Don't Be Like Jeannie B

Do you know the worst thing about being smart? Did you just say ‘no’? Well that’s the joke, it’s a one-liner. Just like the old Irish joke: two Irishmen walk by a bar.

The worst thing about being smart, as far as I can tell, is that you pretty much always know what’s going to happen next. Not a lot of surprises in the world, which could explain why smart people spend so much time in bars; a lot of genius in this town.

It’s hard to stay positive once you realize how mismanaged this planet is, and if it takes a pint now and then to keep on keeping on, then I, for one, say, “To all my friends!” Benjamin Franklin summed it up pretty well, and he was kind of a smart fella, “Wine, a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.”

In a world where our food is regulated by the same guys who stand to win or lose at the profit sharing picnic table, and our public land advocacy agencies (“BLM stands for Beef, Lumber & Mining” –MM) really just exist as playthings for Oil & Gas companies, it’s nice to step into a dark room now and then and drink something bubbly with one’s mates.

Especially in a town where our trusted Trustees voted for a well-known Texan’s plan to draw art lovers to Carbondale but not to sell the art within the town limits so that we would receive the sales tax revenue. And what’s this I hear about voting for more ‘dry’ events in our beloved mountain town? Are we sure Foulkrod understood the question? I’m going to have to knock some sense into him while I knock some back, if you know what I mean…

I can think of a lot of things this town needs: an Old West themed hotel with a saloon on the ground floor that opens to Main Street through swinging shutter doors, a taxi service for those who’ve imbibed in said saloon, street performers dressed like Val Kilmer in Silverado, the list goes on and on… But less alcohol in the hands of legal-drinking-age adults is not one of them. All this vote really did was cost CCAH some cash, not only in alcohol sales but also in the fewer amount of participants because they’ll all be in the bar, where they serve alcohol.

As a country, we’ve already tried Prohibition and it didn’t work out so well; in fact, nothing that restricts personal freedom seems to stick. And now, finally, thanks to some old guys who wear robes to work, we are closer to marriage equality for everyone in the land of the free.

It’s been said many times in many ways: Be cool, honey bunny. Live and let live. Don’t like abortion? Don’t have one. Ok, maybe that last one’s a bit off-track… but the point is don’t be like Jeannie Bueller in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (one of the all-time best movies ever made!) Jeannie is Ferris’s sister and she can’t let it go that Ferris is ditching classes until she meets Charlie Sheen in the police station: (Seriously, one of the top ten cameos of all time)

What do you care if your brother ditches school?

Why should he get to ditch when everybody else has to go?

You could ditch.

Yeah, I’d get caught.

Then your problem is you.

As I see it, alcohol doesn’t solve problems; but neither does banning it. And now’s as good a time as any to resurrect the ‘Barmuda triangle’ between the Pour House, Townperiod, and the Nugget. Maybe I’m just nostalgic for old times, but I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to see the Disneyfication* of our Main Street. I’m no Wile E. Coyote, but even I can tell ya that’s one surefire way to get the tourists running, all the way out of town and up to Basalt where they can quench their thirst.

*Until last year there were no alcoholic beverage sales at Disneyland, as per Walt’s wishes. Which made perfect sense since it is a theme park for children.

Dining with El Diablo

I don’t believe in the devil. Or I should say I didn’t believe in the devil, until recently when I watched an independent film about Monsanto. Now I agree with my friend Pat Fender, they are El Diablo.

Here’s the deal, their seeds are engineered to grow despite being sprayed by Round Up (which, of course, is a Monsanto product) and Monsanto uses corruption, intimidation, sabotage, whatever means are necessary to spread their seeds all over the world. Also, Round Up (and, it stands to reason, their transgenic seed that can survive Round Up) gives you cancer —luckily I’m not a scientist, so I don’t have to watch it happen in a room full of mice in order to say it. Here’s what the scientist who watched it happen in a room full of mice said, “Round Up provokes the first stages that lead to cancer.” – Robert Bellé. The good news is— Oh wait, there is no good news. Monsanto will charge farmers whatever price they decide for the seeds, as well as collect royalties when the crop comes in; essentially turning all the farmers into indentured servants.

“Monsanto is trying to take away our right to not eat their food.” – Caroline Alberino.

On Monsanto’s website they proclaim that GMO crops will ease world-wide hunger and end famine, but that is a crock of organic horse apples. Small farmers are being driven out from Indiana to India by Monsanto, and if they don’t kill themselves then they are bankrupted and forced to move to the city to look for work. Being poor and living in a city is entirely different from being poor and living on a farm.

One big difference is the ‘revolving doors’ way in which big city guys conduct their business. Picture a revolving door with three suits inside, we’ll call them Industry, Regulation and Legislation. After awhile, watching them all go around and around, we tend to get bored and look elsewhere… distracted by a hot dog vendor perhaps. That is exactly what is going on right now with Monsanto, and it has been since before Reagan had Alzheimer’s. By patenting the seeds Monsanto is “in the process of owning food. All food.” – Troy Roush.

They don’t even try to hide it anymore like when Nixon was in office… From a Washington Post article by Elizabeth Flock:

            In 2009, President Obama appointed Michael Taylor as a senior adviser for the FDA. Consumer groups protested the appointment because Taylor had formerly served as a vice president for Monsanto, the controversial agricultural multinational at the forefront of genetically modified food.

Hey Monsanto: quit trying to get in my plants! That was my sign’s message at the March Against Monsanto on May 25^th. Granted, there were more people skiing in Aspen than marching that day, but we do what we can. And we did pick up a few new marchers along the way, which is better than wearing snow pants in 70 degree weather and eating cancer-causing corn on the cob. Speaking of corn on the cob, the United States currently sends subsidized shipments of GMO corn to Mexico, driving down the price of local corn and contaminating the ancient source of corn varieties.

Teresa Camou is producing a film titled Sunnú about the struggle and determination of the indigenous northern Mexican communities to preserve their native corn seed and way of life. The 90-minute documentary will both reveal and explain the fate of this crucial seed at its source and the imminent threat to the sustainability, heritage and overall lives of its ancient caretakers due to climate change, the introduction of GMO corn plantations in Mexico, and NAFTA farming practices. For more information visit: Sunnú.org*

Monsanto’s next commercial should be a rip off of the old Beef ads: Cancer, it’s what’s for dinner. Then they can partner with Eli Lilly and sell us both the cause and the cure. Al Pacino’s character in The Devil’s Advocate, i.e., The Devil, would be so proud.

*Alejandra Rico

All quotes are from the film The World According to Monsanto, with the exception of Caroline Alberino’s which was said aloud at March Against Monsanto.

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/the-world-according-to-monsanto/

Change Your Pants, Change Your Life

My favorite coffee shop tip jar sign reads: ‘Fear Change? Then leave it here!’ Change is constant and, I believe, as necessary as oxygen or water to our survival. Without change we have stagnation, and with stagnation comes apathy; the next thing you know, you’re watching soap operas all day in your pajama bottoms and the mosquitos are buzzing.

What a change we’ve seen in leading men just in my lifetime. From Rick Springfield (who had already been on General Hospital for like ten years) to Justin Bieber (who looks like he is ten years old.) I mean, Magnum P.I. could kick the shit out of Team Wolf or Team Vampire, even with their special glow in the sunlight powers. Magnum was a Navy Seal, don’t forget, and he and Rick were always getting caught up in bar fights that weren’t their fault. Well, maybe they were Rick’s fault— he was kind of a slut.

The point is, what a difference a few decades can make. And not just in entertainment: equal rights, fashion, energy, organic food— of course, that last one’s a remake. Back in the black and white days they didn’t have to pay more for real food, it was their food. Adding preservatives to what we eat is a fairly new idea (and about as good of one as bell bottoms, I might add.)

Benzene in our water, fish in our tomatoes, what is going on around here?! “Where the hell’s the records room?!” –Dr Rosenpenis. The bees won’t pollinate our crops because they are genetically modified, we’re building leaky pipelines through our backyards to send oil to China, and we are still waiting for some Americans to catch up with the class in respect to equality in the law. To those people who think the business of marriage should be accessible only to heterosexuals, I say: “Get over yourselves, in the name of the ‘Mother, the Son and the Holy Ghost!” – AW (It should be the Mother, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I mean those are the major players, right?)

We have got to get to the next level already, and we don’t have time for the Muggles to pack up their oppressive, cave-day ideas and bring them along. Imagine life on Earth is a video game (it does seem to be how an awful lot of people spend their free time…) It’s time to slay the dragon once and for all and move up to the level of clean energy, equal rights and floating cupcakes for everyone. And this time let’s pick an energy source with a smaller margin of human error and less room for greed to get its grubby little fingers on every point of sale.

“Today’s energy system is not just inefficient; it is also disconnected, aging, dirty and insecure.” – Amory Lovins.

Just like those women who walk around Aspen in their fur coats and rubber lips. Speaking of Aspen, I was up there delivering this fine publication a couple of weeks ago, and I was told that there is no need to leave Sopris Suns in the Hotel Jerome anymore. They don’t want us to squander our resources, seeing as we are a ‘smaller operation.’ (That’s how sycophants to the uber-rich say ‘take a hike’.) So I just want to let everyone know that you will no longer be able to read about upcoming events at the Wheeler Opera House or see a picture of Middle Schoolers on a field trip in the Hotel Jerome lobby, but I’m sure the billionaires will appreciate having more room for their daily real estate ads. There’s a cliché: the more things change, the more they stay the same. And then there’s Aspen…

But be sure to look for local news, images and opinion when you stay with the Inn at Aspen. Remember when it was a Holiday Inn? Complete with Magic Fingers vibrating beds and that freaky psychedelic carpet in the seemingly endless hallways… Ah, the good ole days, back when the Bee Gees were still around. Not to mention the bees.

Keeping billionaires as pets can be dangerous

Carbondale’s been a home away from second home for billionaires for quite a while now, and it’s always the same old story; we’re like a new pet let in from the cold and given a nice spot by the fire, all cute and fuzzy and spoiled until we pee on the carpet— then we’re booted right back out into the cold.

Our billionaires have it pretty good; buying and swapping land with each other for a dollar like Randolph and Mortimer Duke, while avoiding too much contact with the Village of Small Merchants and Non Profits. It’s like my husband always says at weddings, “our presence is present enough.” But now there’s a new player at the table and I’m curious to see if the stakes are raised when a Democrat antes in. Hopefully she’ll be a breath of fresh air, like opening a window in a room full of cigar smoke and cheese straws. A metaphorical Al Czervik come to buy Bushwood, if you will (we could use a Ty Webb as well, maybe T Boone Pickens is in the market for a cute little 5,000 square foot cabin.)

Not that I want to see Carbondale turn into a toy town for crazy billionaires (like another mountain town I used to live in) but a little investment could go a long way towards keeping Carbondale a Great Place to Be! The potential is exciting; not only can we be frack-free, but we could keep our hiking and biking trails and teach seminars in our zero-footprint hotel and conference center on How to Peacefully Cohabitate with Hippies, Punks, Cowboys and Ladies Underwear Salesmen.

There is enough room for everyone, and just because you don’t want to associate with the general public, (and who can blame you? Tromping around in their primary colors and big brimmed hats…) doesn’t mean you should hire Western Land Group to strategize a way to kick people off of public land.

I’ve said it before, (but I’ve been told I’m a three-times-sayer) the thing that makes Carbondale cool is that everyone has fun here: “The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids, dweebies, dickheads…” –Grace. And that was the case long before the billionaires showed up with their fixers trying to redistribute the skittles. We didn’t need their money to start the rodeo, or Potato Day, or Mountain Fair. We found our favorite hot springs and hiking trails without them, and we certainly don’t need them to ‘save the open space’ for us. All we need is a Bureau of Land Management with some cojones. Pardon my French, but I’m sick of rich people buying up raw land and then giving it a mani/pedi.

Wild spaces need privacy too. And it’s pretty evident we can’t rely on the white man to preserve anything except gated communities called The Preserve. Where are the billionaires who want to leave land exactly as it is? I mean, they can’t all have unresolved childhood issues that make them unwilling to share. It’s like a game of candy from the baby. They are literally taking public land (candy) away from us (the baby) and no one says a damn thing.

Well, except for a couple of Open Space and Trails Trustees in Pitkin County named Annie and Hawk. They said something, and they used public access to hike on public land and they got prosecuted by the US Forest Service. Then, at the eleventh hour (Friday before the Monday start of trial) the judge threw out the case. Annie thinks the citations “were an attempt to intimidate people to stay out of there.”

There are two ways for our Billionaires to purchase public land:

1. Legislative, when they convince a federal bureaucrat to do the paperwork, i.e., write a bill (I bet we’d be surprised at how popular ladies underwear is in our mostly male Congress…)

2. Administrative, when they convince a local bureaucrat to do the paperwork. Techniques may vary, anywhere from back scratching to providing misinformation to intimidation and fear of federal prosecution.

Whatever it takes. Because at the end of the game, the one with the most candy wins, right?

Golden Rule

Last week I went to Silt for a BLM meeting about drilling on top of the Roan Plateau, and I have to admit it scared the bejesus out of me. Even though I am from here, I’m not as sheltered as your average Roaring Forker. After all, I lived in Denver for high school, where I took a bus to a public school on Colfax (a city bus not a school bus) and I’ve lived in big cities like Seattle, Austin, and New Haven. I’ve traveled to places all over the world, and I consider myself to be amiable and open, even when I’m out of my comfort zone, i.e., not on my couch in yoga pants…

But Silt scared me. It is like another planet compared to the Roaring Fork valley. The closest thing I could find to a ‘health food’ snack was a bag of Combos— if you haven’t tried these, don’t. They’re like dog treats for humans. Everyone looked like they had just finished their 10 hour shift on an oil rig (probably because they had) and the land seemed deserted despite all the stores and houses. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was definitely a Dean Koontz feeling in the air.

Of course they have a very nice, new BLM field office, thanks no doubt to the largest gas lease sale ever in the lower 48 states- $113.9 million in 2008 (half of which went to the State of Colorado) but I’m still not sure it was worth it. I would rather have clean air and water and that tingly feeling on the back of my neck when the wild things are watching. I know that without industry there are no jobs, but does it have to be such a zombie dirty industry?

Our house is completely powered by electricity generated from PV panels on our roof. We didn’t even bring a gas line in. And that’s while the majority still makes fun of solar, putting it in the same production category as pinwheels and pixie dust. Just imagine what it would be like if a fraction of oil & gas money was invested in solar, wind, hydro, etc. It would look like the freakin Jetsons out there; we could all zap around on rainbows and cow pies and then come home to low energy bills and a big boxy maid who looks a lot like Ernest Borgnine…

Speaking of Ernest Borgnine, we could’ve played Will the Real Ernest Borgnine Please Stand Up at the TDC meeting last week. Wow. And how about those industry guys? “He’s no Matt Damon.” -AR. I’m glad they came to the meeting though, and I hope they quit their jobs soon so they can spend more time fly-fishing or backpacking or something. I mean I know they have a job to do, but hopefully they’ll realize they just get the one life and they’re wasting valuable time, like Matt Damon realized in Promised Land.

A pretty good movie, but my uncle and I both agreed that if Matt had really spent summers on his grandfather’s farm he’d damn well know how to drive a stick… While we were discussing the film, Uncle Charlie asked me if I was familiar with the Golden Rule. Sure, I replied, seeing images of Sunday School Jesus sharing his supper and a panhandler I just read about on Yahoo! who returned a diamond ring to a woman because she accidentally gave it to him when she emptied her change purse into his cup on the street.

“The Golden Rule:” my uncle said, “the one with the gold makes the rule.”

Hmm, so that’s why the oil companies are such clocksuckers they think they can extend their Thompson Divide leases indefinitely and frack around on the Roan Plateau without worrying about what the people who live here think.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could still drink the local water in fifty years, instead of watching it catch on fire? And if the Thompson Divide was still dark at night from space, unlike north North Dakota.* That’s worth way more than gold; just ask anyone at the Kum & Go in Silt.

* http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2013/01/16/169511949/a-mysterious-patch-of-light-shows-up-in-the-north-dakota-dark