This site has some extremely cool photos and commentary of the California drought and wildfires currently ravaging our state.
There is also commentary on the insanity of California towns and cities which insist on adding more and more new homes when they have no idea if there is enough water for the new residents. It is in areas like this that capitalism fails most miserably and government in capitalist countries never seems to step up to the plate. Capitalist countries seem determined to suicidally “grow themselves to death.” It is like they are making a rope made up of twine from shredded up dollar bills and hanging themselves with it. With all the other awful things about greed, it is starting to become obvious to me that greed is also outright suicidal, an analysis that I have not seen much about.
Speaking of suicidal, the farmers in the Central Valley continue to over-pump groundwater like mad. The state previously had no regulations whatsoever on groundwater and was unique among Western states in that regard. Even ultraright states like Idaho and Utah have better groundwater regulations than we do! Governor Brown just signed a new groundwater bill but it is truly pitiful in that it doesn’t go nearly far enough to regulate groundwater in this lunatic state.
Apparently farmers are suicidal too. These crazy farmers will keep pumping that groundwater until there’s not a drop left and then the whole valley will dry up. Then the farmers will bitch and scream and demand to suck every river in the state dry. These farmers here are some of the stupidest and most reactionary and evil farmers in the US, and I am certain that they could easily commit agricultural suicide by draining the groundwater.
Over on the East Side, the land is sinking as much as 2 inches per month. Excuse me, but that is absolutely insane.
Here is a comment on the article:
Nin, It’s that terrible spectre, Growth. It’s had the whole planet under its spell so long that this self-created tyranny no longer discloses its true face, all we get to see is the frenetic race to doom, the spread of the contagion, business as usual.
John Keats, who had had medical training, had watched his mother and younger brother die of t.b., knew its course all too intimately, and was probably already aware of its symptomatic approach by this time, third week of April 1819. He asked of poetry that it be “felt on the pulse”. The pulse by this time is weakening, erratic, feverish. The production mills of the market are squirreling away their nuts, yet here he is, fading, failing, distracted, falling out of the busy world’s getting & spending picture —
On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here…
I saw those vacationers with their beach gear at dry, growth-choked Folsom Lake as today’s recreational sojourners, the consumption component in the economic cycle, sojourners, insatiable, passing through and using up but not staying long enough to check out the devastation endured by the doomed natives of the island.