If you were living under a dome - say on a space colony or an earth-based sci-fi series - would you be ok with people dumping waste, releasing green-house gases (and remember, the dome is basically a greenhouse itself!), leaving huge piles of garbage around, etc etc?
Not a chance. Because you know that you’re in the dome with them and it’s gonna harm you too, even if you don’t see it right away. Living in the dome, you gotta live a sustainable lifestyle.
And yet, Earth is essentially the same thing.
If people dump toxic waste in the water, fill the air with greenhouse gases and other poisonous garbage like mercury, dump unprecedented amounts of garbage (that doesn’t even decompose!), Frack the ground which leads to poisoned water and air and unstable ground, that affects everyone in the dome.
And yeah, it’s a big dome. An Earth-sized dome. But it’s also filled with an Earth-sized amount of people, and right now it’s getting more pollution in it than an Earth-sized system can handle. It doesn’t matter where in the dome you dump this crap, eventually it jeopardizes everyone in the dome.
P.s. Bernie is the only one who is giving environmental issues the amount of concern and attention they deserve.
- The fact that Chris Jericho and Dean Ambrose are friends, and that these pictures exist make me so happy. Dean had been on some pretty interesting episodes of Jericho’s podcast. I just had to recreate these moments with my figures.
Azurite nodule pair from the Mikheyevskoy deposit, Chelyabinsk region in South Ural, Russia. With such an incredible color, it’s no surprise that ground Azurite has been used as a pigment since antiquity. Azurite is unstable in open air, and eventually (over many centuries) it weathers into Malachite- in some very old paintings the Azurite blues have actually become more green as the mineral weathered into Malachite. Pretty cool fact! (But not cool for the Artists original vision, I guess.) DDX-276, $396
30 thousand feet of unstable air now separates the earth and me. This pillbox fuselage hurdling east does so on a tailwind of lost time. I, the reluctant yet complicit junkie of a new media culture now scramble for a signal in this once protected space. Coming up empty, I find myself alone with a screen, a keyboard and an opportunity. Moments before this flight departed, the renegade vessel I assembled to reconnect my creative wires to the masses loaded the catapult with new music once again. This drill has become something of a weekly terror for me. Under the cover of darkness I clawed my way through a mission; New sounds, new words, new truth all strung together by the tenuous threads of collaboration to reconstitute a new version of me. With each passing week I come closer to that mission’s unveiling and with each week I find another piece of my clothing stripped away. Does any of it really matter? In the grand scheme of things…No. So why? Why do it? Why do anything? I suppose, because I must. I’m hungry; hungry for the alchemy, hungry for the praise. Hungry for the feeling that I am not alone with these thoughts. Hungry to be a human in a universe that recognizes myself in my neighbors. I made a choice a lifetime ago; a choice to broadcast. To take everything I could confess in a quiet room, mold it with melodies and simple structures and turn it over to anyone who would listen. What a wild notion. Still, as with any object, form, thought, or idea this universe can conjure, what I do falls into two categories. It is at one moment a miracle and in another completely irrelevant and fleeting.
Yesterday I walked my sleepless, 7 month old daughter to the beach in a contraption that makes it possible for me to do so without the use of my arms. A device that effectively binds us together as a single mass in hopes that she might forget she is a lump of rapidly dividing cells in a world too expansive for either of us to comprehend. In doing so, she is able to synch to the rhythm of my gait and the rhythm of my hopeful calm. If the timing is right, she falls asleep and I become the ears and eyes for both of us. By the time we reached the bluffs she had given in. I was free to scan the beach below and the seas beyond, where young men, far braver than I, used the turning ocean tides as a playground for unthinkable feats. Despite this masterful display I was taken by the sight of two women occupying a blanket to the right of a lifeguard tower. Perhaps it was their shapes that drew me in but it was the motion of those shapes that caused me to linger. As my daughter dreamed, her nose and mouth pressed firmly against my chest, heaving humid breaths passed my shirt to my skin, I was reminded of the world she will grow up in. As the shapes below obsessively posed and reposed themselves before their own extended arms, hoping to construct the perfect image of their already perfect selves, I became aware of a game I have played for years. I too, have attempted to project an image of myself to the world, worthy of my own self image. The beauty of this game is that much like the culture I now count myself a part of, my construction is only evidence of my insecurity. The tailored images we edit, magnify and broadcast only prove our imperfection; Our weakness before the gods, our failings and successes in the face of a nature far greater than all of us combined. As I zeroed in on the sands below I paused. In one breath I was horrified for my little girl to grow up in this and in the next I was heartened that she would be gifted with such an opportunity. The next breath reminded me that as everything changes, everything remains exactly as it was. This is the reality I meet head on as I slingshot these songs and my kin into a new world.
The images fade and I take a sip of my cocktail. The simple, potent concoction reaches my lips and thinning blood as the flight attendant leans in to remind me, the wifi is now up and running.
This year’s flower season in the eastern Columbia River Gorge has been the worst I’ve seen in eight years of making the annual pilgrimage out there to shoot them.. It appears the Pacific Northwest’s insanely warm and sunny winter weather pushed the balsamroot much too early. Most are small or beaten up from wind so it takes a lot of searching to find patches healthy enough to use. On this evening I watched the forecast closely as an unstable air mass cleared out– the perfect setup for sunset color. At the last minute I grabbed my gear and went out. It poured buckets for 40 miles on the drive out, creating a lot of doubt in mind about my decision to make a last minute dash. A few miles from the trailhead the solid sheet of rain eased and the stratus layer broke. In the end I was treated to one of the better sky shows I’ve seen in the eastern Gorge. After a lot of running, and a what seemed luck dumb luck, I finally stumbled upon this little patch of semi-healthy balsamroot close to a character filled tree. It made the whole trip worth it.
For for those who may be interested I recently opened an Instagram
account where I will be posting content beyond what I’d post here.
I still have some newer images on my website which I haven’t posted yet. Feel free to check it out.
high res (0.7 M) low res (49 K)
ISS016-E-027426 (5 Feb. 2008) — Cumulonimbus Cloud over Africa
is featured in this image photographed by an Expedition 16 crew member
on the International Space Station. Deemed by many meteorologists as one
of the most impressive of cloud formations, cumulonimbus (from the
Latin for “puffy” and “dark”) clouds form due to vigorous convection of
warm and moist unstable air. Surface air warmed by the Sun-heated ground
surface rises, and if sufficient atmospheric moisture is present, water
droplets will condense as the air mass encounters cooler air at higher
altitudes. The air mass itself also expands and cools as it rises due to
decreasing atmospheric pressure, a process known as adiabatic cooling.
September 9, 2016: The moment leading up to #storm development is always a fascinating time to watch the #atmosphere do its thing. For storms to form, you need an unstable atmosphere (colder air above warm air) along with a lifting mechanism to lift that warm air into and through the unstable air. As the warm and moist air rises and condenses into clouds, it becomes so heavy it falls back to the earth as #rain. This is the basic #thunderstorm formation process. Always fascinating! #lightning #weather #sky #storms #stormy #nature #natureza #atmosphere #mothernature #skylovers #instaweather #instaweatherpro #clouds #cloud #storms #fb #stormyweather #badweather #lightningstrike #nakedplanet #earthpix #natgeo #igsky http://ift.tt/2cwECRf