Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
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Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I love my life.
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Yep. We love our home.
at 11:55 AM
Some of us Eastern Bluebirds raise our babies near the Gulf of Mexico, and a whole lot more of us winter down there or at least pass through during migration. We love that place. And we have to protect it! Unfortunately, bluebirds can't reduce our electricity usage, because DUH--we're already down to zero. So we need humans to do this for us.
How did Americans defeat the Nazis and the nation that attacked us at Pearl Harbor? Not by thinking, "Oh, no! There's nothing we can do!" We rolled up our sleeves and got to work. Our president reminded us not to be afraid, made us sacrifice (rationing, shortages of a lot of cool stuff like nylon stockings), and fought against profiteering corporations. Let's get back into that mindset! Let's use electricity as if it were a finite and precious resource, not as if it were water. Oh, wait--that, too, is a finite and precious resource. Oh, man--we've got a big job ahead of us!
at 6:56 AM
(This is based on the 2008 total of 228,182,000 adults in America. Of course, no matter how hard some people try to save energy, others are going to be pigs. A total of about 250,000 Hummers were sold between 2002 and 2008, and I presume people who bought those don't care about either birds or people in the Gulf of Mexico enough to cut back their personal oil usage. But still. Even if 3,182,000 "adults" refused to save one gallon of gas a week, we'd still reach a billion gallons saved every month. Just think if we could double, or triple, or quadruple that!)
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Tuesday, June 15, 2010
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by Dylan Thomas
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
at 4:25 PM
include us in their nearly 600-page spill response plan.
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Monday, June 14, 2010
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Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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