Why Old Lumberjacks Don't Have All Their Fingers.

   This is a parable I've thought about putting here for years.  It's my own, I think.  And- I just conducted a nice proof of it; so it's highly relevant.

   My excuse for dropping off for a few days (this time) - I got bitten by a cat; on the hand.

  Bitten hard, is the thing, and right on the ball of the index finger; down to bone, maybe.  Dumb, huh?

  Cripes.  I'm a trained animal behaviorist, and have been handling cats- including in highly difficult circumstances; literally for decades.  So why did I allow myself to get bitten?  Same reason why Old Lumberjacks Don't Have All Their Fingers.

   There's a real reason- and it's not all that obvious.  It's a really good thing to keep in mind.  Since I made the parable up, at least 25 years ago, you'd think I'd remember- but the fact that I didn't- is actually a proof of the parable- and "a warning to those who would be warned", in the words of the Thousand And One Nights.

  Cat bites are no joke; don't get bitten.  The Mayo Clinic hand surgeons recently published the information that 30% of the cat bite patients they see- wind up hospitalized, for an average of 3.2 days.  I'm on two antibiotics, after the emergency room visit.

   The Parable Of The Old Lumberjacks And Their Missing Fingers

   Young lumberjacks are not dumb.  When they get into the business, they look to their seniors to learn how to do the job.  It's known to be dangerous; deadly, indeed.  People die every year doing this.  Trees are massive, and gravity is absolutely unforgiving.

   Old lumberjacks are, frequently, missing a finger or two; or some pieces of fingers.  Young lumberjacks see this instantly.  They ask the old lumberjacks how it happened - and why.

   The old lumberjacks are universally just a bit embarrassed about it.

   "Got careless."

   "Why?  How did you let that happen?"  Puzzlement.

   "Well.  It was late; the end of the day.  Had this one job left; then I could go home."

   A pause occurs.  And a sigh.

  "I broke a rule.  Knew I shouldn't.  But it was just this little quick thing- thought I could get away with it.  Stuck my hand where I shouldn't.  There's a damn good reason for the rules.  Broke one- here I am.  Paid for it."

  The young lumberjack, in awe of the expertise of the old lumberjack, is nonetheless just a tad scornful of anyone stupid enough to break work rules like "don't put your hand in danger".  "Man, I'm NEVER going to break a rule!",  they swear to themselves, and they mean it.

   And?  They don't.  Break rules.  They are very, very careful- and never, ever, break a rule; or put their body parts in danger.  The image of those missing fingers is extremely durable- and forceful.  Why would you ever take a risk like that?

   And?  They don't get hurt.

   Year after year.

   And there, my dears, is the problem.

   Year after year- the young lumberjack works safely.  No injuries; good hard work done.  Year after year, the rules keep him safe.  And; little by little; insidiously, inevitably, he begins to believe - that it is never going to happen to him.  The years add weight to that belief that it is almost humanly impossible to ignore.  "I'm careful.  Always.  I don't take risks."

   Then, years later: it's late.  One last thing to do.  It'll just take a fraction of a second to do this... I've never had an accident... just this once...

  And.  Whammo.  Missing fingers.



  It's a trap our own brains and humanity set for us.  Be warned, those who would take warning.


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  So why did I get a cat bite on the hand?  Um.  It was late... I've been handling difficult cats for flipping decades... never had a real bite... used gloves when medicating...

  : - )  My other excuse is, I'd had to manhandle this cat's father a few days prior- he sneaked into the root cellar behind me, and I needed him out, so I could close it, and he was evading me... it was late...  And the father is a big, tough, originally semi-feral intact tom, who has never been a lap cat.  I was quite rude about it; dragged him out from under a shelf by one hind leg, picked him up... and the tom was extremely polite about it all, and very careful of me; claws fully retracted at all times in spite of it all.  I had reason to expect him to be polite, actually, we have a great relationship.

  So this half-grown cat, potentially in training to be an inside-outside cat (one lap cat can be nice, yes?) had been naughty, and knew it; up on the table, grabbed a chicken bone, while I was upstairs singing to Smidgen... I was trying to move him out the door, he evaded, I grabbed- and he BIT.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb- and expensive.  And I so knew better.

  Just call me Sven.

The Plumber Parable Proliferates

Yesterday much ado was generated by Thomas Friedman; the NYT econ-astrology (trying that out, feonix; thanx...) columnist.   Friedman has gotten lots of attention in the past year or so by advocating that we can, basically "grow" our way out of our economic maelstrom by investing in "green" technologies.  He's even written a book about it, the title of which is sometimes parodied as "Flat, Overheated, and Vacuous".  Some of his first toutings were in the NYT, and I responded to what was being called "muscular green" way back then, in some detail.

Reception by environmental thinkers of his book, and his basic "green industrialization" concept, has not been all that great.  Pretty clearly, he still was not "getting" the basic need for some limits here, somewhere.  Like all neo-classical economists, buried in his essential assumptions is the one about "perpetual growth" (it's "good", and "necessary", in order to make the models work.)

Yesterday he printed a column that many folks greeted enthusiastically - it looked, indeed, as if Friedman had "gotten religion".   And it did kinda look that way-

"We have created a system for growth that depended on our building more and more stores to sell more and more stuff made in more and more factories in China, powered by more and more coal that would cause more and more climate change but earn China more and more dollars to buy more and more U.S. T-bills so America would have more and more money to build more and more stores and sell more and more stuff that would employ more and more Chinese ...

We can’t do this anymore"

Golly jeepers!  His eyes have opened!  Hope!  Sharon, over at Casubon's Book, was downright enthusiastic.  In her special way.  :-)  

I however, wound up focusing on his later paragraphs; where- he lapsed into:

"We must have growth, but we must grow in a different way. ... Let’s grow by creating flows rather than plundering more stocks."

Semantics should not be the problem here- to an econ-astrologer, "growth" means- my factory will get bigger each year- forever.  More employees.  More profits.  More customers.

Friedman is playing with changing that definition; but I don't think he's managed, really.  I'm just not buying what he's selling.  Crank that I am.

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So; today- he's got another column out.  Announcing to the world that, officially! - we have a real, serious problem with the economy.  "This is not a test.  This is not a test."  He says.

Yay!  He noticed.  That's good.

Alas... and hooray... he goes on to illustrate that my Parable Of The Poor Plumber has broad applicability.

Here is his answer to all our problems:

"All this will require leadership of the highest order — bold decisions, persistence and persuasion. There is a huge amount of money on the sidelines eager to bet again on America. But right now, there is too much uncertainty; no one knows what will be the new rules governing investments in our biggest financial institutions. If President Obama can produce and sell that plan, private investors, big and small, will give us a stimulus like you’ve never seen.

Which is why I wake up every morning hoping to read this story: 'President Obama announced today that he had invited the country’s 20 leading bankers, 20 leading industrialists, 20 top market economists and the Democratic and Republican leaders in the House and Senate to join him and his team at Camp David. ‘We will not come down from the mountain until we have forged a common, transparent strategy for getting us out of this banking crisis,’ the president said, as he boarded his helicopter.' "

The Answer- will come from... hold your breath, now...

#1- Leading Bankers!!

#2- Leading Industrialists! 

#3- Top! Market! Econ-Astrologers!

#4- Leading Politicians!

 Are we all rolling on the floor in helpless laughter?  Um.  Aren't these exactly the same plumbers that busted the sink in the first place- and have had no idea how to fix it?

Way to think outside the box!!   Sorry, Charlie; we need tuna that - isn't rotten?  Knee-jerks are just not going to get us out of this whirlpool.

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Not to mention Friedman apparently hasn't heard of that (apocryphal) study by the Rand Corporation on the most effective size of committees.

He wants 20 Bankers.  20 Industrialists.  20 Econ-astrologers.  And leading donkeys and elephants from both houses of Congress- not sure how you decide how many, but obviously parity is needed - so at least another 20.  Hopefully not 20 each...

So now you have a good decision making body of at least - 80 Leading! individuals.  Who are not coming down off the mountain until they have it ALL figured out.

Hm.  On second thought.  Maybe that's a good idea.  We could put all those Leading! people up there- and never have to listen to them again.  They ain't never coming down.

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According to the story.  After years of acquiring data.  Data analysis.  Theorizing.  Etc.

The Rand Corporation put together a well-tested equation, for the optimum function of a "committee".

Optimum number of members in a committee for best decision making?  

"Less than one."  Says so, right on the graph.

oh, yeah, and CitiBank was up- another 9¢ today!  

I'm thinking about painting the gallows in polka-dots.

It's a Grimm world, after all...

Ha.  Now that I've set that pernicious little tune running incessantly through your head...

Sorry to be gone so long.  It's kind of "all of the above", when I look in my box of excuses.

At the top of the list though is: ok, so what is there to say about all this?  The world seems almost jabbered out, to me.  It's been said, screamed, whimpered.  We're all just waiting for the rest of the shoes to fall on our heads.  So it's kinda hard to get up the energy (in between emptying trash cans full of used tissues) to try to write something that anyone in their right mind would want to read.

Hey, I'll cheer up next week, probably.  

Meanwhile; this bit in the Washington Post just hit me, and triggered this story; which might, in fact, be interesting and useful to you.

Basically one of the Post's financial pundits is touting a book- by a writer from the Wall Street Journal!!  entitled: "The Wall Street Journal Guide to the End of Wall Street as We Know It: What You Need to Know About the Greatest Financial Crisis of Our Time -- And How to Survive It".

And she starts out "He had me at the title..."

OMG.  Yeah, he had me, too, but in the other direction.  Here is why- and this is something we desperately need to get our lawmakers to hear- and act on.

True story.  A couple weeks ago, I was at a big statewide "green" meeting.  It was pretty good.  About 400 earnest people; all ages, many of them actually knowing what they were talking about.

At the end of it, there was an unusually good "wrap-up" session, with 2 State Senators, one normal, and one I was actually very impressed with, 2 national congressional staffers, and the moderator, who is a state National Public Radio personality.

Reasonably intelligent conversation- particularly from the little round Santa Claus Senator, who was smart smart smart.  But talked slow.  

And he said stuff that challenged a lot of common "wisdom".

Towards the end, the NPR moderator posed her own question; "Senators, last week I had three economists on my morning show, and I asked them for their views on how long this recession will last, and... "  blah blah.  My brain switched off right there, and I composed this little parable.  Which I actually put to the NPR person, personally, after it was all over.  Cornered her, so she couldn't get away.

The Parable Of The Poor Plumber.

Your sink is leaking, down underneath.  You've tackled it briefly with your own pump pliers, but they don't do any good.  Time for some expert help.

You go to the Yellow Pages, look up "Plumbers", and pick one who is nearby, and available.

They send a guy; he works at the sink for a half hour; making lots of show; lots of tools.  And he presents you with a bill "Hey, lady, it's a minimum $250 to bring the truck out, ya know; I don't set the prices."

The sink seems to work.  Except - the next day, the leak is back.  Worse than before.

You are not happy.  You call the plumbing company; and actually have the gall to complain, and basically demand that for $250 bucks, you do deserve a sink that does not leak.  They grumble, but send a guy out.  Same guy.

He's not really fazed by all this- "Lady, sometimes they just take more fixing.  I'll get it."  And he puts in 45 minutes this time; many tools.  A little cussing.  Well after supper "There, lady- she's fixed."  And he vanishes.

The sink, however- still leaks.  And actually - the cold water faucet no longer delivers water- and it did, before he got down in there to fix it.

If you've been through an exchange like this (and who hasn't) by now, you can see the steam starting to come out of "Lady's" ears.

Once more, you chew out the plumber's dispatcher.  Once more they send a guy (a different one this time!).

And...

Yeah, it's still not fixed.  Leaks as badly as ever; and no cold water.

We're past the steam coming out of the ears now.

And...

Now your toilet is refusing to flush...

Here's the question; and the point:

Do you call the same plumber to come and fix your problems?

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Boy, I guarantee I don't.

And at this point, the NPR personality (whom I'd forced to listen, tête-à-tête, to this shaggy dog story) said forcefully and abruptly, "Yes.  So?"

And I replied: "Why.  On God's Green Earth.  Would you ask an economist anything- about the current economic crisis?"

I let that sink in for about 2 seconds (a long time in her world) and continued: "They PUT us here.  They say they couldn't see it coming.  They don't agree on why or how it happened, and they have no ideas for how to get out of it, or where to go.  WHY would you be asking them for advice - as if they had advice to give?"

Oh, she didn't buy it.  Nope, in her world, economists are who you ask about the economy.  Never mind that, just like in the fairy tale (ok, it's Andersen, not Grimm) - they've just proven to the entire world that they are intellectually bare stark naked.

A big part of this problem, of course, is that economists have steadily worked to make the world believe they know what they're doing.  They invented their own Nobel award (Nobel did NOT give a prize in economics); and added "mathematical modeling" to their discipline.

And it all clearly does not reflect any realities- but they've left the world with the impression that there is no other source of information on this important subject; you must ask an economics professor, if you wish to discuss it.  No other options exist.  That, without thinking, is where the NPR person was.

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Except.  There IS another discipline- which did see "all this" coming; long ago; and said so, loudly.   Maybe- it would be a good idea to look to the people who predicted all this; for some understanding, and maybe some answers?

Who?  Ecologists.  I got news for ya- ecology is far more a science than economics- and- you notice they have the same Greek root?  oikos - for house.  Ecologists actually study the same thing economists do- the flow of resources; over time.  Except; ecologists go out into the real world, and look to see how it actually works.  Economists- live on college campuses, and make up anything they want.  Reality need not intrude.  Ecologists do experiments, and measure results.  Economists - can't.  So they just project.  Leaving them open to little booboos like "see, the sun comes up in the east; and goes down in the west- OBVIOUSLY - the sun revolves around the earth."

So, Dear World.  Your toilet is backed up; not working.  Who you gonna call?

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Update, Tuesday: gosh, couldn't ask for better confirmation of the parable here.  Todays "Economix" blog in the NYT is by a Harvard Economics Professor!! - (my little heart is going pitty-pat!)  and entitled "The Lorax Was Wrong" -  He says living in cities is greener than living in forests.  Gosh.  If you're interested, the responses in his blog comments hit pretty much every refutation you can think of.  I'm tempted to write an OpEd for the NYT myself; maybe entitled "The Professor Is Full Of It."  lol.  And would they print it?  No.

The Parable of The Shed: Why 30 years is not forever.

One useful aspect to all of us forcibly attending Camp TEOTWAWKI now, is that many people truly are starting to be more mindful of their choices.   Think before you invest.  Look before you leap off your burning bridges.  That sort of thing.

Guidance in making long term decisions though, is hard to come by, and harder to judge.  Does this expert advisor actually have a clue, or ...  have I wound up with Alfred E. Neuman,  yet again?

Not long after Spouse and I built the Little House, and actually started living here, it became quite clear that we needed more space.  15' x 20'; including a wood stove, piano, and kitchen sink, and dining room table, just does not leave a lot of room for projects, like building a set of shelves.  No place left to walk, while that is under way.

Virtually all farm type operations include outbuildings; a barn, a shed- a workshop.  So it wasn't too difficult to decide that we did, indeed, need a multipurpose shed, not too far from the house.  We figured it should serve as a: work shop, bad-weather wood shed, seasonal storage space (eg. storm windows and skis in summer), materials storage (eg. boards, plywood), tool storage, empty mason jar storage.  You know.  A shed.

So quickly, you get to "where, exactly"; "how big", and "how".  "Where" was pretty limited; by the need to be close; "how big", it turns out, was partly determined by "how".

Standard construction around here would be a "pole barn" - treated wood poles, gravel or concrete floor, pre-fab roof trusses, and sheet metal sides and roof.  You just go the lumber yard, and order the stuff.  And there are loads of experienced construction teams who can zip it up for you in a couple days.

It was very easy to decide not to go that route- we had no money whatsoever.  Which meant- materials out of our 40 acres of oak/maple woods, and/or scrounged materials, and a "barn-raising" party for labor.

Then, you have to work out the details.

Something you pretty quickly find out, when you're living this kind of do-it-yourself life; the details are NOT "important".  The details are EVERYTHING.

Oddly, we teach our children the opposite, these days.  "Sure, teacher, I got the answer to the question wrong, but you can tell I understood it!" - will often get you a pity-pass in schools, even in universities.  But not in real life.  My father pounded this one in when he was an engineering prof, and I was in High School; and I got to listen to him gripe about his students.

  "But Professor, yes, I got the math wrong, but it's just a decimal point!  You can tell I totally understood the problem!"  "I don't give a good goddam if you 'understood' the problem!  Your goddam building FELL DOWN; and 370 people died!!  The only thing that matters is the right answer.  The F stands. "  And he would shake his head in amazement at their incomprehension.

So, I was well trained to do my homework regarding construction, and I'd adsorbed quite a bit of information via osmosis- and from helping my father re-build most of the houses we'd lived in (many).  Looking around at the old homesteads here, I found quite a few old chicken coops and corn cribs that were made with just white oak posts for their basic support; planted in the ground; and easily 50 years old.  Obviously, white oak can last a long time in our soils; the stated lifespan for chemically treated poles in direct soil contact is usually 30-40 years.

Doing more homework- the expected lifespan for white oak fenceposts around here is less; 20-30 years.  The difference is attributed mostly to the roof- poles under a roof should spend more of their life dry.

Most of my available poles are not exactly "white oak" - Quercus alba; but burr oak; Q. macrocarpa.  The textbooks say, though, that in this case, they're pretty much the same in regard to rot resistance.

So, using my own oak poles, we should be able to put up a shed that will last 30 years; no sweat.  We had a good supply of 12"-8" diameter red pine poles for rafters and plates; pine boards and 2/4's for other structure- and we helped a friend tear down a local railroad station for windows and siding.  We did buy metal for the roof.

When you're 30 years old- 30 years into the future looks indistinguishable from "forever", or "until we die."  And, guess what?  It isn't.  Here I am- 30 odd years later-

And sure as heck; the time has run out on some of my burr oak poles.

This is the SW corner pole.  And, as you can see- it's entirely rotted off- the bottom of the pole is now a good 6" above the ground.  Hm.

We just discovered it, absurdly enough.  The shed had gone through a phase where it got increasingly cluttered and useless, to the point where I only referred to it as "The Dread Shed"; and it got to the point where Middle Child and his wife decided to totally overhaul it, bless them.  Unburying the corner- where we already knew a woodchuck had chewed through the outer wall (and wrought havoc inside for months); we discovered the rotted off pole.  Oh, so that's why the windows have been breaking.

The shed is not falling down.  One of the advantages of using big logs for plates and rafters- they're enormously strong, and well secured on the other poles- most of which are not rotted off.  This corner is the wettest one.  But- the building is sagging, putting stress on everything.  

So now what?  Fix it?  Tear the shed down and rebuild?  I don't want to.

Dammit, I'm 60 years old now, busy, and I want the bloody shed to be in usable shape; I don't want to be building, or fixing.

Why didn't I build it to last in the first place?

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That turns out to be a complex, and highly significant question.  Lissen up; and maybe you can avoid my mistakes.

A)  I was young (30) and stupid.  I thought 30 years was forever.  It really really isn't.

B)  Everybody I asked thought 30 years was forever, too.  Or plenty long enough.

C)  The entire construction industry is built around the idea that structures should not last more than 50 years; even homes.  Then you should build a new one.  You want to benefit from the constant improvements in modern materials and design, don't you?  Well then.  They really like that- so if you read their text books, or go to them for advice- that's what they'll tell you.

and

D) Building structures with longer life-spans is quite a lot more expensive.  Like double.

E) Financial advice is always- that investments in durable structures are not sensible.  The reasoning there: if you put that money in the stock market instead, it would give you better returns (no laughing, now); and, they're quite sure you will move to a better, more expensive location later in life, as you become more successful; so you won't get the benefit of the more durable structure anyway; and whoever you sell your old place to will not pay you any premiums for the better buildings; people just don't.

F)  That's the way we build stuff in the States- always have.  Ever since Europeans arrived here- they've been sure they were going to move in the next 10-20 years, to someplace better. Why build for the long term?

See any holes in any of the logic here?

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I'm cogitating, pondering, and kneading all this stuff right now for a couple of specific reasons; I've got to figure out what to do about this shed; and- about future construction here.  We're in the process of building space for animals (guineas! ) - and you can check out a recent rhapsody on barns by Sharon, here.

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More in the next post.   Think about it!  And think about all the stone farmhouses in Europe... and how old they are...

The Parable Of The Grateful Serf

In Merrye Olde Englande many people lived as serfs, in the Middle Ages.  A serf is property, usually bound to a particular piece of land; essentially a slave.  Not- quite; if you want to quibble.  Serfs weren't chained, though they often wore an iron collar; and they had some rights.  They just weren't allowed to travel, say, more than a mile from their farm.  Free-range slavery, then.

Geoff, our serf, was born in the wattle and daub farm cottage, and when his father died in harness Geoff became the one chiefly responsible for operating their farm.  He took a mate, and they had children, to make sure the farm would continue to bear produce for the Lord.

As a reward for the family's labor, and incidentally to provide them with enough food to survive, Geoff and his family were entitled to keep 1/10th of all they raised.  No, not including the pigs, don't be stupid; those belonged entirely to the Lord.  But they got to keep 1/10th of the turnips; 1/10th of the barley, 1/10th of the wheat.  No potatoes; this is before Columbus infected America.

The Lord's Reeve (I think that's the right name) would come around in the Spring and tell Geoff what to plant- and how much- and when.  When a child became old enough for labor- the fields to be managed would be enlarged- more must be produced.  Only fair.  The child eats, the child must produce.

Work starts before dawn and runs to after dark.  Essentially every day of the year.  When not working in the crops, there are the pigs and geese to tend, and protect from wolves, foxes, and outlaws; brushwood to gather to feed the fires in the Lord's kitchens; etc.  Land to plow; by hand; fences and hedges to repair; roads to build...

The system works beautifully.  Geoff has just enough food to keep his family alive.  If they all work hard.  And a roof.  Any effort to leave the land would almost certainly result in death- or if they did manage to escape- starvation.  They would have no land, no turnips, no law.  Staying put is by far the best option for Geoff, and his 8 children.

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The years pass.  The children grow, those that survive.  More are born.  There are moments when it's not utterly unbearable.

One Spring...

The Reeve arrives on his annual visit; riding his horse, and accompanied as usual by 5 men-at-arms, on foot.  He is wearing a sad face.

Geoff and his mate and family greet him; of course they are expecting the visit, and are waiting to hear what their tasks will be in the coming year.

The Reeve begins; "Great news, Geoff.  Our Lord is going to war!  You know that the lord to the south has been raiding our people for years- the time has come to end it!"

Geoff is mildly interested; he's heard of the raids, though they are far away, almost 5 miles.  Perhaps the pigs he tends will be safer.

The Reeve continues.  "Of course- war is costly.  Our Lord must have more men; and they must be armed.  I know we can count on your best efforts this year."

Geoff is now terrified.  Will they take his sons?

"Everyone in the Lord's keeping must contribute.  Geoff- this year, you must deliver the Lord's portion - and half your own, as well.  This is the law."

Geoff and his mate are stunned.  The children stand by, uncomprehending- and are interested to see the tears begin to run down their mother's face.  Geoff and mate know- this is a death sentence, for someone.  The 1/10th they keep is barely enough to keep body and soul together as it is.  Cut in half- they cannot live.  Perhaps some of the children can be sold into full slavery, and saved that way.  Perhaps.  But they can't afford to lose the strong children, and the market for puny young ones is very poor.  They don't really own their children either- the Lord does...

Like a pole-axed ox, Geoff sinks to his knees- it's not premeditated, not an act- he's facing utter catastrophe.  "Please... Sir... you know us, we work hard.  Every year, we've been fair to the Lord; we always deliver his share; we don't cheat and hide some, as you know others do.

"Please.  We will lose our children- or we must all starve together.  Please, Sir Reeve...  we beg.  Is there no other way; is there nothing we can do to escape starvation?"

The Reeve appears moved.  "Geoff - it's true; you and your family are productive; I know you work as hard as you can; better than most.  I've always considered you a good serf; I have always been as a friend to you.  But what am I to do?  The decree is clear.  All must contribute more for the safety of the fief.  I am powerless."

Geoff and mate are prostrate on the ground.  "Please.  Please.  Must we starve?  Please, Sir Reeve- Please..."

The Reeve appears uncomfortable up on his horse, and unhappy.  He sends the men-at-arms away, out of earshot.  "Geoff" he half whispers... "I cannot see you starve- I will turn a blind eye, as much as I can- I will do all I can, because I am your friend - I will allow you to keep 1/4th of the lord's extra portion.. if I tried to let you keep more, I would be found out, and we both would be put to death..."

Geoff and his mate are wild with joy.  Instead of losing half their family's annual food supply- they will only lose 3/8ths.  It's wonderful!  They have escaped an incredible danger!!

"Oh!! Thank you!  Thank you, Sir Reeve!!  We will never forget your kindness!!"  and Geoff and mate gather their family into their arms as tears, now of joy, run down their faces.

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The Reeve, most likely, had firm instructions from the Lord to gather 1/4 of the Serfs' shares, not 1/2- he wouldn't want his serfs to become too weak to work.

Have you noticed how absolutely delighted you are to pay $3.50 for a gallon of gas?  It's wonderful to have it so cheap, isn't it?

I didn't make up this Parable of the Grateful Serf - I heard it somewhere, long ago.  It's an ancient- truly ancient- and well known, well studied, method of "management".

We're being "managed" folks.  Or manipulated, if you wish.  Good old management techniques like this is how Exxon et. al. have had staggeringly huge record-breaking profits for what, 2 years in a row, now?

It works on us all- it works on me- I'm SO grateful gas is only $3.50 - and I KNOW it's a trick.   And  the folks on Wall Street- are ecstatic that the Dow closed at 11,020 today.   When a couple days ago, it was at 11,700.

Even the mainstream commentators are catching on- speaking up.  Steven Pearlstein at the Washington Post has had several very tough things to say over the last months; in his column today, he lays it out: 

"What we are witnessing may be the greatest destruction of financial wealth that the world has ever seen -- paper losses measured in the trillions of dollars."

Those are very heavy words indeed- for a business columnist at the Washington Post.

And keep in mind- not everyone is getting skinned.  Some folks are getting rich- every time a dying bank is "rescued".   The managers have stripped your pennies, and mine- now they are turning on each other.

It's all being managed.  And the managers have known how to do it, for hundreds of years.

And like Geoff- there's really nothing you and I can do about it.  The alternatives are worse.  But just maybe, it could be useful to keep your eyes and mind open- and try to see what's really going on.

The Guinea Saga; part 2

So, we were at the point where 1 of 11 birds had just escaped into the outer world.

This was a white bird- and I have little hope for them in the long run.  Seen any white squirrels recently?  There's a reason albinos are rare in the wild- basically, they have a big "EAT ME" sign taped on their back.  (Yes, I know there are populations of white squirrels in several cities- no hawks.)

Spice ordered the guineas, and she was focused on price.  The cheapest way to buy them is if you let the hatchery fill out your order with whatever they have on hand; the hatchery we bought from sells about 10 different breeds of guinea- almost all selected purely for ornamental differences in plumage- and of course it's very common for them to have some hatch out today- with no buyer waiting.  So they sell "we choose" batches, for a discount.  We wound up with about 1/3 white, 1/3 pearl, and 1/3 some kind of brown.  I think next time we order, we won't go the discount route- I really have no hope the white ones will survive in the long run as free range birds.  Not here.

When we first moved here, one of the most common questions (besides the ones about phones, when we were going to get electricity and running water...) was "why don't you have chickens?"  Obviously, if you live in the woods in a cabin, you should have chickens.  :-)

My answer was always this:  "Let's see.  Red foxes.  Gray foxes.  Raccoons.  Mink.  Badgers.  Skunks- 2 species.  Feral cats.  Feral dogs. Weasels- 3 species. Great Horned Owls.  Barred Owls.  Cooper's Hawks.  Sharpshin Hawks.  And I'm sure I'm forgetting some."  The universal answer was.  "Ah."  We really really do live in the woods; it ain't suburbia.  If we wanted chickens, we were going to have to build a fortress of some kind, and we just didn't need or want them that much.

Today I'd add coyotes, and bald eagles- neither were here in 1976, but they're abundant now.  We now have increasing reports of bobcats, too.  You don't usually think of bald eagles as chasing chickens- but the eagles are fantastic opportunists, and they recognize a lazy chicken as easy food immediately.  The coyotes nearly eradicated both fox species when they moved in; but the foxes are adapting now, and coming back- Spice badly twisted her ankle in a well hidden Red Fox hole a couple years ago.

The idea with the guineas is; once established as a population; with adults; they will be able to avoid the ground based predators very effectively, by roosting in trees and being such strong flyers.   But a single white bird up in a tree- is just a target.

I tried to watch where the escapee went, anyway- it wasn't really afraid of me, and let me get quite close, though it never offered to let me catch it.  But the third time I went looking to see where it was now- I couldn't find it, anywhere.  I blocked all the possible escape spots on the pen with heavy sods from the adjacent construction site.

Later that evening, I took Bruce out for a little work with the birds.  He had, of course, been very playful/bouncy when he first met them in the new pen- scaring the heck out of them, and not stopping until I'd yelled at him several times- something that's almost never necessary, and left him pretty embarrassed.  So I took him out, on a leash (also very rare) and walked around the pen with him, requiring him to be calm about it, and not chase.  I swear he speaks English.  He got the idea very quickly.  As part of the work, I walked him over where I'd last seen the escapee- he'd likely sense and flush any hiding bird.  Nothing.  Either hiding very well, or already cat chow, I expected.

We added Bruce to the farm for a very specific reason- protection.  For Smidgen, the farm in general, and- future livestock.  Hence my selection of a dog with a substantial component from a herding breed- collie.  After working Bruce on the leash for only 15 minutes, he was so calm and well behaved I took him off the leash, right next to the guinea pen; and he did not disappoint me; he continued to behave perfectly.  The video shows the pen, half under an apple tree; the almost 4 week old birds, and Bruce, being blasé, looking for mice -

The pen is 12 feet x 8 feet x 4 feet high; the guineas are zooming to eat some fresh greens I just tossed in for them- something else the easily available information does not mention; they eat lots of grass at this point; clover, etc.

That first night, I went to bed with 10 birds in the pen, and Bruce outside, loose, all night; on guard (he's around 60 lbs now- very few coyotes would think of challenging him).

He was fine with being outside on his own; didn't fuss about wanting to come in, when I just explained to him that he was going to stay out.  Did I mention I think he speaks English?

In the morning - ah, here the drama comes in.

I went out immediately, Bruce calmly accompanying, to see how the 10 birds fared in their first night- and immediately found- only 2 birds still inside the pen.

They were huddled together, right against the wire- and huddled against them on the outside of the wire- were the other - 9 birds.  I counted 3 times- because I would really have expected unprotected chicks to turn into predator fodder, very quickly- 9.  +2=11.

Yeah- RC and Nancy M- you were right, the escapee came back and re-joined the flock.

So, that was nice; and encouraging- it looked like the guineas were indeed good at surviving, and staying in their flock; both things I really wanted.  It also looked like they were going to be escape artists- not quite so nice.  

Carefully moving around the pen, so as not to spook the guys on the outside and scare them off, I started looking for how the heck they got out- I have a lot of experience with pens for difficult animals- and was feeling pretty miffed-

Ah- here we are.  Something had, in the night, dug two lovely holes under the fence... leaving loads of room for the birds to duck under.  Bruce digs.  Quite  lot.  I was starting to mumble bad things to Bruce, who was right there- when it finally struck me that the odor of skunk was really really strong, right here...

In fact, I'd been waked up in the middle of the night by the powerful smell of a fresh skunk discharge drifting in the open windows.  But that's not all that uncommon; happens a couple times a year-and it didn't really wake me fully.  No noise accompanying the smell.  Next morning, the whole world smells a bit skunky- it's normal.

Bit by bit- detective deductions at work- what happened became clear.

Sure as heck; my constant predictions for predators immediately moving to chow down on any poultry had come true- on the very first night, a skunk had found the pen, and instantly started digging its way in.

Then, my preparations and plans kicked in, too- and worked.  Guineas are renowned for making a racket when frightened.  Bruce, on patrol, heard the noise; went out, and instantly tackled the skunk- all on his own.  Judging from where the skunk hit back- the spray mostly hit Bruce on the belly and side, we found- Bruce had the skunk down and struggling to get away when the skunk fired.  Given any chance, a skunk will spray a dog in the eyes- not an accident, and they're good at it.  This skunk didn't have that chance.  Apparently the spray did surprise Bruce into letting the skunk go, and the skunk lit out- because we didn't find any skunk corpse.

The skunk was apparently permanently educated; because in the following week, there have been no more attempts to dig into the guinea pen.  Bruce is out, and on guard, all night.  Occasionally he'll wake us; with a burst of serious barking, nearby.  That took a little getting used to- but now, it feels very good.  He's on the job.  Most likely a coon, or coyote, that is now not poking into our world; and we have, in the past gone through all kinds of gyrations trying to keep stuff stored outside safe from raccoons.  That's a crazy hard job- and usually whatever you come up with, they'll eventually find a way around.  But there's probably no way around Bruce.

Incidentally, the remedy for skunk on your dog is not tomato juice- my god, what a mess.  A perfect example of what I'm starting to call Green iManure; cutesy-poo clueless, "back to the land!" malinformation.   

The application of a little basic chemistry will explain what you need.  What is "skunk" juice?  The core chemicals are mercaptans; the sulfur based equivalent of an alcohol; also found in tear gas, and "perms".  What do you need to break down a mercaptan?  Any mild acid; it's a highly reactive chemical bond, easily broken down.  It's precisely that high reactivity that makes it an effective weapon.  Tomato works- because it's acid.  Another household acid- vinegar- works about 1,000x better- and with 1,000th of the mess.  Chem 101.

Put either undiluted vinegar (any kind, stronger is better), or 1:4 diluted vinegar for working around the eyes, in any household spray bottle; and spray it on your skunky dog.  Outside, for heaven's sakes.  Then comb the vinegar through the fur.  Rinse off with a little water.  Repeat, until the skunk is gone, or you can at least stand to have the dog around, or the dog won't put up with it any more (in which case you can do more later.)  If you don't have a spare spray bottle, just get a sponge or rag soaked with the vinegar, and wipe it on, then comb it through.

Bruce put up with the vinegar treatment- cheerfully applied by Spice, who came home just in time for this whole show- with great patience.  It's hard to get it all.  Maybe impossible, even.  But at this point, he only smells a little skunky; just enough to remind us of the whole event; which in fact; feels very good.

Plans, preparations, protections- that worked!  Darned nice, once in a while.

Next step for the guineas will be turning them into free range birds.  According to our information, it's best to wait until they're 6 weeks old before turning them out.  Then do it gradually; a few birds only, on the first day, then a few more the next day.  Working to keep them anchored to this place, as home.

There are more tricks to that.  Coming up soon.  Meanwhile- the birds are growing fast; have been through several rainstorms in the new pen, with no problem, and no further attacks from predators.  And no lost birds.  It's actually encouraging!

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Why is all this a "post-peak parable"?  That gets to be a long post in itself.

Let me just ask this question- what was the basis of "civilization" - meaning; cities, etc.?

The usual answer is "agriculture" - but the real answer is - domestic animals.  Oxen, donkeys, camels, and horses for power- the power we now get from oil.  We owe our culture to our animal symbiont/partners- they're fantastic solar energy concentrators and converters.  My guess is- they are about to play a larger role in the world, again.

The Guinea Saga; A Post-Peak Parable; part 1

The bumps in the road-

I sometimes think half my life is spent delivering one form or another of "sorry this is late, but..."

After that last post, I was intending to zoom off and write the brilliant story of the guineas, so far- and, as happens so consistently around here, zoomed instead into a bump in my road; requiring me to spend all my energy elsewhere for several days.

The biggest problem with bumps, for me, is that they put you behinder than you were, on your previous plans.  More catch-up to play.  I have to keep raising the limit on my National Chores Debt- but what the hay, if an extra trillion here and there doesn't bother Congress, I should be able to do it too, right?

At the moment, I'm chasing the urgent chores that desperately needed to be done 4 days ago, and alas, writing about the guineas isn't right up at the top of the hyper-urgent list.

So although I'd rather write this as one piece, I guess we'll do it in short chunks, as I can get it done.  Here's the first bit of the Guinea Saga; A Post-Peak Parable-

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Building the Chicken Dungeon (otherwise known as the part-earth sheltered, part sod, poultry house) has been taking a loooong time.  As good solid permanent structures are apt to.  Meanwhile- the year progresses, and the ticks do not abate- so we ordered the guinea keets anyway.  Maybe, we thought, that will make us build the Chicken Dungeon faster.

See, now I need to explain why we're calling a guinea housing facility a Chicken Dungeon.  

Adding guineas to our operation here is not a whim, nor a single -purpose project.  Yes, we need to do something about the tick explosion.  (The geese, incidentally, didn't stick- they both appear to have been "homing geese" - and when they got the opportunity; they went home.  Someplace else.)  But; far far beyond the ticks; we really need to have animals- of a variety of kinds, become a part of our crop operations.  We have bugs that need to be eaten- in the apples and other crops; and we have way way too much grass- which we cannot afford to just mow forever.  The guineas are intended to be the start of all that- chosen because they are more able than most to take care of themselves; and they have the reputation of being excellent "watchdogs" - alerting everything else on the farm to the presence of predators; four-legged, two-legged, or winged.  And they eat ticks, and weevils, of course.

We quickly discovered, though, that our real farmer neighbors do not take guineas seriously.  Many have a few- as pets, for amusement.  The idea that we're contemplating a future with maybe 300- 500 guineas on the place- just freaks them out too much.  But somehow, the fact that we're building a sod poultry house- is mildly amusing, but not as threatening.  And, we do intend to add chickens- as foster parents for the guineas, at least- pretty soon, so it's not a prevarication, much.

Back to the guineas.  The keets (chicks) are cute little devils.  They came in the mail; 33 of them; and at 2 days old, were avidly chasing the laser spot from the infrared thermometer we used to make sure they were at the right temperature- a hopeful sign for our fantasies about them becoming real tick controllers.  Somehow this video came out soundless; they peep, at this stage, just like chickens.

They are closer to wild than chickens, though they were kept as domestic fowl by the ancient Egyptians.  Which means, among other things; they fly; strongly.  And, it turns out; very very soon.  We discovered (no, the web information did not really point this out!) that guinea keets grow full wing feathers, and start flying, at the ripe old age of 3 weeks.  Which meant they really needed to get out of their brooder box- now.  And the Chicken Dungeon was far from ready.

Ah- temporary construction.  

Basic advice- don't ever, ever, ever build something temporary.  For one thing, you're wasting resources and time that should go into the real, permanent solution for your need.  For another- the overwhelming tendency is for temporary structures to slide, sneak, and lapse into permanency.  Because they're "good enough"- at the moment- and something else is now more urgent.  So you are stuck with what is an admittedly inferior, inadequate structure- for all eternity.  Temporary structures never die- you just add wire, and duct tape.

Knowing that fully, I set out to build a temporary guinea pen.  It was a matter of life or death for the guineas, literally, and here I was on the farm, all alone- Spice off gallivanting- allein, und abgetrennt, von aller freude.  (holy smokes, my spell checker speaks German, I had no idea.)  Anyway- I was stuck; no choice; temporary is necessary in this case, and I hate it.

The bloody thing consumed about 4 days of my life, and should have taken about 4 hours.  First I had to clear some ground for it- and the mower wouldn't start.  So I had to fix the mower.  Then I went in to town and bought chicken wire- only to have Bruce present me with a big weasel the next morning (not an Ermine, as I first thought, but a Long-Tailed weasel; a significantly more powerful predator, but still slender enough to maybe just walk through the mesh in chicken wire).  So- back to town- a different town, a farther town with a bigger farm store... which still did not have the "right" wire...  

Another reason not to build this way;  if I hadn't been under such pressure to build something now, I could have ordered the right wire, through my nearby store.  Now I'm stuck forever with 50' of half inch/half inch hardware cloth that is not, and will never be, exactly what we need.

Then spend a morning gathering the steel T posts (pulling old ones by hand, buried in sod...) then an hour searching for the post driver- which is missing in action...  All of this in deep Equatorial African Jungle sweat conditions; hot, windless (all these damn trees I planted cut all the wind) and 290% humidity; blink, and you sweat- and the sweat drips onto and over and fogs your glasses- incessantly.  Drive a post in that, please.  Wrangle tightly wrapped 4' wide x 50' long rolls of wire onto the posts, and stretch it, alone... then chicken wire over the top, so the little bastards can't just fly out and turn into Instant Owl Chow-

Heroic work, I assure you.

Finally, the bloody thing is functional- I hope.  Time to put birds in.  At this point, we have, I think, 28 keets, after a few "failed to thrive" and passed on.  They need, really need to be out of the brooder, but- does the new pen really work?  Will it be safe?  Will it actually keep the birds in?  Don't put all your eggs in one basket, right?

So I moved 10, I thought- and put them into the pen.  Except, when I let them out of the transfer box- there were actually 11.  You cannot count more than 10 guineas while they're moving around, I guarantee; impossible to be sure if you've counted that one, or that one- or twice.  Just counting 10 usually requires 4 tries, to be sure.  And when you're stuffing them into a little box, some of them squirm back out again.  (Once in, and the box is closed, they're actually very quiet and comfy.)

Sure enough- there was one little place where the wire didn't sit right tight on the ground- and one of the keets immediately ducked under the fence- and was out.  Who knew they were half mouse?  It doesn't mention this anywhere in the references I could find.  Immediately- zip- up in the apple tree, way up in the top (my apple trees are not dwarfed).  No way I'm getting that bird back.  Sigh.  This is why you start with 30ish- they're not all going to make it, no matter what.

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Tune in tomorrow (I hope) - for the next episode- it gets more exciting, I guarantee-

A Possibility.

I'm in favor of action. A very large part of why I'm not in a university. Pose a problem for them- and they will cheerfully host meetings; forever. Our government, in case you hadn't noticed, has adopted this method.

So when a good solid observation hits me, my tendency is to look for a way to turn it into a positive action; something actually feasible, in this world.

A serious shortcoming to my desire for action is the plain fact that people HATE to change. Whenever a major change is suggested, or demanded by circumstances, history is absolutely clear on what to expect- most folks will say a) it's not possible, and b) you're wrong, and c) I won't do it. History, however is also clear on another point- change IS possible, and does happen.

A little parable as an aside. Spouse (not Spice) taught piano for several years; often in the Little House, where I'd designed the floor specifically to hold the weight of her grandmother's upright. I got to hear a lot of lessons. I'm really NOT quick to draw conclusions about any observations; only after long repetition of this pattern did I admit it IS a pattern. And it still astonishes me. Universally- and I do mean universally; every time a piano student was presented with a new piece of music; one slightly more challenging than the last - their reaction was/is ALWAYS - "I can't do this. I CAN'T." And they seem to believe that. Each time. Segue to 2 weeks later- whatever aspect of that piece of music seemed impossible to them- is now second nature; they accomplish it and don't even notice they've done it. So they get a new piece of music to tackle; and the cycle starts over. "I can't do this. I CAN'T."

Eventually I experimented with a couple of the more accessible students- and pointed this out to them. It didn't really help. It now seems to me there may be a hardwired basic biological reaction here - amounting to "look, you're alive now; don't change what you're doing." The critical part being - "don't change."

The world we've now created requires extensive change. And we're really quite bad at change, as a species.

All this is supposed to make YOU the reader a little less likely to think "oh, that's just crazy talk" (thank you, Vanessa); and a little more likely to listen to the scheme below and think; "hm; that might be worth trying. How do we do it?"

Continuing from the last post- one of Friedman's incontrovertible truths was "He’s dead right. The market alone won’t work. Government’s job is to set high standards, let the market reach them and then raise the standards more."

This being at least a partial contradiction of his previous dogma "the only way ... — is by mobilizing free-market capitalism."

Part of what I pull out of that- along with some obvious truths available to us all - is that the "free market" is NOT working to help solve society's energy problems. And the "government standards" are not working either. Yet.

History is priceless for multiple reasons. Certainly it can show us past mistakes, and teach us not to do them again- Vietnam, for example. But it can also, less obviously, show us how we got into current messes; and consequently suggest ways to get out of them.

The way the world energy markets work at the moment is a big fat catastrophic mess. How did we get here?

Our energy economy didn't come into being until pretty recently- a couple hundred years for coal; less for oil and electricity. There are lots of records available to explain how the "market" grew up.

Here's the problem; as ALL our markets operate today-

THE MORE ENERGY YOU CONSUME- THE LESS YOU PAY FOR IT.

I get a great deal of amusement out of every neophyte pundit "discovering" that "the cheapest power plant is the one you don't have to build." Cutting our consumption of energy is by far the cheapest, fastest, biggest, and lowest impact pathway to a non-toxic economy. And how many big businesses are focusing on energy conservation as their new path to profitability? Maybe it's not zero; but it's dang small. The great majority are busy figuring out fantasies where nobody has to give up anything, and their new "energy source" is amazingly clean, saves our SUVs, and, incidentally, the planet.

THE MORE ENERGY YOU CONSUME- THE LESS YOU PAY FOR IT.

If we are going to survive- I think we have to get that statement inverted - to:

THE MORE ENERGY YOU CONSUME- THE MORE YOU PAY FOR IT.

See, here is where your automatic pilot kicks in with - "you CAN'T do that." and "that's just crazy talk." :-)

But it isn't just crazy talk; because all the reasons that combined to make the markets this way - no longer hold true. We COULD invert it- and rather easily; because in fact most energy sales rates are already controlled by governments; not the free market. WE control them.

Let's just run through electricity- which of course is generated by coal and oil, etc. I'm going to toss out some "example" numbers- please don't comment here that your rates are different- of course they are. These are just approximations- but DO check out the relationships. They're accurate.

You have a home, owned or rented. You pay something like 6-8¢/kWh (kilowatt hour). There are lots of schemes out there for making costs reflect reality a little better- like cheaper "off peak" charges, etc. But they all still work the same way- the more, the cheaper.

Down the road from you is a Super WalMart. They run 24 hrs a day; all lights and refrigerators and freezers and TVs on.
They pay something like 3-5¢/kWh.

Further down the road is a steel mill. They melt metals- sometimes using electric blast furnaces. They pay 2-3 ¢/kWh.

Look it up- your rates are a matter of public record; usually available on the internet with little work searching.

There are at least three historical reasons for these kinds of rates.

1) In the early days of the electrical industry, there was no real power distribution system in existence- you had to build new powerlines for nearly every customer. Arguably; hooking up your house is about as expensive as hooking up WalMart. Arguably. Not in reality, of course- they need much heavier connections, which cost more. And the steel mill is off the charts, there; they have to have their own high-tension lines and substations.

2) In the early days of the electrical industry, there were no big customers already buying power. In order to extend the benefits of clean power to them, operations like the steel mill had to be seduced from coal- arguably, they wouldn't/couldn't change unless offered outrageously cheap power.

3) "Progress" clearly demanded we "grow the electrical industry" - all society would benefit from this new, convenient, clean, cheap, adaptable form of energy.


None of these reasons, I maintain, are at all sensible today; if they ever were. The truth behind why the steel mill pays so little contains the fact that they might, if not given really cheap rates, just build their own power plant. Can't have that.

The power distribution system is mostly "built", though in constant need of repair. At this point, clearly the needs of the large consumers put the most load on the power grid. They should pay more.

There is no shortage of large customers for electric power.

There is no benefit to society, or the world, from electric consumption, per se, being increased; quite the contrary.

What could work instead: electric rates for homes should start low- power for a "normal" amount of annual electric consumption should be very inexpensive.

Just for example- according to the US Dept. of Energy- average US household electricity consumption in 2001 was 10,656 kWh. DOE Power Consumption

We know perfectly well that few of us are as careful with energy as we could be. So let's set the bar a little lower; say the first 8,000 kWh per year should cost 3¢/kWh. Then the next 2,000 should cost 4¢. The next 2,000 -5¢. Then I'd make it steeper; because you're getting into stuff like - lights for your swimming pools; lights for your landscape, tv's in every room- costs that have nothing to do with survival; which is what we're talking about protecting here. So the next 2,000 should cost 8¢; and the next 2,000 should cost 12¢, and the next 2,000- 20¢. You get the idea.

This would give all homeowners a tangible incentive to pay attention to their power consumption. Would they cut back? Not a doubt in the world.

And, incidentally, it would protect the power companies' profits- which is a major concern here if such a change is to happen. They'll scream like stuck pigs if anybody suggests anything that would cut into their sacred profits. All the widows and orphans who own their stock would suffer and die of starvation, don'tcha know. There's no reason why they should. Power company income and profits can stay the same- they will just come to a larger extent from the biggest consumers; not the smallest.

And the steel mill? They don't have to go out of business. Rate changes can be phased in- so they have plenty of time to make adjustments in their operations. No reason it can't be done intelligently, and compassionately.

Sure- their product will then have to cost more. The fact is; it should, and MUST.

We have to get to a world where the actual energy expense for an item is PAID for in its cost. At the moment, our consumer product prices are fantasies; full of weird subsidies and leftover false pricing.

Quite a large part of this is psychological. The Board at the steel mill just never realizes how wasteful they are- power is so cheap they don't even think about it. If they get a little jolt here- they WILL think about it, I guarantee. Will they find ways to economize? Of course. And the potential gains for society are very large indeed- getting households to cut 10% of their power consumption would be nice. Getting the oil refineries and steel mills to cut 10% of THEIR power consumption would be ENORMOUS.

At the moment, they have no incentive to do so. None.

Could this be done? Oh, yeah. Not without a fight, for sure; but the power is already in the hands of citizen power rate boards, in most states. And we could even get the power companies on our side- by allowing their profits to rise just a tad, for every zillion kWh's conserved. That would be a real societal benefit.

My point here. Have you ever heard this idea discussed/suggested? I doubt it. So far as I know, I thought it up; though I'd not be at all surprised if others are thinking similar thoughts. Is it simple? Sure. I'd even say "obvious" - but then I've been thinking it for a year or more now. Doable? Yes. Worth discussing more widely? Yep. And not included in the "the ONLY way..." kinds of calculations. There are LOTS of ways.

It's another example of "we have not yet begun to think", and an example of an action- not a discussion - that is within our reach. Just writing about it all - and mouthing new catch phrases - doesn't cut it.