This

[J H S]

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http://www.spiegel.de/international/...-international
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,

[dneal]

???

[J H S]

I mean the link goes to an article of note, my opinion doesn't matter .....sorry

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edit: I awoke from a deep sleep, thinking I was being cryptic on my FPG post, (!), which is not at all my intention.

The link leads to an article in the German news magazine, Der Speigel International that I found interesting.

The article is about the exchange or rewards and punishments between consumers and producers, in the area of 'green' technologies and environmental consciousness.

In my state of Alaska, the traditions of centuries are quickly melting, and I don't mean just culturally. The perma frost is now just frost, the reliable ice cap, late for work more and more. The arctic as a whole is the canary, and I believe with sadness, that a cruel threshold was exceeded several years back, that natures Dr. Strangelove solution is loosed; only moving in a relative time scale hard to see in our fast paced modern world.

The fascinating parts of the article, to me, are the examples of punishments directed to the most environmentally conscious companies, by a headless hydra of a world consumer market who have too many conflicting choices to make effective decisions. Those who step into the light shall be noticed for their faults first, while those quietly pillaging roll faster. The article also gets my note for being even handed and informative, in my view, rather than some studied filler purchased by lobbyist whose only connection to the issue concerns profit and loss.

Jim

[sombrueil]

This.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

I don't know why I thought of it. Huh.

[J H S]

aye, Yeats.
farewell Ezra Pound...

thank you, Sombrueil