sleveens pictured here can be found below.)

Dear Premiers, That was your big chance - and you blew it. I suppose you're happy, relieved that with the exception of some polite criticism from David Suzuki the 'media' appear to be letting you get away with your ridiculous 'Canadian Energy Strategy'. In the same way that most of the Roman Catholic bureaucracy, in Canada at least, have let Laudato Si' slide into yesterday's news, your bad joke sinks into the murk almost without a bubble. You may even be congratulating yourselves that you did not stand up to be counted as Jorge Bergoglio/Pope Francis did since his encycical has so far "forked no lightning" (to use an image from Dylan Thomas). Be careful though, you may be taken by surprise: consider the athiests who publicly endorse Laudato Si' and are strengthened and emboldened by it; and consider this silly half-baked 'strategy' of yours which places you unequivocally among the do-nothing deniers. You have faithfully followed the lame example of your colleagues Wynne & Couillard and their bogus carbon trading scheme, in presenting politically resonant but useless policies as you play to all sides on the issue. You won't believe me I know, but once upon a time I too made 300+ a year and I fully appreciate the seductiveness of it, the tendency towards insulated & mediated perceptions of what's going on - including inside one's own skin. I understand the happy smiling faces you show for photographs. But one or two generations hence - it won't be long - if your names are remembered at all it may be by your own grandchildren if you have any, who will curse you for not acting to stop climate change and the related environmental ... What do we call it? 'Crisis'? 'Armageddon'? 'End'? ... when it was "in you and in the situation," to do the right thing and you took the easy way out. I know you will not read this yourselves, but perhaps the functionary assigned to scan your correspondence who does look at it will ... understand, and will then just get up and walk away to join the Unis'tot'en Camp - that would be a good start. Be well.

Ride on, ride on, in majesty! Hark! all the tribes Hosanna cry; Thine humble beast pursues his road With palms and scattered garments strowed. Ride on, ride on, in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die! O Christ! Thy triumph now begin Over captive death and conquered sin. Ride on, ride on, in majesty! The wingèd squadrons of the sky Look down with sad and wondering eyes To see the approaching sacrifice. Ride on, ride on, in majesty! Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh; The Father, on His sapphire throne, Awaits His own anointed Son. Ride on, ride on, in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die; Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain, Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign. The 4-note rising scale at the beginning of the second part never fails to thrill me. The sound in this YouTube rendition is not very good, muddy, but you can get a general idea. Choral music is so moving because it is one of the few truly cooperative human activities, and is also difficult to either fake or effectively coerce. In the myth, Christ does not sail into Jerusalem, he rides a donkey; but it is easy enough to mentally hear Leonard Cohen's "Sail on! Sail on! O mighty Ship of State," overlayed. I trust the complexities of a (full-ish, please) 'Compare&Contrast' exercise between the christian crucifixion story and the annihilation of H. sapiens if not all planetary life (including soul as well as body when one annihiates the OED informs me) are not beyond you gentle reader. Lest you be tempted to underestimate the task: Consider this screen grab from the movie version of Tomas Pynchon's 'Inherent Vice' - using the facade of a California mental hospital to evoke Auschwitz, Arbeit macht frei - savouring the horrid and oh so 'inappropriate' comparison, while keeping in mind that American exceptionalism is as invisibly strong in Thomas Pynchon as it is in Bob Dylan ... and John McCain for that matter.

Koordinaten der Scheiße Köpfe: (von West nach Ost und Nord nach Süd)

Yukon Premier Darrell Pasloski: Yukon Government Administration Building 2071 Second Avenue, PO Box 2703 Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Y1A 2C6 867-667-8660 premier@gov.yk.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Northwest Territories Premier Bob McLeod: PO Box 1320 Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, X1A 2L9 867-669-2311 bob_mcleod@gov.nt.ca and in Wikipedia Nunavut Premier Peter Taptuna: Government of Nunavut PO Box 1000 Station 200 Iqaluit, Nunavut, X0A 0H0 867-975-6000, 1-877-212-6438 (toll free) info@gov.nu.ca and a blurb in Wikipedia British Columbia Premier Christy Clark: PO Box 9041 Stn Prov Govt Victoria, British Columbia, V8W 9E1 250-387-1715 premier@gov.bc.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Alberta Premier Rachel Notley: 307 Legislature Building 10800 - 97 Avenue Edmonton, Alberta, T5K 2B6 780 427-2251 premier@gov.ab.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Saskatchewan Premier Brad Wall: 2405 Legislative Drive, Room 226 Regina, Saskatchewan, S4S 0B3 306-778-2429 bradwallmla@sasktel.net & premier@gov.sk.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Manitoba Premier Greg Selinger: 204 Legislative Building 450 Broadway Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3C 0V8 204-945-3714 premier@leg.gov.mb.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Ontario Premier Kathleen Wynne: Queen's Park, Legislative Building Toronto, Ontario, M7A 1A1 416-325-1941 premier@ontario.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Québec Premier Philippe Couillard: Édifice Honoré-Mercier 835, boulevard René-Lévesque Est, 3e étage Québec, G1A 1B4 418-643-5321, 514-873-3411 email interface and the blurb in Wikipedia New Brunswick Premier Brian Gallant: Centennial Building, PO Box 6000 Fredericton, New Brunswick, E3B 5H1 506-453-2144 premier@gnb.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Prince Edward Island Premier Wade MacLauchlan: Fifth Floor South, Shaw Building 95 Rochford Street, PO Box 2000, Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, C1A 7N8 902-368-4400 premier@gov.pe.ca and the blurb in Wikipedia Nova Scotia Premier Stephen McNeil: 7th Floor, One Government Place 1700 Granville Street Halifax, Nova Scotia, B3J 1X5 902-424-6600 premier@novascotia.ca and a blurb in Wikipedia Newfoundland Premier Paul Davis: Confederation Building, East Block PO Box 8700 St. John's, Newfoundland, A1B 4J6 709-729-3570 premier@gov.nl.ca and in Wikipedia		(You know this is Stevie not Shelley right?) I also trust that anyone looking at this already knows that 'the economy' is the reddest of red herrings and is presented for entertainment value only. I know I'll never be forgiven for suggesting any connection between Bill Reid and a Ship of Fools, and yet ...

Sitting on a bench in the park:   One is not permitted to smoke in the Toronto Public Library, so when I'm working there I retire to a nearby park-bench once in a while; and sometimes another smoker comes by and asks for a light. It happened today. An older gent walking his dog stopped, and when he was lit we had a short conversation. He began with a back-handed joke about smoking. I replied that harsh judgements on smokers are disproportionate when one considers the evils of climate change and potential extinction of our species due to fossil fuel addiction. He said, "Oh no, technology will find a solution for all that." I said I'd looked into it and found that the technological remedies don't wash. He said, "But they've discovered other earth-like planets close by. We'll just move over there." I asked how we would ever travel even 100 light-years of distance en masse? We laughed. His dog began to chase another that was passing and off he went. Not long after at the bank I noticed that the teller had henna designs on her hands. I said, "I think it must be delightful to have someone painting such lovely, fine, things on one's hands." She looked at me and smiled: "Yes," she said, "It is." Were any of Arendt, Milman, or Reid able to concretely, seriously, imagine a final end of H. sapiens I wonder? As an intellectual exercise maybe - the proposition for a university debate - but not, I don't think, to savour emotionally. (I don't really mean 'able to', gentle reader, because they might, would probably &c., have accomplished it had it occurred to them.) While Pynchon & Dylan live full on in that space and 'float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.'         Idiot wind, blowing like a circle around my skull,         From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol.         Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth.         You're an idiot, babe. It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.         Idiot wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves.         We're idiots, babe. It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves.

 
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There's a hole in the bucket.

...    Will there be not a trace left behind?

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There's a hole in the bucket dear Liza, dear Liza. There's a hole in the bucket dear Liza, There's a hole. Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry. Fix it. With what should I fix it Dear Liza, dear Liza? With what should I fix it dear Liza, with what? With a straw dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. With a straw dear Henry, dear Henry, With a straw. But the straw is too long Dear Liza, dear Liza. The straw is too long dear Liza, too long. Then cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. Then cut it dear Henry, dear Henry. Cut it! With what shall I cut it Dear Liza, dear Liza? With what shall I cut it dear Liza, with what? With an axe dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. With an axe dear Henry, with an axe. But the axe is too dull Dear Liza, dear Liza. The axe is too dull dear Liza, too dull. Then sharpen it dear Henry, Dear Henry, dear Henry. Then sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry. Sharpen it! With what should I sharpen it Dear Liza, dear Liza? With what should I sharpen it dear Liza, With what? With a stone dear Henry, Dear Henry, dear Henry. With a stone dear Henry, dear Henry, A stone. But the stone is too dry Dear Liza, dear Liza. The stone is too dry, dear Liza, Too dry. Then wet it dear Henry, Dear Henry, dear Henry. Then wet it dear Henry, dear Henry. Wet it. With what should I wet it Dear Liza, dear Liza? With what should I wet it dear Liza, With what? With water dear Henry, Dear Henry, dear Henry. With water dear Henry, dear Henry, With water. But how shall I get it Dear Liza, dear Liza? But how shall I get it dear Liza, With what? In the bucket dear Henry, Dear Henry, dear Henry. In the bucket dear Henry, dear Henry, In the bucket! There's a hole in the bucket dear Liza, dear Liza. There's a hole in the bucket dear Liza. There's a hole. James Naylor Walls 1835-1915. David James 1868-1929. Alton Lee 1902-1981. Elizabeth Anetta 1908-1992. Married 1932. Daughters born 1933 & 1937. Hiroshima August 1945. Concieved November 1945 (a mistake? a slip?). Born July 1946 (a difficult breech, forceps, unforgiven? teenagers resentful at having to care for it until school reopened in September?) Selecting photographs ... to illustrate some notion? make a point? fit a sequence? fit the available space? not leave anyone out? because you have them? because you like them? All of the above plus a mood on a given day? For whom? For strangers on the Internet? a once and future family? one's self? Because ... one is alone and time permits? is long? demands to be filled? To assuage regrets? To create an acceptable fiction? history? identity? A lifetime of believing (like a fool) that home is where they welcome you when you arrive is insufficient to establish the fiction as fact; mistaking & twisting "... have to take you in when you have to go there," (and never noticing the 'have to's in it at all until just now). The women come and go, obviously - so much for eternal love. Maybe the kids will stick? Often bragging on them might have been a warning that they won't. Several possible lessons in this for those who prefer their justice balanced. And when it's done nothing much has been said. Trite, mediocre, self-indulgent twaddle ... ... I suppose. Who knows?
		Hasn't really changed since then. Contrary to public wisdom, what's broken doesn't mend. My friend Vincent disliked computers, email, all of it - digital cameras in particular. Quite rightly. And he managed, almost entirely, to avoid 'em. Gone now and can't hear my praise. I'm no good and never have been. When sea-anemones die (and their cousins, polyps in coral homes) they 'evert' (as I understand it), turn inside out. Having only one orifice I wonder if I can hear a chorus of Mozart's 'Bona Nox' goin' on. I know you're not supposed to reveal such things on the Internet - but I can't remember why? Anyway, there's nothing left here worth stealing. Rein Kuris (who also introduced me to Christopher Alexander) told me that a neighbourhood kid balled up the portrait opposite and threw it in the gutter. Odd sort of story to make up so it could be true. One authentic response then. Dad, Dave Stevenson, Simon Charlie, Pius ... stuck up for me and I betrayed 'em all and more besides.

 

I really am losing steam for this project. Dad's birthday today but he's gone and can't hear me. Wow Grandpa ... are you waking up or going to sleep?                                 I don't remember!

Goneril:             Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;             Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;             Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;             No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;             As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found;             A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.             Beyond all manner of so much I love you. Fool:             Then they for sudden joy did weep, and I for sorrow sung,             That such a king should play bo-peep and go the fools among.                                                     (WIlliam Shakespeare, The Tragedy of King Lear, ~1600)

As Sicknes is the greatest misery, so the greatest misery of sicknes, is solitude; when the infectiousnes of the disease deterrs them who should assist, from comming; even the Phisician dares scarse come. Solitude is a torment which is not threatned in hell it selfe. (John Donne 'Devotions upon Emergent Occasions and seuerall steps in my Sicknes.   Meditation V: Solus adest. The Physician comes.' 1624)

I could've loved you better; didn't mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind.   Of course all, all is forgiven; goes without saying. Afterword: My first wife and I might have attended a concert in Montréal where someone sang, "There'll be one child born in this world to carry on, to carry on," it's possible. Please let this not be interpreted as moribund maudlin mawkishness. Manuel is not my child. She was a skinny teenager more than a decade ago and I might have talked her into it then but I missed my chance. Now, there is simply a (mirandous & stupendious) hopefulness springing from the event; not least because I am included, even from so far away. The good thing about preparing posts a year in advance is that there's lots of time for an Afterword; several even. A kid on the Pike's Peak trail (near Gravenhurst) with his father, he must'a bin four - if the scribbling on the back of the picture is true and it might not be. And I have no idea who he was ... or became.

 
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