EarthSourceMedia

Dance to the Apocalypse 

by joey racano

 

EarthSourceMedia Reports for November 18th, 2009

‘From on high four horseman came,

White, black, red, ash, with manes of flame

No time for cry, remorse, or shame,

Teeth did gnash; we were all to blame’

Dance to the Apocalypse

Los Osos, California, November, 2009

Not a good sign, I thought. A snicket in the San Luis Obispo Tribune said, ‘Families living downwind from Diablo Canyon Nuclear Plant can pick up two free doses of ‘KI’, Potassium Iodide –a product called ‘’ThyroSafe‘. I enjoy the feeble public relations attempts by those in the mushroom cloud business. It’s hard to put a smiley face on plutonium that stays dangerous for a half-million years- and harder still to convince us they’ll have a local branch open in AD 502009.

Further south, the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station goes by the acronym ‘S.O.N.G.S.’. Quite a song- we’ll be lulled to sleep as plutonium leaches into the drinking water. On the Central Coast of California, I live dangerously close to the Diablo Plant, once calling it the ‘Devil Canyon Atomic Reactor‘ during a Nuclear Regulatory Commission meeting. Protecting his friends in industry, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger recently vetoed a bill to mandate seismic testing of an earthquake fault found just offshore here. Instead of ‘ThyroSafe‘, maybe they should be handing out muscle relaxers.

New York, June, 2185

Our jeans were soaked from crawling in wet grass, but Central Park was close and we had to stay low. A small band of third-generation survivors trying to eek out a living in the Post Apocalyptic World, we had come in search of food and clean element. Environmental contamination left over from the industrial age had poisoned the air and water so badly that filters on our backs were the only thing between us and death. We needed a fresh element every six months, for our personal air filters, and for the water filter we each took turns carrying. Sometimes we just washed our elements, but that caused a mental slowdown that could get you killed. When your element was dirty, everybody suffered.

Manhattan Island hadn’t seen real electricity in over 100 years, but background radiation levels had the LED lights glowing like kaleidoscopes in the moist evening air. This wasn’t my first trip to New York, but it was for the others, and traveling to the core -what was left of the ‘big apple’- was always a dangerous proposition.

A bloody moon rose over the fog as someone showed a flat hand, the universal signal for shut the fuck up. There were voices up ahead, the first we’d heard other than our own for almost a year. That could mean help, or it could mean trouble, and we made our approach low, slow, and silent.

California, November, 2009

I am having a hard time getting ‘up’ for the world conference on climate change soon to be held in Copenhagen. President Obama has said Americans shouldn’t expect a binding agreement among nations. Not even the ‘Cap and Trade’ rouse, that wouldn’t slow the climate change locomotive anyway. It’s not as if the signs aren’t all there. Alarms bells are ringing, yellow lights are flashing and red flags are waving! In the 12 years since the 1997 climate talks at Kyoto, oceans have risen an inch and a half, droughts and fires are more severe, and everything from bears to butterflies to pine forests are in deep trouble. Temperatures for the last 12 years are 0.4 degrees warmer than for the 12 years before. With all signs pointing toward doomsday, it occurs to me we can’t wait for our leaders to take the dynamic actions that might save us. We as individuals have to make all the right moves, right now. Sounds far-fetched, but it’s that or die.

Manhattan, 2185

A rusty ‘71^st Street’ sign jutted from the grass, confirming our position as old Central Park. Our stealthy band peered from the underbrush onto a surreal scene of people in tattered clothing gathered around a circular, glowing monument. We were about to reveal ourselves when shots rang out in the distance. causing the gray-clad group to scatter. Abandoning their ritual, they ran into the brush and disappeared in the direction of the commotion. Wasting no time, we emerged from our hiding places for a closer look. The large round monument stood in a clearing, basking in the glow of candles. A single word in old American was scrawled across its center, saying: ‘IMAGINE’. But none of us were able to imagine much more than gathering canned goods left strewn about and staying alive in the P.A.W. We snuffed and stowed all the candles but one, then retreated back to the cover of the underbrush.

Imagine

California, 2009

Ever connect with a story a little too much? I recently did, with a story about the new green technologies being designed to save us from destruction wrought by the old technologies. In this case, the story was about how fake trees can be manufactured to sequester CO2 from the atmosphere. Notice the lack of emphasis on slowing or stopping our habit of generating CO2, but rather mitigating its effects through sequestration. Mitigation is not a solution, but the problem. Take the ‘Clean Coal’ ruse for instance- why capture CO2 from burning coal and pump it into the ground when it’s already in the ground? The ocean operated as an efficient sink for our industrial emissions from the 1950’s until the 1980’s. However, those emissions began slowly changing the ocean’s chemistry, turning it acidic. That acidification not only started a world-wide die off of coral reefs, but greatly diminished the ocean’s ability to capture CO2 (Oceans’ Absorption of Fuel Emissions Is Slowing, Study Suggests, New York Times Thursday, November 19th, 2009). Unfortunately, our response to the crisis is to ignore the problem, -the burning of fossil fuels- preferring instead to focus on searching for new methods of CO2 capture and sequestration. This is all part of the so-called ‘green’ technologies, or what I refer to as the cottage industries of the apocalypse.   

The whole idea of portraying industrial technologies as green is silly. You can’t build new single family homes and call them green, even if they use solar energy, gray water irrigation systems and low flush toilets. There’s nothing green about new development- it destroys habitat, sticks another straw into an already overburdened aquifer, and does it all just so municipalities –funded by developers fees- can continue operations.

If you think we had it bad because we never got to see our land the way Daniel Boone saw it, imagine a future where the kids of tomorrow walk down the street thinking fake trees are the norm! And the artist’s rendition was scary- they look like the arms of a giant egg beater. They may sequester CO2, but birds won’t nest in them, I wouldn’t read a book under one of them, and it just isn’t a tree, right Mr. Bluebird? And watch out for those propellers!

 

 fake trees?

Manhattan, 2185

Traveling by cover of night, we crossed into the once-bustling metropolis of New York City. Verdant streets led us to the industrial district, where old growth trees of unknown species grew straight, thick and tall. Faded graffiti covered a crumbling wall, where someone long ago had scrawled, ‘ROOTS WILL CRACK THE CONCRETE EARTH’. It turned out to have been quite prophetic. Vegetation had indeed cracked through the asphalt. Seeds became plants, and plants became trees, revealing the secret to the success of local post-apocalyptic survivors. The cracked pavement revealed fertile and uncontaminated soils long hidden beneath, now nurturing hidden gardens that lay cultivated between the trees. We helped ourselves, filling our pockets with late-season squash, kale and corn, making sure to leave room for the precious element we still hoped to find. We searched amid the rows of red-brick ruins, and one contained what we had come for. High above the rubble and still clinging to life by a single rusted chain, a sign said: ‘Best-pirator Corp.’.

Leaving two Guards posted outside, I led the Scouts in. Precious minutes passed as we waited for our eyes to adjust. Crouching silently in the inky blackness, blood pounded in our temples like the war drums of Armageddon. We were soon able to make out the torpedo-like shapes strewn wildly about -element! Dropping to one knee, we made a quick, on-the-spot first change. With a single breath, our minds cleared and our night-vision sharpened. We took all we could carry to the guards outside, and went back in for more. By the time we emerged, the Guards had changed their elements and were working on our water tank. We managed a quick gulp of fresh water and made for the brush. Locals wouldn’t take kindly to competition, and with the human gene pool dangerously thin, we didn’t want to kill anyone.

Having found what we came for, it was time to move south. Deep South.  

 California, 2009

Paranoia strikes deep

Into your heart it will creep

It starts when you’re always afraid

Step out of line and the man comes and takes you away

-Richie Havens

America is a land of legacy. One of those legacies is the Star Spangled Banner. Written by Francis Scott Key, it was inspired by a giant American flag at Fort Sumter after a night of being bombarded by the British in 1861. By the dawns early light, our flag was still there, and so was the American dream of freedom.

Another legacy is the long-lasting environmental damage from the cold war. Several decades of mindless paranoia, nuclear testing, and defense industry profits left a radioactive mess, -staggering in scope- deep under the majestic landscape of Nevada (Nuclear Scars: Tainted water runs beneath Nevada desert, LA Times, November 13^th, 2009). Sheer numbers tell the whole story:

By U.S. Energy Department estimates, 921 nuclear tests over a 41-year period ending in 1992, contaminated 1.6 trillion gallons of water with 300 million curies of radiation. That is enough radioactive water to fill a lake 25 feet deep, a mile wide and 300 miles long. Because the test site was on higher ground than surrounding areas, the water is migrating about 18 feet per year, and withdrawing groundwater from surrounding areas will increase that speed. With development rampant and water at a premium, that is sure to happen. Russia didn’t get us, but the radioactivity might. In any case, the Energy Department says there are no plans for a cleanup.

New Jersey, 2185

We knew where we were headed, but argued about how to get there. The Scouts wanted to continue on foot, the Guards thought it would be best to take a boat south along the coast. I suggested we travel west into Ohio and raft the river southward, entering Georgia from the Northwest.  Our bands final destination was a hilltop in the Northeast corner of Georgia. Rafting in would mean having to cross the State on foot, dealing with Radigators, snakes and whatever else had mutated. The only good thing about Radigators is they’re easy to see, but being at the top of the food chain, they carry enormous amounts of radiation. You can’t eat them anymore- but they can still eat you.

In the end, we decided to travel South on foot, using an old Indian trail. It was a straight shot through heavy forest and would safely take us as far as D.C. The coast would be too dangerous, where warm ocean waters could trigger lightning. It was always best to travel inland and only when the weather was cold. Summer brought high temperatures and the heat lightning that set off lightstorms.  Lightstorms were a legacy of global warming. Rising temperatures eventually reached a threshold, causing the sea floor to release large quantities of methane gas it had long held captive. Upwellings transported the gas to the surface, where it lay as mist on the water. A lightning strike ignites the methane, like the Fuel-air explosives of the 21^st century, and everything is incinerated for miles. Not a bug, not a blade of grass survives.

We had the exact coordinates of our destination: 34.2 degrees North latitude, 82.9 degrees West longitude. That information came from a mysterious fellow we met at a shelter in the Appalachians during the last light storm. Until then, we really had no hope for the future. He walked right in out of the lightstorm- said he was some kind of a priest.

California, 2009

President Obama has expressed frustration and dwindling patience with Iran’s rapidly maturing nuclear program. The United States speaks with some authority on the subject, being the only nation on Earth to use nuclear weapons on another country- having done so twice.  

Meanwhile, Strategic Command Commander General Kevin Chilton urged the United States to invest in a generation of newer, more powerful nuclear weapons during a speech on November 20^th, at the Air Force Association Conference in Los Angeles.

With Pakistan, India, Russia, China, the United States, Israel, and North Korea all possessing nuclear weapons, perhaps the U.S. should spend less time condemning the fledgling Iranian nuclear program and pay more attention to Israel, a volatile country right next door that has 400 nuclear bombs, no nuclear treaty, and a prevailing belief among its people that they have been chosen by God.

Maryland, 2185

The blood of our scouts helped us pick up the Indian trail along a dry creek bed in the Prince George’s region of Maryland. That was Indian blood of course; it ran through their veins. They were both descended of the Delaware, who lived along the shores of the Delaware River in New Jersey.  They still spoke a form of Algonquian, and communicated only by sign language. They possessed scouting skills second to none, were expert trackers, and could be counted on to help us avoid trouble. The trail was clear and fast, the forest floor padded and silent. We whispered through the woods like elves, breaking no branches and making no sound.

A delicious irony was the Post Apocalyptic World men had created. The trees were many and diverse, the deer large and abundant. From our verdant footpath, we were seeing the area much as it had been a thousand years before, when men killed only to live, rather than living only to kill. The trees were flush with apples and berries, the forest floor a carpet of purple sorrel. We ate on the move, never stopped for long, and barely even slowed down. This was the land of the Pascataway, the original tribe of the Chesapeake who left their ancestral hunting grounds rather than convert to Christianity when Lord Calvert landed in 1634. They probably used this trail for hundreds of years, for the same reason the deer did- it was a fast, safe and secret way to travel from one side of the region to the other.

We emerged into bright sunshine and wind on a sand dune overlooking a shallow estuary that used to be Chesapeake Bay. Sloshing through brackish water made the going slower, but the view was worth it. We left the wet sand behind by late afternoon, and soon stood on the shore of the Potomac, amid the ruins of America’s former capitol.  A stone structure poked from the hard mud about knee-high. With Guards posted in front and behind, I hacked thick, stubborn vines away until the stone was freed from its long, sandy incarceration. We had stumbled upon the Franklin Delano Roosevelt National Monument, a relic of yet another self-important empire crumpled to dust amid a backdrop of stars. The words of the 32nd President of the United States chiseled into the stone were testament to a moment of lucidity during an age of madness:

MEN AND NATURE MUST WORK HAND IN HAND. THE THROWING OUT OF BALANCE OF THE RESOURCES OF NATURE THROWS OUT OF BALANCE ALSO THE LIVES OF MEN.

We took it under advisement over glowing embers and an iron pot of hot broth.

FDR Monument

Two years earlier, Appalachia, 2183

A searing wind howled outside the shelter, whistling through lifeless canyons. Flashes of light were faintly visible through leaden walls 3 feet thick, underscoring the severity of the worst lightstorm in years. It seemed a shame to squander the opportunity of not having to breathe through a Best-pirator. What should have been a brief moment’s respite, was nothing less than sheer terror. The temperature outside was two thousand degrees with higher spikes. The Appalachian ridgelines were holding methane mist like a canyon traps fireplace smoke. The lightning struck only occasionally, and several times we thought it was over. The impatient among us carelessly left the shelter too soon, and a half dozen so far had saved their families the trouble of cremation.

Perhaps thirty of us lay prone on the floor of the ancient one-room fallout shelter built just prior to the final act of the industrial revolution. Legend has it that it all came down to a glitch on a NORAD computer screen and the rest is post-history. Few were the maps marking the exact locations of these shelters, strewn about the P.A.W. I certainly didn’t have one; only a chance meeting with an extraordinary stranger alerted me to its existence.  Most were destroyed by wanderers who committed them to memory. Once the lightstorms begin, the occupants don’t open the door unless it’s to let some poor soul out. There are plenty of filters inside, but little food or water, and everyone stays quite still to conserve energy.

It seemed such a bleak existence for so once-great a race. Dressed in gray, with our breathing and drinking limited to what could be had through a filter, dodging horrific post-natural weather events, hoarding supplies and then scrounging for more. There were no children. Most of our bodies were so saturated with emergent contaminants that babies born alive were always badly deformed.

And just when we thought it was the end, this strange traveler arrived to say it was only the beginning.

Lightning hadn’t struck for over an hour, and we thought we’d heard the sound of geese passing high above. “Let me out”, demanded a man brandishing some sort of explosive device- “Let me out-now!” He got no argument and the heavy doors were rolled aside, revealing a barren world where heated rocks created a shimmer on the horizon. The man exited with not a backward glance and the doors were begun to roll back into place. As they hurtled the final inch toward each other, they slammed shut on the end of a walking pole, thrust between them at the last instant! “Hold,” came a voice from outside. The doors automatically bounced back open, and the man who had left came stumbling back in, with no small amount of help from the dusty jack-boot of a tall, sullen-eyed stranger.

“Close!” he shouted after entry, and the mighty doors rolled closed once again, this time tightly.

“Who dares?” growled the stumbling man, “Who-“

“I dare!” returned the stranger, motioning him to be seated. Angry at his forced return, the man threw his explosives aside and went for the stranger’s throat, snarling and spitting.  Then came the loudest of reports outside- lightning, followed by the rolling, rumbling thunder of another lightstorm. With wide eyes, the man released his grip and slid down the stranger’s body, finally kneeling at his feet. “I’ll not harm he who saved my life”, he spoke.

 “Rise,” said the stranger, motioning once again for all to be seated. As the lights of doom flashed outside and the stench of burning gases wafted through the shelter, the tall man stood before us staff in hand, relating a story that brought laughter to some, disbelief to others- and hope to five of us.

 He said his name was Robert C. Christian, and he was a priest. Not a priest in the archaic sense. He was the last of an order of time-guides known as the Avatale. With one foot in Earth’s far future and one in its remote past, Avatale were like custodians, charged with keeping a planet’s history moving toward the balance sought by the Universe. They did so by burrowing through space time, avoiding the restrictions of causality. “Avatale behave no differently than sub atomic particles” he said, “but rather than ponder the mechanics, let us concentrate on the message.”

Most of the shelters occupants had written the stranger off as a travel weary madman with a messiah complex, but five of us sat close, cross legged and hungry for any glimmer of hope. Hell, we were all travel weary madmen.

“What is that message?” asked one of the group that would come to be our small band of travelers.

“That you are not meant to be roaches, living in darkness and scattering in light. You are the stuff of stars, each thought, a quasar, every heartbeat in rhythm with the pulsar.”

I looked at the floor, trying to feeling more like a star and less like a refugee-in-rags. “Where did-“

“Where did it all go wrong?” he finished for me. “You sought heaven even as you trampled one beneath your feet. You gazed outward for meaning, when meaning resides only within. Your search for heavenly perfection was futile, for it was there you always did dwell.”

The simple explanation the Avatale offered up resonated with our small group, even if the majority listened with closed ears, saw with closed eyes and lay silent. We asked what there was that such a small number of people could do to heal the world.

“It is not for such as you to heal a planet, with more waters than you could swim, more ground than you could stride. Yours is to mend a relationship with a planet, and your own spirit- to build a new society on a different path with a higher purpose.”

“How do we rebuild without following our fathers over a precipice?” it was asked.

“Journey southward to the land of rocks. At 34.2 degrees north latitude, 82.9 degrees west longitude, great granite walls sit on a hilltop capped with stone. There you shall find guides to the new world you seek.”

That was the last time we ever saw the Avatale- but our band of adventurers was born and we had a mission, coordinates, -and hope.

Chesapeake Bay, Maryland, 2185

‘Great birds fly over Chesapeake Bay, where a new world dawns every month of May

Five brave men in two canoes, -which tomorrow will they choose?

To read the wisdom in the stones, that rise above thy fathers bones,

a sacred journey you must make, where Savannah River meets Keeowee Lake’

 

Dance to the Apocalypse, ‘End of the Beginning’

We stood on the shore of the Potomac gazing toward Chesapeake Bay. From this point on, travel was best done by river. I was sure FDR, -whoever he was- would understand if we felled one of the tall White Birches standing guard over his monument, if for a good cause. And rebuilding a world was good cause. We lay the tree down like an Indian bride, and removed her bark the same way. The scouts performed an age-old magic show, turning the white bark inside out, lacing it up with sweet grass and patching the rough spots with pitch the rest of us had gone about collecting. In a day, we had two Birch Bark Algonquin canoes. They were laced up tight, looking for all the world like a skillfully crafted pair of moccasins. We loaded what supplies we had and walked them to deeper water at sunrise. By the time the sun was straight overhead, it was 4 miles to shore on either side, with not a ripple to be seen. The quiet was broken only by the occasional call of big birds high overhead, or the splash of fish playing tag in the estuary. This was the way to travel.

The weather held fast as we made our way through the Chesapeake system, which finally left us, like babes in a basket, on the porch of the sometimes hostile Atlantic Ocean. Many were the nights we came to shore, backs aching, to steal a bit of slumber, uninterrupted by salt water mosquitoes and the constant rolling of the water. Lightstorms were always a threat. When the opportunity presented itself, we navigated inland on nameless waterways, where Spanish moss and sometimes snakes decorated overhanging limbs.

A hundred times we stumbled ashore, having run out of creek. And a hundred times we wore those canoes like long hats, carrying them through thickets, searching for the next waterway. We came out of the woods into a great inland expanse of water, and I could tell it was not of nature, but a thing of man. An army of trees pressed to the edge of the waters entire wide expanse, with nary a reed, sedge, bamboo or papyrus to be seen. This was a reservoir, fed by rivers whose swollen confluence lay inundated deep below. But those submerged rivers were only side streets that merged with the main highway. We had found her- the Savannah River.    

South Carolina 2186

Our canoes cut swiftly and quietly through the clear moving waters of the Savannah. Her banks were lined with cypress and willow, and she wore a bright blue sky above. The scouts rowed with their heads down, speaking back in Algonquin to the Cherokee spirits they heard calling to them from the banks. We were being warned, they signed to me- warned of great fireflies living beneath the water. These fireflies grew angry in the summer months when the river was at her lowest level and we might know the angry beasts when we came between two white waters. I took this to mean there was a danger, and decided if we saw a second set of rapids, it would be a time for portage. I cupped my hands and blew the call of the owl to the Guards up ahead, who were already entering white water. They looked back and nodded, signaling they understood some danger may be about. We kept one eye ahead, and one eye on the swift water.

 An hour later all turbulence subsided as we came upon the confluence of yet two more ancient rivers, drowned far below. The sky began to paint the river a late-afternoon turquoise, creating a lovely, but opaque surface. Dusk rode in on a chilly breeze, and though white water could not be seen ahead, it could be heard.  

We stopped rowing the canoes and sat up alert. Without turning, the scout up front signaled a flat hand, but we were already paying acute attention to the strange submarine lights flashing before us that were getting brighter by the second. I felt the canoe vibrate on my buttocks and saw a world of fear in my own reflection as I peered hard through the water beneath us. We were at the confluence of the Keeowee and Little Rivers, where the Oconee Nuclear Power Stations’ three reactors still sat humming nearly three hundred feet below. No one had ever shut them down! Keeping our paddles tilted upward, we let the fast moving water carry us over the ethereal maelstrom that was surely releasing radiation. Schools of fish moved through broad beams of light emanating from the deep. The entire lake pulsated to the soulless rhythm of doomsday machinery- a satanic concert in a watery hell, being conducted by long dead energy industry officials, still assuring the ghosts of a drowned city that everything was under control, and going to be fine.

The deep clear water was hot to the touch, and many strange life forms darted about, most notably a large Octofish that swam up alongside the canoe. Octofish were an example of mutants common to the new American southeast, most being large predators. A descendant of the sturgeon, these animals were as intelligent as they were dangerous. They used bioluminescence to communicate in a complex language of lights and colors.

Each canoe was 9 feet long and the Octofish was longer still, sizing us up with bowling ball eyes. Backlit from below, it switched off for a moment, allowing itself to become a long-tentacled silhouette. It faded back in as a golden color, its transparent body causing the internal organs to look like bugs trapped in amber. In a mesmerizing display, it went completely clear, then amber, then a rich blue, then green, and finally a very menacing red, when the canoe did not respond in kind. An attack was imminent and we began to poke at it with our paddles. It was like attacking a dragon with a fly swatter. A second creature joined in and was attacked by the first, allowing us time to put our paddles to better use. Aided by the evening breeze at our backs, we were soon across the lake and the otherworldly humming began to fade into the distance. Anxious to leave the bizarre nightmare behind us, we paddled in unison until we reached the second rapids, which led us around a bend and back onto the Savannah River.     

Huntington Beach, California, 1997

I parked the old ’75 Chevy Titan motor home out front of the Post Office just long enough to run in and get my mail from PO Box 373. But before taking off, I decided to make two stops in one, and grabbed a hot cup of java at the Starbucks on Main Street. Returning to the RV, I fumbled through my pockets for my keys and discovered they were nowhere to be found. I searched the Post Office, under the seats of the rig, and even went across the street to check Starbucks, but dammit- never did find those keys. Out came the locksmith guy who charged me an arm and a leg to do it, but I was soon on my merry way, with a whole new set of keys for a whole new ignition. I was getting coffee the next morning when someone handed me the old key set. They were found during an after-hours mopping. I must have dropped them and kicked them under the counter.  

Sylvania Georgia, 1958

One crisp February evening in 1958, Major Howard Richardson was piloting a B-47 Stratojet Bomber off the coast of Georgia at 36,000 feet. The jet was carrying an MK-15 Thermonuclear Hydrogen Bomb, 100 times more powerful than the A-Bomb that destroyed Hiroshima. What was supposed to be a routine night-training mission turned anomalous when the bomber collided with an F-86 Saberjet, destroying the fighter plane, and damaging the wing of the B-47. Major Richardson radioed for instructions and was told to jettison the H-Bomb before attempting an emergency landing. The pilot did as he was told, releasing the bomb into the shallow waters just off the coast from the mouth of the Savannah River. A massive search was undertaken to recover the errant weapon; troops searched the salt marshes, divers plumbed the depths, even a blimp joined in and searched by air, but dammit- they never did find that bomb. The search was officially called off 68 days later, on April 16^th, 1958. The Hydrogen Bomb still sits out there somewhere, perhaps one day to be found by a man in headphones, scanning the beach with his metal detector.

Apocalypse, conclusion

Elberton, Georgia, 2186-

On the Georgia bank of the Savannah River, logs were visible strewn all about the shoreline. Some were quite large and carried a strange glow. They began entering the river, and it dawned on me- these weren’t logs, but Radigators. They lay in ambush, waiting to invite us to dinner- as guests of honor. These were not like your pet Caiman or Monitor lizard- these were mature Georgia ‘gators turned radioactive, likely by living in the river of the haunted fireflies. Measuring 15 feet long, and weighing two thousand pounds, the glowing behemoths came straight for us as we approached. Using one of their own tactics against them, we decided to feign lethargy. We paddled in slowly, and before they reached us, we accelerated through and past them. Having caught them off guard, we made it ashore before they came about and we grabbed our gear while still dragging the canoes. After hauling the birch barks clear of the water, we pulled them up a bit farther, knowing that the Savannah this far south was tidal.

Now moving on foot, we rested only after hiking more than a mile inland. We pitched camp beneath a canopy of Cypress that had once again come to define the character of the Georgia swamp. Even a mile inland, we had to make sure our campfire was stoked with wood. If we allowed it to burn down to glowing embers, it could attract curious Radigators, seeking out their own. And we weren’t the only ones who knew it; several other campfires burned brightly in the distance! Who could they be? There was an undercurrent of excitement- we were very close to our destination in the land of stones. Taking turns on watch, we all slept well for the first time in weeks.

The next morning

The sun shone brightly on the tree tops that held a cacophony of birdsong. Smoke from freshly doused fires rose in many places and we heard the sounds of muffled conversation. Our campfire was still aflame and we buried it with heaps of sand, sending a plume of smoke skyward to mingle with the others. The sound of crashing in the woods nearby brought us all to our feet, and we stood ready for anything. Anything turned out to be a young woman carrying an armful of water jugs, apparently headed to the river. She was dressed in tightly fitting animal skins and her own skin was painted in bright colors. We stood completely still, not wanting to spook her, and even averted our gazes to show we meant no harm. She nodded in our direction and continued on by.

We wondered if she was a one of the local peoples- and if she were alone. By now, we were completely packed and ready to continue. The guards were mulling over the set of coordinates the Avatale had marked for us on papyrus paper back in the lightstorms of Appalachia. They read: 34.2 degrees North latitude 82.9 degrees West longitude. Our compass showed we were headed in the right direction and so we began to take the final steps of a so far harrowing journey. Once again, there was a crashing through the woods, this time two men appeared at the edge of the clearing, dark skinned, and dressed in white flowing robes, with head gear to match. Their hats wore tails that covered their necks, and it was obvious to me they were from somewhere else. One carried a machete, the other jugs for water, and again, they seemed headed for the river. The Guards reflexively brandished their swords, and I raised a hand to stop them. The foreign traveler in white robes then held his machete high, and in an exaggerated motion, dropped it to the ground, smiling. The Guards looked at me, I nodded to them, and they let fall the two large swords, which clanged together on the ground.

The painted woman came walking back through camp, handed us all a jug of water, and motioned for us to follow her. I produced the papyrus, and showed them all the coordinates scribbled on the paper. This started them all talking in several languages, and I joined in with yet another, until the woman held up her hand, and we all fell silent. She then pulled a large hunting knife from a scabbard on her ankle, causing us to step back. She sliced away her deer skin sleeve, and showed us a faded old tattoo on her arm that read: 34N 89W. The men in white robes nodded and began chattering excitedly. She turned into the woods and we all followed single file.

Once known as Elberton County, the area had been known in previous centuries for its plentiful mineral deposits, most notably for having the highest quality Blue Granite in the entire world. Considering the longevity of such stone, it came as no surprise that we were walking through a countryside scattered with all manner of monuments, some educational, others simply tributes to good men, women, deeds, events and organizations. There were polished stones telling of Revolutionary war heroes, Native American tribes, parks, river ways, villages, and even the dams that drowned them. We paused a moment to drink it all in, and I found myself leaning on a polished granite stone etched with the words: ‘thanking all the heroes of all the wars’. It went on to list the Revolutionary War, the Spanish American War, the Civil War, Korean War, World War One, World War Two, the Vietnam War, the First War in Iraq, the Second War in Iraq, the War in Afghanistan, and World War Three. But of course, the big one was conspicuously absent, there having been no person, agency or organization left to carve a monument.  

I shook my head at what we had found. It was safe to say I was dumbfounded by the dumb we had founded. How many lives, families, potential cures, kids and Kings had we snuffed beneath the futile fog of war? It could be read on the walls of canyons as well as in the inscriptions in Blue Granite; we went from clubbing each other with Mammoth bones to clubbing each other with Hydrogen Bombs, but it was really all the same thing.

We weren’t sure why we had come, but we were certain we didn’t come to rebuild a society that begins clubbing once more. As we padded through the grassy countryside, our diverse group grew ever larger and more diverse. People in all forms of dress, spoke languages we’d never heard before, and joined in the single-file procession. According to our sextant and last night’s stars, we were close. This was confirmed when the painted woman leading the procession turned and thrust a hand high in the air. She whispered into the ear of another brightly painted woman now standing beside her. The woman translated, saying, “Halt”, and then repeated the word in 7 more languages. Our procession shuffled to a stop. She whispered into her translator’s ear once again, who repeated, “We are here”.

Seeing nothing, there was a clamor among us made of many angry voices. But the painted women turned away and climbed over a last rise, motioning us to follow. As we crested the final hill, we came upon a small group of strangely clad men, all of different races. They stood together on a large flat granite slab, each dressed in the different holy garb of their own tribe. The tallest was a Nubian Chief, who stood beside a wrinkled red man wearing a headpiece that trailed eagle feathers to the granite below. They each stood with an arm outstretched, pointing away into the distance.

And there, on the next hilltop, worn from the weather, the lightstorms and the centuries, stood the Georgia Guide stones. The procession was no longer single file or orderly, but there was no stampede. We walked through a small dip and came up the hillside toward the 20 foot tall blocks of polished Blue Granite that carried –in many languages- the 10 guiding principles that might lead to a better world for all of us.

Many different tribes from far flung lands sat in groups, dotting the hills surrounding the Guide stones, reading, translating and discussing the wisdom behind each word. An enormous line of abalone shells encircled the monument, some smoking with burning sage, others with sacred cedar, and still others smelling of all the ancient spices and incense of a world gone by –and one yet to come. Peace pipes filled with sacred tobacco were passed from hand to hand, as elderly she-shaman spread cornmeal at the feet of new arrivals. Marijuana, Frankincense, cypress, rosemary- every treat for the senses wafted in and around the gathered throngs, all here to not only mark the beginning of a new world, but the peaceful, spiritual conclusion of the old one.

The celebration continued until high noon, when solsticial sunbeams pierced through a hole in the gargantuan capstone, striking a precise mark within the Guidestones. In the distance, a single gong sounded, its ring sustaining for a long, meditative moment.

On the next hilltop, the collected tribal chiefs spoke to the painted translator, who repeated their words in seven languages. In English, she said, “Only the bold, only the strong, have made this journey. Some died along the way. But a new world begins as the sun strikes its mark through the stone. Now take the words from these stones, and etch them forever onto the stone that beats within your chest.

 

As the gathered masses considered the 10 Guides in the stones, they also considered each other. Each face searched every other, each smile waited for another. Spirits rose along with the sweet scent of burning, smoky medicine. And when each hand had reached out and was taken, hope spread like the seeds of a dandelion to the four corners of the Earth, from a Blue Granite miracle that had withstood an age of madness, and ushered in an age of reason.

joey racano

 11 28 09

 

  The Georgia Guide stones, origin unknown

 

our founder

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EarthSourceMedia Reports for March 23rd, 2009

It has been said that red and yellow make green; it may be more accurate to say that red -as in bloodshed-and green -as in the pursuit of cash- may make yellow.

 ~Yellow Tide: Amber Alert~

July 14th, 2012- Huntington Beach, California

The day was not unlike many others; a mild breeze swept a salty musk quietly ashore, where sleeping worshippers of the sun bathed in its warm caress. The lanky lifeguard sat high atop his crows nest perch, dreaming of a girl who passed through last season, she having stayed in this seaside hamlet just long enough to rub lotion onto his back, love into his young heart, and salt into his wounds shortly thereafter.

He was startled awake by the laughing of gulls, one of which left a no-return deposit on the wood railing nearby. That was close, he thought and reached for the towel the guards kept for just such occasions.  Standing tall, he gazed out to sea and wiped the sleep from his eyes. A second such gaze convinced him that the blur on the eastern horizon was more than the flotsam of today’s siesta.

“Pass me those binocs”, he ordered the junior lifeguard working on homework inside the hut. “Gimme!” he said again, gesturing palm-up and without looking.  

“Whaddisit?” asked the teen, handing a powerful pair of binoculars out the rough-cut window.

“Looks like a boat- no, maybe a couple- looks like a mess of small sailboats, all bobbing up and down, maybe a couple miles out”.

“Lemme see- I got good eyes. Lemme see”

“Here- what do you see?” asked the lifeguard.

“Dunno. Is there some sort of reggatta today or sumpin’?”

“Gimme those back a minute. Dam! Get me that walkie-talkie, dude.”

Coastguard Headquarters, Orange County, California

“Captain Braggalot, I’ve got a lifeguard from surf city on the horn talking about a bunch of boats offshore, little, tiny sailboats. He wants- umm, is a race happening today -er- some kind of reggatta? You wanna talk to ‘im? He sounds pretty upset”.

“Nope, nothing ’till September- call upstairs to DHS, ask them if they have anything showing up on radar”.

“Yessir! Mother-may-I, Little red wagon, do you copy over?”

“Mother May I this is Little Red Wagon, come in please?”

“Wagon this is your mother, what’s goin’ on down there over?”

“Lifeguard at tower 22 says he’s got bogies by sea from the east, can you confirm that via radar over?”

“Wait one, wagon” (Fitzman, can you- what the…!)

“Wagon we’re coming right down, don’t make any more transmissions on this frequency..”

  

Office 2137, Pentagon Complex:

(DHS Secretary, pressing intercom button):

“Colonel Dinkens, can you come up to 2137 on the double please? Tell no one you’re coming, and come alone.”

“I’ll be there on the double Ms Napolitano”.

Main Street Pier, Huntington Beach

“Dude, I am so freakin’ out! This is way ‘deja-vu; remember when the Police Chief in Jaws, umm, what was his name, Brody, or what was his real…”

“Martin Brody- Roy Schieder”.

“Yeah! Remember when the shark was in the pond and those guys were doing this exact same…”

“Shut up and keep making that announcement- keep holding that trigger thing down when you speak!”

YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE- ALL CITIZENS PLEASE EXIT THE BEACH IMMEDIATELY- THIS IS AN EMERGENCY- BY THE ORDER OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY ALL CITIZENS MUST EVACUATE THE BEACH AREA IMMEDIATELY- REMAIN CALM-

“Dam bro, what the $@!^k is goin’ on, man? Where are all these guys coming from- they look Chinese!”

“Exactly.”

“Let’s stop and talk to one of ‘em- stop the blazer, stop for a second, maybe we can ask…Sir? Uh, sir? We’d like to ask you a few- what is…can I read that piece of paper in your hand? Can I- do you mind?”

“Whoa dude- if this is what I think it is-”

“Christ, will you people just go around, just go aro-HEY!! You! Yeah, you- you can’t leave that there- no! You can’t moor your boat there, dingy, junk, whateveritis, you CAN’T LEAVE it THERE, ya hear me?”

Jesus, they’re like locusts! What in the hell is goin’ on here?”

Office 2137, Pentagon Complex:

“Got here as soon as I..”

“Good, sit down and listen! I just got a call from Wen Jiabao, and he’s saying…”

“Wen who? I’m sorry, I don’t…”

“Wen Jiabao, knucklehead, he’s the Chinese Premier, and he’s worried about his money- actually, he’s worried about our economy and who can blame him? Out of the two trillion dollars China has scattered around outside it’s own country, 70% of that is U.S. government loans, and that ain’t no chopped liver, ya understand me?”

“Yes Janet, but what can he do right now? You can’t get blood from a stone-”

“I’ll tell you what he can do, and he’s already doing it! He’s emptying his prisons, mental hospitals, reform schools sewers and poor houses and he’s sending them over here on little boats with deeds for an acre and a half each, and our intelligence reports say he sent a billion of them this morning at gunpoint, he’s shooting anyone who heads back for China and…”

(Head hung down and shaking back and forth) “And?”

“…and he’s sending the second billion right now. Got any ideas?”

“Uh-uh- ….hey, wait!”

(Napolitano and Dinkens at the same time): “Cheney’s detention centers in Arizona!”

Huntington beach; Bolsa Chica Bluffs:

*squeeeek!!!*VERMIND YOUR BEACH TOWELS AND UMBRELLAS-THEY WILL BE RETURNED TO YOU AT A LATER DATE- ALL CITIZENS PLEASE EXIT THE BEACH AREA USING THE HANDY WHEELCHAIR RAMPS PROVIDED NEAR THE CONCESSION STANDS AND-

“So, those things are some kind of-”

“Property titles or something, yeah, I think so. That must be how the Chinese intend to get paid for financing the Iraq invasion.”

“Those ungrateful bastards- don’t they appreciate the way we kept them safe from terrorism so they can be free to bust college students, sentence them to death, parade them around a stadium of screaming lunatics and then shoot them in the back of the head? The nerve!”

*Squeek!!!*PEAT-DO NOT BOTHER WITH YOUR COOLERS, BLANKETS OR UMBRELLAS- THIS IS THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SEC-squeek!!!!*

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC; the Whitehouse:

“And I want to be kept up to the second..”

“Yes sir.”

“…. the instant….”

“Yes sir.”

 ”….no matter wha..”

“Yes sir.”

(Red phone sounds the theme from Hawaii 5-O):

“It’s the Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao!- Agent Tribbleeto?”

“Yes sir?”

“Leave the office now”.

“Yes sir”.

“Premier Jiabao, what a pleasant sur-”

“Don’t boo-shit me, Mr. Obama please. Where’s my money?”

“Why Mr. Premier, the office of the treasury is printing additional…”

“Like Mr. Ahmadinijhad says, Mr. Obama- ‘worthless pieces of paper- you’re broke! Everybody knows it and you, meester fellow, have exactly one hour to fess up with it or I send the signal to send the jailers to send the key masters to send the inmates to their awaiting armada to send to Huntington Beach! One hour, Mr. Obama-goodbye.”

Coast Guard Headquarters, Orange County:

“Shiny Red Wagon this is Arizona Border Patrol do you copy? Repeat, the detention centers are completely full and we…”

“Arizona this is Red Wagon, are you ok out there? Come in Arizona!”

Main Street Pier, Huntington Beach:

REPEAT, DO NOT COME BACK FOR YOUR PICNIC BASKETS- “Aw, what’s the use? C’mon kid, let’s take one of these boats and head for trinidad, I hear the surfs up!”

“Cowabunga dude! Hey- you kids, save me a boat! hey man, come on dude, save me a…”

The end?

 

our founder

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EarthSourceMedia Reports for February 25th, 2009

~Night-night, Satellite~

Snowy Glacier, Antarctica:

Antarctica; ‘primordial ice castle,

isle of white- final frontier of all that is right’

(against a backdrop of steady, roaring wind) …”Dr. Rixmuffin, the new satellite data has come in. You want to wait until…?”

“No, let’s look at it right away. Back to the tent-bunker”.

(wind quiets as they enter tent) …”Tell me Doctor, the graphics are very colorful, but what does it all mean?”

(removing snowshoes) …”Well, the pink represents the ice cover, and the blue is open ocean water. See how it’s changed from 2005 to 2006? It’s worse than we thought. We can’t wait any longer- it’s time to send up the Taurus XL. Call washington”.

 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, DC

(Handsome well-dressed black man handles red phone) … ”So like I said, Emperor, we simply don’t have the $3,000,000,000,000 at this time. The solution is that we’ll have to work together to stabilize the gulf, and end the wars, saving the US two billion a week- that’s a trillion annually, much of which can be redirected to pay off the…”

‘Uh, Sir?

I’m sorry sir, it’s Dr. Rixmuffin from Base 12 in Antarctica, he says it’s urgent”.

“Emperor, I have to let you go, please accept my gratitude for your patience and humble thanks for the honor of your friendship. Michelle? Of course I’ll tell her you said it, I know she feels the same way-goodbye”.

“OK, what’ve we got Randall?”

(hands him the phone)…

“Mr. President? Dr. Rixmuffin here, Base 12; the European satellite data has come back with significantly less pink and substantially more blue. I think you know what it means- there’s no time to argue between the parties.”

“It’s not really an argument Steve; China is opening a new coal-fired power plant every three days, we owe them a ton of money, and the only resource America still has is coal.  The only realistic way we can pay off the debt is to mine more coal and send it to China. It’s a tough call- those are jobs that vote democratic, but the climate is rising. This will spiral out of control if we don’t act right away- we’ll have to show the danger of burning more coal! I agree with you, it’s time to send up the Taurus XL.”

A,T&T Headquarters Building:

(four sharp knocks, followed by a whistle)

“Enter, agent 9.”

“Thanks- wow, what a cool little room this is! All this electronic gear! And ATT is ok with this?”

“Sorry 9, that kind of thing is all ‘need-to-know’. For right now, we’re monitoring the conversation between the Whitehouse and Antarctica, and I don’t think MRC is gonna like what I’m recording-listen to this!” (click* ‘it’s not really an argument, steve- china is opening a new coal-fired power plant every three days, and…)

“Yikes! We recorded the Whitehouse?!”

“Hell yes- National security, project M.E.R.C.Y. We’d better get this to MRC right away.”

“And MRC is..?”

“MERCY. Stands for Murdock Rove Cheney“.

“As in Rupert Karl and Dick? What do they care?”

NASA HQ at Vandenberg Air Force Base, Lompoc, California:

“Project Manager Brunschwyler, how may I help you?”

“Mr. Brunschwyler? Please hold for the President of the United States.”

(turn that down, turn it down!! I think this might really be…)

“Mr. Brunschwyler?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, one moment.”

“John?”

“Yes sir!”

“Barack Obama. I hope your day is going better than mine is.”

“I-uh, I-I…”

“The reason I’m calling is, your country needs you John. Is that satellite of yours ready to go out into orbit?”

“Yes sir, standing by for your order, sir.”

“Get it done. Dr. Rixmuffin will see to it you have everything you need. And John?”

“Sir?”

“I’m counting on you.”

“Yes sir!”

(hangs up phone)…”OK everybody, look alive, it’s showtime!” (cheers, shouts)…

Gargoyle Mountain, Montana:

(Deep within the Cheney Fortress, cauldrens smoking, vats bubbling, lights flashing, electrodes warping, vroomp, vroomp, vroomp!)…

*hisssss-click-sizzle* M.E.R.C.Y M.E.R.C.Y, come in mother mercy-whirr-click-hiss*

(view from behind, bald head in swivel chair, whirls around- revealing man in white scientists smock)..

“Mother M.E.R.C.Y., go ahead.”

*Mr. Cheney, we’ve intercepted a relevant transmission, sir- should be arriving in the…* whir-click-hisssss*

“Got it. Good job- now, delete this recording, any record or transcripts and e-mails immediately. Also, blow up any private aircraft carrying former webmasters ASAP- Mother M.E.R.C.Y. out!”

*Out-hiss-click*

Melbourne, Australia:

ooooga   ooooga   ooooga! “Murdoch, go ahead United States.”

“Rupert? This is Dick- we’ve got a big one- NASA is about to launch-”

“How many times have I told you, Richard? Just take care of it! I’m up to my ass in complaints about the chimp cartoon in the NY Post! I’m trying to keep war crimes off the front pages, but I can only run so many stories honoring the burn victims, y’know!!? Even 9-11 isn’t working since the bottom dropped out!”

“Rupert, it’s a satellite to measure carbon and identify natural heat sinks, like forests. It can’t take off!”

“Richard, you’re overreacting! The Europeans already have a satellite and no one’s paying any attention-”

(in background: “yeah darth, you’re over reacting! Hey, what happened to getting Libby a pardon? Ha ha ha har-dee har!”)..

“Who is that?”

“Nothing, Richard, it’s Karl fooling around on the extension is all, he’s been drinking, let him alone- *karl-hushup!*

“Dr. Rixmuffin’s paying attention, Rupert- and so’s America’s new darling! We don’t need a mom and apple pie American satellite blasting off and corraborating the European data! The oil companies don’t want it, the logging companies don’t want forests to be seen as ‘heat sinks’, ‘clean coal’ doesn’t want it, and for the love of god, Rupert, that satellite better not take off!”

NASA, Vandenberg Air Force Base, Lompoc, California:

“OK people, look alive, and we’ve got T-minus 10! Propulsion?”

“Pro is a ‘go!”

“Nine! Thermal sheilding?”

“Sheilds are ‘go!”

“Eight! Coolant?”

“Go, sir!”

“Seven! -power plant?”

“All go!”

“Six! Five! Four! Ground?”

“(yawn) Ground is go, sir.”

“Always cool, aren’t you Epstein? Three!”

Two!” One! and Mark!”

“Ignition, liftoff!!”

(bright burn, roaring and thunder)…

Burbank California:

“Hi everybody, this is Johnny Zinger for ABZ news, and from the mountains to the prarie, welcome- tonight we bring you a special report on the OBAMA HELICOPTER controversy, the PEANUT BUTTER doomsday scenario, and the horror of STEROIDS in SPORTS! Oh, and also, we’ll cover that little launch of a carbon monitoring satellite from Vandenberg- but first this word from today’s ARMY- an army of one! (news program music)…

A,T&T Headquarters Building:

(four sharp knocks, followed by a whistle)

“You may enter, agent nine- what’s the word?”

“Well, M.E.R.C.Y. says the Orbiting Carbon Observatory is ‘ixnay on the arbon-cay’. And no more money for Orbital Sciences Corporation, either. Says we push the little square clicker button on the remote at three minutes in.”

“And what’s that gonna do?”

“Just what the man said- ‘ixnay on the arbon-cay’ . Chevron, Exxon and Clean Coal say no way on the arbon cay- satellite must not launch.”

Vandenberg AFB, Lompoc, California:

“Sir, the launch is vibrating a bit.”

“What’s the heat-ometer reading?”

“Normal. But the flux-tramitozometer says there’s an extra 13 ounces on board we can’t account for.”

“Steady as she goes.”

“Aye.”

Burbank California:

“Hi everybody, this is Johnny Zinger for ABZ news, back again and we take you now to Vandenberg Air Force Base, where they appear to be having some trouble with the $280,000,000 dollar satellite finally being launched after 9 years of work and planning. The crowd is surprisingly large for a 2:00am rocket launch, all necks craned way back as the rocket goes into ‘pitch and yaw’.

Wait-wait- hold it- it’s arching down now, a sweeping pattern of fire in the sky, trailing down, ever downward towrd the earth once again- I’m not sure it’s supposed to be doing this, but no-no NOOO!!!!”

silence

Everybody, this is Johnny Zinger for ABZ news saying the satellite has crashed into the ocean just off of Antarctica. Into the ocean where ice should be. Into the warming waters. For ABZ news, this is Johnny Zinger saying, stay tuned for news at 11:00, where OSCAR reigns supreme!

“(And) somewhere out in the eternal ink of space, one more species crash lands

one more race of intersteller butterfly, caught in its own cocoon

fails to shed the cosmic umbilical cord, and no one noticed

and no diety cared, as both cry and tears froze

in the cold impartial vaacum of a forever night’

joey racano 2009

 

our founder

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EarthSourceMedia Reports for February 5th, 2009

WINDOWS of OPPORTUNITY

starring Bill Gates

 ”Friends and family,  partners and colleagues, ladies and gentleman, we are all here today to embrace the future.

So, with an eye on social justice, environmental sustainability, the time has come, of course, to explore new opportunities to make some money. Welcome you all here to the 2009 TGP symposium, ‘WINDOWS of OPPORTUNITY’, which in this case TGP stands for ‘This Guys a Psycho’. Now, without further ado, it is my great and distinct pleasure to introduce the man in this land with a plan to put cash in your hand, ladies and gentleman, Bill Gates!”

 (loud applause)

*#!%@feedback screeching from microphone* 

“Thankyou, thankyou, yes, thanks, thanks, okthatsenuffthanx, everybody, thanx”.

“This is always one of my favorite events of the year, and this year is no exception. Except, this years convention is kind of exempt from being an exception because of the complexion of todays worlds perception of Americas reflection. A-hem. I thank you for inviting me to join you here today. Now, before I get to my speech, I’d like to invite you inside my own private world as I travel the globe with an eye on the miseries of the poor”.

S-s-s-s– THUPP!! -(opens a small medicine bottle full of mosquitos replete with hairy legs and striped probiscus)

“Having learned from Donald Rumsfelds bird-flu vaccine investments, where he spread a virus AFTER cornering the market on the worlds only bird-flu vaccine, and again learning from Dick Cheney and Alberto Gonzales, who invested in private Texas prisons after manipulating our laws and constitution in order to incarcerate more people, I came up with an investment strategy of my own…involving DDT and other too-long dormant miricles of medical science!!!

Because it is impossible to convey the sadness of third world children being attacked by malaria-carrying insects, I have decided to better illustrate their plight by releasing a few hundred mosquitos among you here for your perousal.”

z-z-z-zz-z–z-zz–z-z-z-z-z-z-z   b-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z    zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz   zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

(gasps, the crowd staggers backward a few steps)

“Another thing that has caught my attention is the unexplored opportunity to capitalize on apian throat mites. Honey production is dropping everywhere, as is cotton-clothing production, and I, for one, am not about to let that one slip away, simply because you, my fellow entreprenuers aren’t ‘feeling’ me on this one. And so, I hold here in my hand a pail of Killer Bees, which I hope will work to make you all more aware of the plight of apiaries everywhere. Being a hardy breed, these little suckers would eliminate inventory loss from Brown Bear intrusion, and other breaches in product integrity. Let me just peel off the plastic cover- ”

(Screams, gasps, people head for exits)

B-u-z-z-z-z-z-   B-u-z-z-z-z-z-z-!!

…”no-no-no, don’t worry, there were little holes punched in the top, they can breathe, they can breathe,,,”

“Then there are the untold hidden and perhaps as-yet unpercieved advantages of new medicines -possibly manufactured in a space-laboratory- that could stop mamallian diseases in their tracks, before they even get a chance to become a threat! And so, in order to show you what I mean, I thought it might be easier to grasp if I allowed a few hundred rabid skunks to mingle among you- no- no- don’t be afraid, these aren’t yet in the ‘goonie’ stage, as it were, not yet, no- well, maybe that small group over there with the overactive salivary glands and -

(People running screaming, yelling, climbing on chairs)

“Remain calm, it’s only 9 shots and we have at least eight of those right on the premises, wait-!!  UNGH!! What’s that- smell- unhhh those over there went ‘off’ I must apologize for the odiferous consequences of my little demonstration..but look, see? Over there- the answer to any venom, a wheelbarrow full of Madagascar black=clawed scarlet-fanged scorpions, yes, just turn that barrow upside down and-…”

(Moaning, dying, screaming, cussing, sirens wail, police bang at doors)

…”and that’s it for tonight folks, this is Bill Gates, with ‘WINDOWS of OPPORTUNITY’ saying, goodnight and go with grace! 

Oh yes, and the Purple Recluse spiders, in the 55 gallon drums, let ‘er rip, that’s right, not gonna miss a chance to tap into that commodity, are we folks? Of course not! Not don’t be alarmed, they won’t- ah- ahhh-  ARGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Security! Security!

 

our founder

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EarthSourceMedia Reports for January 3rd, 2009

‘Neon Lake Leon’

1 month into the whirlind USA tour now, and EarthSourceMedia has collected up a barrel full of great pics, great stories and great adventure! Let me share a bit…

There is something to be said for making all those random decisions and wrong turns that, in the end, lead you to a place like Lake Leon. Situated in Eastland, Texas, our mighty ‘Skacciabong’ now sits on the north shore of a dam-created lake, and once you get over the obvious sad tale of any dammed river, the beauty and serenity is astounding. ’No Service’ screamed my cell phone, and of course, this just as it says, ‘1 new voicemail’.  So let the suspense kill me, I’ll check it at some point on the road to our next stop, Tuscon, Arizona.

But I must wonder, was it Barack obama offering me some high-level position in his administration? Hmm. It would be possible if reports didn’t already show that I might say something embarassing on TV or something anytime some industrial bully tried to hurt a little Red Squirrel like the one my dog has been watching at the base of a tree on the shoreline. But in my own defense, I must say I know how to give orders though- such as, “Trinka, No! Leave daddy’s nice squirrel alone!” And there are repercussions too. The dogs have been angry ever since yesterday when Sandra remembered we kept a big bag of peanuts stowed below decks and I spread them out beneath that line of trees. Gorgeous trees, sparse for the season, making for such lovely sillouhettes.

So very much has happened on the trip and of course there’s just no real time to stop and tell it all. Like what, you ask? Like we bought my sister a herd of Buffalo, for her ranch in Farmersville Texas, how’s that for starters? A sister I hadn’t seen in 40 years, and we’re like twins! And the Buffalo! Bought from a Lakota named Arby Littlesoldier, a grandson of Sitting Bull no less, who handed me a Buffalo skull as a gift of honor! It’s sitting on the dash for now because it’s too big to fit anywhere else except the bed. I am so stoked. Can’t wait to paint it. (www.dakotabuffalo.com).

This RV park, called NorthShore RV Park, is both remote and beautiful, with these cool little lights at each parking slot that shine amber in the dark of night. Mornings bring heavenly glory, an occasional fishing scow backlit and sillouhetted, the entire primordial scene illuminated by the sun. There are some housing pads already cut, where homes may one day be built but have been delayed by the housing ‘crisis’. Ya gotta love that housing crisis!! Cormorants sit drying their wings atop sun-bleached tree stumps, relics of a forest that once stood beside a flowing river, now long-since drowned by the dam.

As one who has lived on the mighty Pacific for the last 18 years, these shores are quiet, believe me, and the bleached rocks are littered with an occasional turtle carapace and the skulls of gigantic carp who dwell within. In a place like this, it is hard to envision mortars or rockets or rat race. Hopefully someday, when we have enough trouble envisioning the toys of discontent, they will vanish forever. But not so, the neon of Lake Leon.

joey racano

 

 our founder

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Tags: lake, carp, photography, mortars, rockets, cormorants, texas, tuscon, travel, rv, dams, tv, barack obama

 EarthSourceMedia Reports for November 16th, 2008

 ’Shhh- They’re Coming!’

Los Angeles, California:

Tucked inside the California section of today’s L.A. Times (Page 6) is a stunning photo of some 10,000 people outside L.A. City Hall, demonstrating their opposition to California’s Prop 8, which was backed by religious groups and will probably be found unconstitutional.  But just to show you how the ‘liberal press’ is tightly controlled by the right wingers who own it, on the front page is a photo of one lone single religious hypocritical maniac, pointing a finger and waving a biblical sign depicting the evils of gay marriage. Here at EarthSourceMedia, we’ve got a special remedy for such foam-at-the-mouth maniacs who want to dictate how others may live- stop christian marriage! That’s the way to deal with these bozos. I said the same thing last week at Long Beach Council chambers about developers building on an indian burial ground- just send the indians into a cemetary, have them set up their teepees, call the press and wait for the cops. When they ask what is going on, tell them you’re building a housing tract. 

Auburn, California:

In California’s water wars, it’s always been ‘use it or lose it’ for water rights, and the Auburn Dam, never having ‘used it’ is about to lose it. In a related story, Fish & Game officials found a giant Chinook Salmon (also known as ‘King’ Salmon), who was 51″ long and when alive may well have been more than the current world-record 88 pounds. The fish died of natural causes in the spawning cycle in Battle Creek, Red Bluff California. -ESM

Glendale, California:

Smoke wafted overhead, distant flames licked the sky, ashes smeared their powder everywhere, and ashen-faced people stood sullen-eyed on the verge of shock as the fires destructive toll mounted around them. Brush fires still crackled when the Americana at Brand Shopping Center decided to kick off their shopping season with a pyrotechnics display! In an area whose hotels were filled with fire-evacuees, neighbors poured out of their homes in a rage. “We weren’t trying to be insensitive”, said the centers spokeswoman Jennifer Gordon, explaining it was the christmas tree lighting ceremony and it couldn’t be rescheduled. And for us here at EarthSourceMedia, that opens up another can of worms- cutting down giant trees so you can hang dingle-balls on them for two weeks and throw them away. If you must decorate trees, why not light them ‘in place’, and when the season ends, simply remove the decorations and keep the forest alive? The chipmunks would certainly appreciate it. -ESM   

 Washington, DC:

An Associated Press story on the G20 ‘Econ’ Summit held yesterday in Washington DC carried the fruedian slip headline of the year. It read, ’No Concrete Steps Taken’. In other words, the only way outa this mess is the way we came in- by slathering an 8″ layer of concrete over every square foot of this dying planet. The emergency event was attended by leaders of 21 nations and 4 international organisations. Hosting the event, lame duck President George W. Bush did more than just look stupid in photographs though- he also spoke in characteristic moronic fashion saying, “I wasn’t going to go for the $700 billion dollar bailout until they called me in and told me if I didn’t it would cause a depression bigger than the great depression.” This guy is about to do what few have ever been able to achieve; he’s going to make a huge segment of the worlds population very happy -by leaving.

La Mesa, California:

A Jiffy Lube employee was knocked to the ground and robbed of a bag containing $500 dollars last week, as she locked up for the night. Allow EarthSourceMedia to offer some comfort- it’s only money, nobody was hurt, and what with all the lubrication around, it could have been a much worse crime. -ESM

 Paris, france:

Lindsay Lohan showed physical beauty isn’t necessarily an indication of a beautiful person, when she arrived at the VIP Room Nightclub in gay pari’ wearing a fur. It is safe to assume the fur was torn from an animals body at some point earlier. Like the song goes, ‘It’s so easy, yay-yay- to hurt others when you can’t feel pain’. Lindsay, Lindsay, honey- say it ain’t so baby! You gonna do us like that when we’ve swooned over you since, be-jeepers, since I can’t even remember when? I’m disillusioned. But a hero did save the day. No sooner did the ‘Queen of Mean’ step onto the red carpet, than she was pelted by a ‘flour-bomb’ that powdered her nose but good. We here at EarthSourceMedia understand you’re under constant pressure, Lindsay, but never forget who you are girl. You, of all people, don’t need to wear anybody else’s skin.  

Halifax, Yorkshire England:

British etiquitte

A 91-year old woman was awakened around 4a.m. last October 9th by an intruder who scared her about half to death. The would-be robber fled without any loot, but left the poor woman in a fright. Not long afterward, she was again surprised, this time by a bouquet of flowers, along with a card apologizing for the break in, for frightening the woman, and explaining the would-be burglar had thought the house empty. West Yorkshire Police Detective Inspector Tony Nicholson has appealed for the burglar to come forward. EarthSourceMedia says no need- we know the cost of cut flowers today.

Denver, Colorado:

Remember not too long ago, when the democrats were doing things like signing on to the Bush administrations program of spying on Americans and sending more and more billions to the war machine that lied about everything and didn’t armor our troops? Remember the things they didn’t do, like impeach Bush and Cheney? Those were the times when good Americans were clamoring for real substantive change, such as that brought forth by Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich. The switchboards were lit, the emails were flying, the meetings were full- and the Democratic National Convention in Denver was demonstrated. But they were ready for us. Who is ‘they’? The corporations who own the democrats as well as the republicans. The paramilitaries (and military) who protect the status quo, the pathetic, dead end, American two-party system. They sent in choppers and swat teams, they wiped us off the streets, arrested and jailed us. You weren’t allowed to ask for more and better. You weren’t allowed to protest the corporate rule that brought down the economy, made war, destroyed the environment, and sapped social programs while providing corporate welfare for bankers.

Well, the results are in folks, and after the first round of trials of people arrested for protesting in Denver, there have been 106 arrests and only one conviction. These people weren’t arrested in Denver for being criminals. They were arrested for daring to speak out against the collusion between the democrats and the republicans, both owned by the same corporations. But now of course, it’s ‘Obama, Obama, change, Obama, Obama’. But go out to the forests. The trees are falling. Go out to the battlefield- the soldiers are dying. Look at the sky- the stacks are pouring pollution. We’ve a long way to go, so don’t let up now. And more arrests are forthcoming. Wait- shhh- they’re coming- have to go now-

 For EarthSourceMedia, this is joey racano saying shhh- ’Goodnight, and go with grace!”  -ESM

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Tags: impeach bush, denver arrests, democratic national convention, lindsay lohan, obama, dennis kucinich, california fires, g20 econ summit, auburn dam, water wars, los angeles times, glendale pyrotechnics, prop 8, demonstrations, religious

EarthSourceMedia Reports for October 31st, 2008

‘Say Hello to my Little Friend’

Morro Bay, California:

Hello everyone, don’t be afraid…come on in and Happy Halloween! Bwa-ha ha ha!

Just when you thought it was safe to breathe the air in this quaint little hamlet-by-the-sea, which harbors the nasty-ol’ Morro Bay Power Plant, the Bush administration has foiled us again! Seems that on their way out the door, the Bush cabal is fast-tracking a flurry of rules designed to further deregulate toxic polluting industry. Mining coal would become a bit easier because mountaintops could be removed and simply pushed into pristine streams waiting below for their black sooty bounty.

Power Plants, like the one in Morro Bay Estuary (site of a new Marine Protected Area) will have air pollution limits raised up to- well, up to whatever the highest level of emmissions that plant is capable of spewing -and the NMFS (National Marine Fisheries Service) has a new rule to put the ‘over-fishing’ industry in charge of itself! NMFS are the people behind the whole seal fiasco in LaJolla (see: www.helpsealthedeal.com). Once in, these rules will take time to change back, and should the election not be stolen, even with Obama in the Whitehouse, he may not change the rules because he keeps mentioning ‘clean’ coal in his speeches. Clean coal is very similar to dry water. It doesn’t exist. EarthSourceMedia points out that it was the refusal of the democrats to impeach Bush and Cheney that is allowing  this final rush to madness.

Los Angeles:

A member of the jury about to try recording wiz and suspected murderer Phil Spector has been hurt, once again delaying trial testimony. ESM is trying to substantiate rumours the juror hurt his back carrying a large bag of money away from a meeting with a Spector accountant.

Damascus, Syria:

In a perfect illustration of how well our ‘Peace Keeper’ missiles are keeping the peace, tens of thousands of Syrians massed by the Iraq border denouncing deadly U.S. missile strikes within their country, and calling for the death of Americans. Further proof of the wisdom of trying to convert the world into American satellites were abundant; A bomb killed 5 yesterday in Afghanistan, and a series of 13 coordinated bombings killed almost 100 people in India. So, we’re bombing Pakistan, Pakistan is bombing India, and India is getting help with their nuclear program from the United States. In a statement by the Whitehouse, George Bush said “Ya see? I told you they love us!”   

Sweden:

The Swedish Radiation Safety Authority said on it’s website that during a recent malfunction of it’s alarm system, the Oskarshamn Nuclear Plant used janitors to guard the plants perimeters. The janitors had no security training, but they left the plant glowing. -ESM 

Seattle, Washington:

A 61 year old former Washington University staff member doused himself with gasoline and burned to death on the crowded campus. In many cases of self immolation, there is a message of cause. Let’s face it, you have to really mean it when you light yourself on fire as it can cause great discomfort. But, as is often the case, authorities -who don’t want the public to become enflamed -never allow media to get the word out about why it was done. This was once again the case in todays headlines, which simply focused on the cops, fire extinguishers and macabre. EarthSourceMedia wants to know why. Iraq? Bush? Palin shooting wolves? CIA in the cocaine business? Columbia President Uribe snorting lines with Bush? Bush and Rice in bed? What the hell is going on that someone burned himself to death? -ESM    

Georgia:

A police officer was found guilty of conspiracy after an incident in which a 92 year old woman was shot during a mistaken drug raid. Realizing the unfortunate mix up, quick thinking Officer Arthur Tessler sprang into action. Sometimes, ‘oops‘ simply will not do, and an officer can avoid a lot of embarassing questions just by planting a few well-placed bags of marijuana. After all, its a well known fact a lot of elderly hide their pot among the tea stash. Some are even Al Qaeda.

Mexico City, Mexico:

Last in our scary Halloween column for October 31st, is a quickie about a Mexican narco raid on a mansion owned by real drug dealers. When police showed up, they were not greeted by guns or german shepherd dogs, but by Lions, white Tigers, and black Jaguars! The only thing harder to believe than the improbable manajerie is that the U.S. has nothing to do with the murder, mayhem and marijuana happening in Mexico on a daily basis or with the drug trade coming north across the border.

Whether it’s Heroin poppies from Afghanistan, Cocaine Coca leaves from Columbia or Acapulco Gold high-grade Mexican weed from Mexico, you can be sure of one common denominator- the market is the youth of the United States and the 9 year old inner city black youth dealing crack on the street isn’t the one bringing it in because he doesn’t have the resources. And joey knows drug smuggling. Dear old dad smuggled drugs for the Columbians back in the scarface days. Live by the sword, die by the sword- he was murdered in July, 1983. 

For EarthSourceMedia, I’m joey racano saying “Goodnight and go with grace”.

EarthSourceMedia Reports for October 30th, 2008

EarthSourceMedia Mini Editorial:

‘Decision 2008′

When citizens work to improve America, it should be known there are two such countries- the America in which we live, and the America that shall come to be. For better or worse, the America of today is already formed, her features beyond our control. It is the face of future America upon which we must decide and the state of the future State is being formed even as this editor writes.

In Al Gore’s book, ‘Earth in the Balance- Ecology and the Human Spirit’, there was a picture of an unrecognizable form, made up of smaller pictures. The form was made of black or white squares, and, as we were to see on the following page, all it took was one additional square to recognize the composite as the 16th President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln.

But remove that one square, and Honest Abe fell back into the depths of obsecurity from which he had come. The point our former Vice President was making was how hard it might be to see our ecological peril before it was too late to act. This fact is known well to the oil companies, who pour enormous money into disinformation campaigns designed to give the illusion there is still some question about global warming and if man might be causing it. Their goal is to keep us from taking the decisive action necessary to save ourselves while they swim in money until the end of the world.

The ultimate destination of our country is similarly hard to see without that ‘one more square’ added to the picture. It is likely that by the time we can see that destination, it would be too late to avoid should it be an undesireable one. A recent editorial in San Diego’s Union Tribune railed against the Washington Post and other newspapers for comparing the behavior of people at McCain/Palin rallies to those of people attending Nazi rallies during the rise of Hitler. The editorial went on to point out the great differences in severity of the activities, saying it was wrong to compare the two. But like all pro-capitalist right leaning news outlets from the Ayne Rand school of thought, this is a dangerous road to hoe. The issue isn’t whether or not we are another Third Reich- it is whether or not we are aimed in that direction and becoming more like one every day.

In choosing to walk the fine line between freedom and fascism, one mistake can take us past the point of no return, and America treds that fine line today. -ESM 

Damascus, Syria:

Thousands are attending a government sanctioned rally today, protesting American Military raids inside the country. The Syrian government is threatening to cut off security cooperation along the Iraq border if any further such raids occur, and has ordered the immediate closing of a cultural center and of an American school by November 6th.

Afghanistan:

Pakistans government has summoned U.S.Ambassador Anne Patterson to protest American missile strikes on that country as well. Such strikes are designed to stop terrorist strikes in the west. 

Kut, Iraq:

The U.S. Military turned control of Wasit Province back over to Iraqi authorities Wednesday saying the smuggling problem there was under control. Even as journalists, EarthSourceMedia finds it hard to understand how one country can give another country back to itself. Adding to the confusion is the language barrier, where for the first few days of the transfer troops from both countries continually asked each other, “Wasit?”

Lincoln, Nebraska:

Nebraska legislators are struggling with the now infamous ’safe-haven’ law as more and more people continue dropping off their kids. At least 30 of those dropped off are 17 years old. No confirmation they have formed Nebraska’s newest gang, the ‘18th Street Drop Offs’.

Washington DC:

‘Federal mortgage guarantees readied’ said a headline in todays Los Angeles Times as the Fed lowered it’s key interest rate to 1%, lowest since 2004. “We finally got a guarantee..” said an unidentified inner-city homeowner facing foreclosure. “We guaranteed to be out on our asses”.

Washington DC:

Nuclear detection device is audited 

The Department of Homeland Security exaggerated the performance of costly new machines designed to detect radiological material that could be used to make ‘dirty bombs’. Radiation found to be present in microwave ovens, televisions, computer screens, cell phones and glow in the dark necklaces is said to pose no problem whatsoever.

Los Angeles, California:

In the 2000 election, voting accuracy was called into question as it was again in Ohio in 2004. If ESM readers have concerns about the integrity of the upcoming presidential election, those concerns are well-founded; in the last 8 years since the Gore-Bush maelstrom, vote-counting precision has apparently made no progress at all. Voters in record numbers are using absentee ballots and Los Angeles is warning them their ballots may not make it back in time, so they should be hand delivered.

In three other states, ‘vote flipping’ has occurred; this is when you vote one way and the machine records it the opposite way. Only if a voting officer is present at that precinct at that time can this be reversed. Otherwise, you just voted for Sarah Palin.

Colorado:

Voters rights groups have sued to reinstate 30,000 names that have been removed from voting rolls, arguing their removal violates Federal law prohibiting such an action within 90 days of a federal election.

Florida:

Not only is Florida one of five states named in a complaint by the Justice Department to have engaged in misconduct related to minority voting, but 10,000 voters there are stuck on a list requiring them to be ‘identity checked’ on or before election day.

Georgia:

A Federal panel of judges ruled election officials need Justice Department approval to check voters immigration status but did not stop them from doing so.

Indiana:

Republicans are trying to shut down early voting, alleging fraud.

Michigan:

A federal judge ordered  election officials to cease removing voters from the rolls when their mail was returned by the Postal Service as undeliverable.

Mississippi:

Another of the ‘minority voting misconduct five’

Montana:

The Democrats had to sue to halt challenges to the eligability of 6,000 voters. A federal judge found the challenges to have been ‘frivolous’.

New Jersey:

Another of the ‘minority voting misconduct five’.

Ohio:

State Republican Party leaders are ‘negotiating’ with election officials about 200,000 voters whose data doesn’t exactly match with other forms of their records. Can you say, ‘TYPO‘?

Pennsylvania:

Civil rights groups filed suit to have emergency paper ballots on hand on election day in the event of voter machine ‘malfunction‘.

South Carolina:

Another of the ‘minority voting misconduct five’.

Tennessee:

Another of the ‘minority voting misconduct five’ as well as ‘disenfranchisement of overseas military voters’.

Virginia:

The NAACP has filed suit against Governor Tim Kaine, saying adequate preparations were not made to accomodate record numbers of new voters. The NAACP wants the Federal Government be put in charge of the election.

Wisconsin:

A Judge in Dane County threw out  a lawsuit by the State Attorney General that wanted election officials to validate the I.D. of hundreds of thousands of new voters by election day- appeal pending!

Now, take a look at Yahoo! news- it shows McCain to be ‘catching up’. Uh, yeah, sure, with Obama doing half-hour shows and millions upon millions of dollars pouring in to Obama in small contributions from little guys, a consistent double-digit lead, the economy in the tank -literally- record breaking new young voters, and Palin caught for more corruption on a daily basis. Does anyone really believe McCain could be within a hundred million votes? Not on your life, so don’t you believe it for a minute.

Republicans own the media and they intend to steal this election.

For EarthSourceMedia, I’m joey racano saying, “Everything is fine- all we need are some outside election observers. May I suggest Obrador, Ahmedinejad and Tony Montana? Goodnight and go with grace”.  

(Washington DC, 4:15 a.m.)

Ring-ring!!  Ring-ring!!

“Cookie the Bookie, what’s your horse?”

“Cookie? It’s ‘Deep Pockets’.

“Yes suh, Mr. Ro.. -I mean Deep Pockets’ -what can I do ya for?”

“Oh, it’s Stanley and his boy J.C. at ‘the Bear’ - I think they went too far this time- anyway, listen…remember that bimbo we set up with Eliot the Spitball? With the pierced tongue, belly-button and you said could suck a cinderbrick through a 20′ garden hose? We still got that film?”

“Yessir Karl- I mean…”

“Shutthehekkup and listen, french-fry brain! I need that shit to come out in the news, and I need it to come out, like, yesterday- so call Rupert and tell him, well, just call Rupert, and he’ll know what to do, Kabish?”

“Yessir, Mr.-”

“Pssshhhtt!”

*click*

Bloomberg

Wall Street Executives Made $3 Billion Before Crisis (Update1)

By Tom Randall and Jamie McGee

Sept. 26 (Bloomberg) — Wall Street’s five biggest firms paid more than $3 billion in the last five years to their top executives, while they presided over the packaging and sale of loans that helped bring down the investment-banking system.

Merrill Lynch & Co. paid its chief executives the most, with Stanley O’Neal taking in $172 million from 2003 to 2007 and John Thain getting $86 million, including a signing bonus, after beginning work in December. The company agreed to be acquired by Bank of America Corp. for about $50 billion on Sept. 15. Bear Stearns Cos.’s James “Jimmy” Cayne made $161 million before the company collapsed and was sold to JPMorgan Chase & Co. in June.

Democrats and Republicans in Congress are demanding that limits be placed on executive pay as part of the $700 billion financial rescue plan proposed by U.S. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson. The former Goldman Sachs Group Inc. CEO, who received about $111 million between 2003 and 2006, said in testimony to Congress on Sept. 24 that he would accept such limits as part of the plan, after initially opposing them.

“Shareholders and boards should have done something about this a long time ago,” said Charles Elson, director of the Weinberg Center for Corporate Governance at the University of Delaware in Newark. “They justified these levels of pay on the idea that they’re all geniuses. I think that balloon has burst.”

Wall Street firms have shared profits liberally with employees. The five biggest — Goldman, Morgan Stanley, Merrill, Lehman Brothers Holdings Inc. and Bear Stearns — paid their 185,687 employees $66 billion in 2007, as problems with subprime mortgages mounted, including about $39 billion in bonuses. That amounts to average pay of $353,089 per employee, including an average bonus of $211,849. The five firms had combined net income of $93 billion during the five years through 2007.

CEO Pay Doubled

The $3.1 billion paid to the top five executives at the firms between 2003 and 2007 was about three times what JPMorgan spent to buy Bear Stearns. Goldman Sachs had the highest total, with $859 million, followed by Bear Stearns at $609 million. CEO pay at the five firms increased each year, doubling to $253 million in 2007, according to data compiled from company filings.

Executive-compensat ion figures include salary, bonuses, stock and stock options, some awarded for past performance. The options were valued at a third of the fair-market price of the stock at the time the options were granted, a method recommended by Graef Crystal, a compensation specialist and author of the Crystal Report on Executive Compensation, an online newsletter. The companies value the options using different methods.

`Make It Rain’

Wall Street firms have paid employees a greater share of revenue than any other industry, about 50 percent, Crystal said. That tradition at investment banks comes from their history as closely held partnerships of investors who put their own capital at risk, he said.

“In Wall Street and Hollywood, the profits tend to come in great big packets, and everyone wants a piece,” said Crystal, a former Bloomberg columnist. “Whether it’s the movie `Dark Knight’ or a huge merger deal, he who can make it rain, he who can bring everyone to the theater, can earn whatever he wants.”

Until the rain stops.

Lehman Brothers filed for the biggest bankruptcy in history on Sept. 15, with more than $613 billion in debt. The same day, Merrill Lynch was sold to Bank of America for $29 a share, about 70 percent below the stock’s high of $97.53 on Jan. 24, 2007.

Goldman and Morgan Stanley, the two biggest independent U.S. investment banks, were forced to convert to bank holding companies, giving them more access to Federal Reserve funds and buying time to acquire deposits. Goldman Chief Executive Officer Lloyd Blankfein made $57.6 million in 2007 in salary and bonus, which includes stock and options granted at the beginning of the fiscal year to reward performance the previous year. Co- presidents Gary Cohn and Jon Winkelried each got $56 million.

`Tied to Performance’

Morgan Stanley’s current and former chief executives, John Mack and Philip Purcell, were paid about $194 million over the last five years.

Mark Lake, a spokesman for Morgan Stanley, pointed to Mack’s decision not to take a bonus for 2007 and said the $1.6 million in salary and other compensation he was awarded last year isn’t “a lot” compared with other Wall Street CEOs.

“He has taken everything he had since rejoining the firm in equity, other than salary,” Lake said. “There’s a difference in taking stock in the firm as a bonus and taking cash. Stock in the firm, obviously you are tied to performance of the firm.”

Goldman Sachs spokesman Michael Duvally declined to comment. Merrill Lynch spokeswoman Jessica Oppenheim, JPMorgan spokesman Brian Marchiony and Lehman spokeswoman Monique Wise didn’t return calls for comment.

Paulson, Bush

“The American people are angry about executive compensation, and rightfully so,” Paulson told a House panel on Sept. 24, departing from his prepared remarks. “We must find a way to address this in the legislation, but without undermining the effectiveness of this program.”

President George W. Bush said that night in a televised address to the nation that the plan would provide “urgently needed money so banks and other financial institutions can avoid collapse” and “should make certain that failed executives do not receive a windfall from your tax dollars.”

Congressional Republicans splintered late yesterday over the proposed $700 billion rescue plan. Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid said this morning at a news conference that Democrats are circulating a draft of legislation that contains limits on executive compensation and ensures that Congress has oversight over the bailout. Lawmakers from both parties are meeting again today in Washington.

Weak Record

The U.S. government has a weak record when it comes to regulating compensation, said Kevin Murphy, a professor of finance at the Marshall School of Business at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles.

“Every government attempt that has existed to limit or regulate CEO pay has backfired,” Murphy said. “I’m fairly confident this one will backfire too. There are always loopholes.”

Regulation of golden parachutes, or protection for executives in the case of an acquisition, were circumvented in the 1980s with severance agreements, and Nixon’s wage-and-price- control experiment in the 1970s ultimately failed, Murphy said.

“It’s either the compensation committee or the general counsel or the head of human resources who are trying to negotiate a pay package with someone who will be their boss in a week,” he said. “These are things that can be done a lot better.”

Corporate Governance

Rather than government regulation, the solution is in better corporate governance, Elson said. Companies should negotiate more aggressively with executives and should establish rules that encourage shareholders to protest excessive pay. The rescue package is not the place to have that debate, he said.

“This will get in the way” of passing the $700 billion financial rescue legislation, Elson said. “We are in a crisis. The patient is dying. Let’s work on the details as soon as we get the patient out of the emergency room when we can do it in a thoughtful or deliberate manner.”

Not all Wall Street CEOs have escaped unscathed. Cayne sold a Bear Stearns holding once worth $1 billion for $61 million in March. Lehman’s Chief Executive Officer Richard Fuld, who made $165 million between 2003 and 2007, sold 2.88 million of his firm’s shares for 16 cents to 30 cents apiece, or less than $500,000, according to a regulatory filing.

Fuld owned 10.9 million shares and restricted stock units as of Jan. 31, valued at $931 million at their peak. He also had in- the-money options and other stock worth almost $300 million, according to Crystal.

To contact the reporter on this story: Tom Randall in New York at trandall6@bloomberg .net; Jamie McGee in New York at jmcgee8@bloomberg. net.
Last Updated: September 26, 2008 13:56 EDT

~It has been said that it doesn’t matter what bad press or scandal you get yourself into, because the public’s memory only goes back 6 months. Well, public, about six months ago, you may remember the sad news conferences showing the once-proud Eliot Spitzer with his family stoicly by his side, conceding to the world he had done wrong.

But, in light of the financial meltdown, EarthSourceMedia thought it to be vitally important to rehash the reason the entire sordid call-girl information was released to the public by an angry Bush administration. It was an attempt to destroy this man of integrity (with a weakness for a tan, shapely young dancer) for having the audacity to call a spade a spade; the Bush cabal and it’s beloved housing sector was engaged in preditory lending. A nation-wide economy of organized crime that would lead to the most severe economic meltdown in the history of the modern world.

Here is the story, written by Spitzer, that might have sounded the alarm to save us, but instead brought a good man’s world -and eventually an entire nation- crashing down:

Predatory Lenders’ Partner in Crime

How the Bush Administration Stopped the States From Stepping In to Help Consumers

By Eliot Spitzer

Thursday, February 14, 2008; Page A25

Several years ago, state attorneys general and others involved in consumer protection began to notice a marked increase in a range of predatory lending practices by mortgage lenders. Some were misrepresenting the terms of loans, making loans without regard to consumers’ ability to repay, making loans with deceptive “teaser” rates that later ballooned astronomically, packing loans with undisclosed charges and fees, or even paying illegal kickbacks. These and other practices, we noticed, were having a devastating effect on home buyers. In addition, the widespread nature of these practices, if left unchecked, threatened our financial markets.

Even though predatory lending was becoming a national problem, the Bush administration looked the other way and did nothing to protect American homeowners. In fact, the government chose instead to align itself with the banks that were victimizing consumers.

Predatory lending was widely understood to present a looming national crisis. This threat was so clear that as New York attorney general, I joined with colleagues in the other 49 states in attempting to fill the void left by the federal government. Individually, and together, state attorneys general of both parties brought litigation or entered into settlements with many subprime lenders that were engaged in predatory lending practices. Several state legislatures, including New York’s, enacted laws aimed at curbing such practices.

What did the Bush administration do in response? Did it reverse course and decide to take action to halt this burgeoning scourge? As Americans are now painfully aware, with hundreds of thousands of homeowners facing foreclosure and our markets reeling, the answer is a resounding no.

Not only did the Bush administration do nothing to protect consumers, it embarked on an aggressive and unprecedented campaign to prevent states from protecting their residents from the very problems to which the federal government was turning a blind eye.

Let me explain: The administration accomplished this feat through an obscure federal agency called the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (OCC). The OCC has been in existence since the Civil War. Its mission is to ensure the fiscal soundness of national banks. For 140 years, the OCC examined the books of national banks to make sure they were balanced, an important but uncontroversial function. But a few years ago, for the first time in its history, the OCC was used as a tool against consumers.

In 2003, during the height of the predatory lending crisis, the OCC invoked a clause from the 1863 National Bank Act to issue formal opinions preempting all state predatory lending laws, thereby rendering them inoperative. The OCC also promulgated new rules that prevented states from enforcing any of their own consumer protection laws against national banks. The federal government’s actions were so egregious and so unprecedented that all 50 state attorneys general, and all 50 state banking superintendents, actively fought the new rules.

But the unanimous opposition of the 50 states did not deter, or even slow, the Bush administration in its goal of protecting the banks. In fact, when my office opened an investigation of possible discrimination in mortgage lending by a number of banks, the OCC filed a federal lawsuit to stop the investigation.

Throughout our battles with the OCC and the banks, the mantra of the banks and their defenders was that efforts to curb predatory lending would deny access to credit to the very consumers the states were trying to protect. But the curbs we sought on predatory and unfair lending would have in no way jeopardized access to the legitimate credit market for appropriately priced loans. Instead, they would have stopped the scourge of predatory lending practices that have resulted in countless thousands of consumers losing their homes and put our economy in a precarious position.

When history tells the story of the subprime lending crisis and recounts its devastating effects on the lives of so many innocent homeowners, the Bush administration will not be judged favorably. The tale is still unfolding, but when the dust settles, it will be judged as a willing accomplice to the lenders who went to any lengths in their quest for profits. So willing, in fact, that it used the power of the federal government in an unprecedented assault on state legislatures, as well as on state attorneys general and anyone else on the side of consumers.

The writer is governor of New York.