I gotta post this: Really well written
This oil spill shows our addiction is madness — it is time to act
Simon Barnes
I love a good oil spill. With a really good oil spill, every possibility of ambiguity is vanquished. With an oil spill, there really is no “on the other hand”. An oil spill is plainly, unremittingly, remorselessly dreadful. I love a good oil spill because there is not a single good thing that can be said about it.
I’ve been to one. I was in West Wales when the
Sea Empress went down in 1996. The sweet smell that hung in the air wasn’t even unpleasant, just hideously unnatural. A scent that told you fast as intuition that the world was out of joint.
I saw three or four ducks flying over the roofs. If you were any kind of birder you could feel the awfulness of this event. These ducks were scoters, sea ducks, and they never, ever, fly over land. Their minds had been scrambled by the terrible things that had happened to the place they live in.
On the beach I saw another scoter swimming along gamely. It was up to its neck. This was a duck, for God’s sake, the most buoyant thing on the planet, and it was going down with all hands, going down even as the stinking black treacle oozed on to the shore. No one, human or duck, could be in any two minds about the matter. It was awful.
It is even more awful as the great slick slithers across the Gulf of Mexico and starts to devastate the coast of the southern United States. I’ve been there, too. I saw brown pelicans, majestic aeronauts with comic-book beaks, and roseate spoonbills, bright pink birds with a beak like a ladle. Both species, along with many others, are going to cop it from the oil.
We have a dreadful oil spill, and we say, oh, this is dreadful, and dreadful it is. And then a few years pass and we have another one. We don’t seem to be making much progress. In the United States, they had the spill from the
Exxon Valdez as far back as 1989.
You’d have thought that any country would do anything to stop such a thing happening again, but here it is, happening again. It’s a different format of disaster — this is a rig, not a ship — but it’s the same old oil, and it’s here for the same old reason: because safety precautions are insufficient. It is more important to get oil than to stop occasional wallops of it polluting the world.
These spills concentrate the mind, at least for a while. They tell us that our addiction to oil is madness, that our short-term thinking is madness, that our reckless approach to containment — oil at any price — is madness. Treasure this spill: it is a rare occasion on which we can see this essential truth of the way we run our lives with absolute clarity.
We crave oil as the junkie craves his fix, and like the junkie, we will put up with anything to get it. But even for an addict, there come moments of searing clarity. A sudden revelation that this is actually a stupid way to live life. Well, the spill tells us that this is a stupid way to run our planet.
It threatens the continued existence of brown pelican Pelecanus occidentalis, roseate spoonbill Platalea ajaja and human being
Homo sapiens. Perhaps it’s time we did something about it.
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I don't think anything sums it up better. I
this guy!!
And it brings this to mind. You youngin's like me remember this?
I know that those of you who have lived here a long time must feel like you are about to lose an old friend to a dreaded disease and wondering when it will hit. 
