Cowboy Confessional

Global warming is a curious debate.  Much of it devolves into numbers, that when stripped of inappropriate mathematical manipulation, show either a minor problem or a non-problem.  Lord knows I’ve dug into it enough to be on a first name basis with some antarctic penguins.

What the average person lacks is perspective, so I thought I’d add a tiny bit more in hopes that I can ruin part of Al Gore’s day.

Global temperatures have risen about 5.4 degrees Fahrenheit over the last 150 years.  Worst-case scenarios have it rising another 5.4 degrees in the next century, assuming man-made greenhouse gases continue to accumulate unabated.  So, over the entire history and equant future of the industrial revolution, Ma Earth will have a menopausal hot flash of about 11 degrees total.

Now let me escort you to the tiny town of Aguila, Arizona.  I choose Agilua for a number of reasons:

* It is in an area of the country where there is sunshine 355+ days a year, which eliminates temperature variations from clouds, rain, and solar eclipses by Michael Moore.

* It has a population of barely more than 1,000 head, making is relatively free from “island of heat” effects cased by man made structures.

According to Weather Channel archives, Aguila has an consistent daily temperature change of 31-33 degrees year round.  This consistency, combined with my clear-skies-and-no-heat-island criteria leaves only the sun having a daily contributory effect on temperatures there.

Ah, Sol!  Ever walk outside on a sunny day and feel the warmth on your face?  Pretty amazing that the sun is so damn hot that it can warm your face from about 93,000,000 miles away, or about 12,000 times as far as the Earth is wide. 

And the sun is inconsistent.  It grows and shrinks, and has magnificent gas attacks that make the average Washington Windbag look inert by comparison.  On a good day the sun has a surface temperature of about 9,940 Fahrenheit … almost as hot as Elizabeth Hurley.

So, what has a more effect on global temperatures: a few billion humans or a ball of fire that raises and lowers surface temperatures 30 degrees every damn day from millions of miles away. A temperature range three times what the average global temp has risen and will rise in the next generation?  If you think it is the human, then you are loaded with conceit my friend.

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How bad must life be to eagerly emigrate to South Africa?

The AP has a story in circulation today noting a mass migration of people from Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia) to South Africa.  The last travelers I encountered returning from SA said it was a barely tolerable cesspool, littered with occasional five-star resorts.  Yet a country that ranks 57th in per capita GDP and 178th in life expectancy is a veritable paradise compared to Zimbabwe.

What makes Zimbabweans miserable?  Nearly everything.  The economy is in free fall, approaching terminal velocity.  100,000 Zimbabwe dollars equals about 40-cents in the U.S., thanks to the non-stop Zimbabwean currency printing presses (apparently these presses are the only working machinery in the country). Little wonder that Zimbabwe per capita GDP ranks 129th, with every man, woman, and misfit taking down a mere $2,600 a year.

With Zimbabwe dollars being worth barely more than plugged nickles, there are rampant shortages of … well …. everything except Zimbabwe dollars.  A fleeing expat might well be better fed eating the currency than trying to buy food with it.

Back when Zimbabwe was still Rhodesia, there was a civil war.  Misportrayed in the media (as things perpetually are) the struggle pitted an avowed communist guerrilla (whose face looks more gorilla than guerrilla) by the name of Mugabe against colonialist and their native hired help.  Mugabe was raiding productive farms that were feeding the population, who bought the food with uninflated currencies.  Yet in the intellectually squishy days of the 1970’s — the same decade that gave us Jimmy Carter and disco — Mugabe was lauded by liberals as a man dedicated to freeing his countrymen (well, at least his non-white countrymen) from oppressive European landowners.

And some people bought the story, including the British who engineered the hostile Zimbabwe takeover.  So far the Brits have botched up the middle east, the far east, and now Africa.  I’m not sure we want Parliament as an ally.

Mugabe (rhymes with robbery) started a schizophrenic pillaging of private property, confiscating everything including dirt, and giving it to his diminishing band of fellow thugs.  Since pirates rarely value their ill-gotten booty, much of what was productive industry and agriculture fell into disuse, igniting a downward economic spiral.  Zimbabwe went from being a land of enough to a land of very little to a land of let’s get the hell out of here.

Naturally some his fellow Zimbabweans disagreed with Mugabe’s management style, which can be politely described as fatal.  From the moment the British blundered in arranging Mugabe’s extortion, he started silencing opposition.  A non-amusing historical footnote is that his original storm troopers were trained in North Korea.  North Korea, being an axis-of-evil, makes Mugabe a spoke-of-evil.

So now after 26 years of systematic decimation of the country, economy, and community, folks are voting with their feet and footing it to any neighboring nation.  Near endless murder and deprivation will motivate anyone.

The sad part is many people saw the insanity before it occurred.  Mugabe did not hide his political philosophy, and his brutal raids on Rhodesian farms showed the violence he was willing to commit.  Nothing in his words, deed or character indicated that he would be anything less than an utter dictator.  And thus he has been for 26 years.

The lesson is that it is better to kill a demon than negotiate with one.  Mugabe was the terrorist of his time.  Let this harsh lesson not be repeated in our times.

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Osama bin Laden is now my favorite stand-up comedian.

Airwaves erupted yesterday concerning a new video from the Terrorist in Chief.  I grabbed the transcripts and, after reading the script several times, see that Osama has a new battle plan.  He’s trying to make us laugh ourselves to death.

Irony was Osama’s main motif, using obvious contradictions to spark a snicker.  He opened with:

Allah, who awakened His slaves’ desire …

For a fellow who hung about with the Taliban, a troupe known for enslaving an entire nation, this was a side-splitting start his new routine.  Later on Osama ribs the Bush administration, claiming about the Iraq strategy:

Bush … working with the leaders of one sect against another sect, in the belief this will quickly decide the war …

Bin laden sure hasn’t been reading the news lately, because nothing in Iraq is being decided quickly!  The biggest howl of his performance may be where he creates a marriage made in Hell:

… a continuing and biased campaign Being waged against us for a long time now by your politicians and many of your writers by way of your media, especially Hollywood, for the purpose of misrepresenting Islam and its adherents to drive you away from the true religion.

Oh my Gawd!  Genius.  Politicians, Hollywood and the media working together?  Unless there is a lot of money involved, you can’t get any one of these groups to stay civil to the other for more than a thirty second commercial break.  And he capped that bit of madcap with the tried-and-true “true religion” gag.  That one is such a sure-fire giggle starter, they still use it at the Vatican.

Osama slipped a bit though.  A good comedian knows never to use numbers in their act.  Making your audience do math depreciates comedic effect.  Osama left the laugh highway when he said:

… more than a million orphans in Baghdad alone …

Bad form, and bad math.  With a population of about 7,400,000, a million orphans would make about 14% of the population!  That’s a bunch of homeless kids.  As an audience member, his over-the-top absurdity made that joke un-funny to me.  Maybe years of a dirt diet in his cave have dulled Osama’s mathematical skills.  He also took a risk in offending people of one particular religion and those backing a certain presidential candidate:

Allah sent down His final Book, the magnificent Quran …

Better not tell the Mormons that!  Bin Laden almost lost me when he worked new material based on current events. 

… mankind Is In danger because of the global warning …

Hmmm.  Al Qaeda … Al Gore.  I get it, but the punch line was a bit of a stretch.  However, as every great comedian does, he saved the killer line to close the show:

However, there are two solutions … The first is from our side, and it is to continue to escalate the killing and fighting against you … From your side … surrendering to Allah!

“Convert or we’ll kill you.”  Hilarious!  You can’t write anything funnier than that.  It is verbal slapstick.  I laughed so hard I almost didn’t survive the experience.

Personal note to Osama: Allah is laughing at you too, boy.

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I just returned from a wonderful and sweaty weekend of camping, jamming, and listening at the Strawberry Music Festival.  And from this I may have fallen out of love with Lucinda Williams.

Don’t get me wrong.  She’s a nice enough sort, and if like me you love gritty tunes that sag from pain, she can belt out a few that will hurt you.  But during her set on Saturday, she admitted to writing one which highlights a major songwriting mistake — something budding tune tailors should avoid.

She sang a yet-to-be-released tune called “Honey Bee”, which in an uncharacteristic turn is an upbeat ditty about her being in love.  With any luck it won’t last, because she should not be allowed to write songs when she’s in a good mood (at the same event, Harry Manx quipped “The blues isn’t about feeling bad.  It’s about making other people feel bad.”)

“Honey Bee” is a concatenation of cliches and predictable references.  I recall one verse going something like My sweet honey bee, I’m so glad you stung me.  It got worse from there.  This is not the worst example of cliche claptrap with a score.  A one-record group called Bloodline (who musically were an extremely talented bunch) were notorious for cliche abuse, including one tune called “The Good Luck You’re Having”, which contained an unbroken string of of that crud (I’m suspicious by nature I guess, hold my hand close to my vest).

The problem with cliches or with Williams-like obvious rhymes is that the audience is always disappointed (my two camp mates looked at each other, then at me, and groaned audibly when Williams sang the bee/stung line).  Audiences always listen to the words, and want something that is at least interesting (which doesn’t explain pop music, but then again nothing could).  Surprising the audience with the unexpected or a unique twist on the old line keeps their attention.  Think Tom Waits or James McMurtry.

When writing/revising a song, you should examine each lyric and kill anything when has been said by everyone else.  If you used a line that you heard from a friend, a neighbor, or on a TV sitcom, then end that lyric’s life without mercy.

It can even get down to a single word.  An A&R buyer once listened to my song One Heartbreak Away from the Grave, and said the use of the word “babe” was too predictable in a blues song.  He’s correct (though not so correct that I’ve bothered to rewrite that bit).  One word can kill the ownership of an audience, breaking the storyteller’s spell.

Sorry Lucinda.

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