The release from the BP facility here began April 6 and lasted 40 days. It stemmed from the company's decision to keep producing and selling gasoline while it attempted repairs on a key piece of equipment, according to BP officials and Texas regulators. BP says it failed to detect the extent of the emissions for several weeks. It discovered the scope of the problem only after analyzing data from a monitor that measures emissions from a flare 300 feet above the ground that was supposed to incinerate the toxic chemicals. The company now estimates that 538,000 pounds of chemicals escaped from the refinery while it was replacing the equipment. These included 17,000 pounds of benzene, a known carcinogen; 37,000 pounds of nitrogen oxides, which contribute to respiratory problems; and 186,000 pounds of carbon monoxide. It is unclear whether the pollutants harmed the health of Texas City residents, but the amount of chemicals far exceeds the limits set by Texas and other states.
ADDENDUM 3: It is PL date July 7, 2010 and the first independent toxicity tests from the massive oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico are now public (though not via mainstream media). The independent lab (which wishes to remain anonymous but will share its samples and findings with any other independent lab that requests them) has found that along with the spilled oil the water samples taken from Gulf coast beaches contains toxic levels of Propylene Glycol, one of the primary (but not the only) toxic chemicals found in the dispersant Corexit, which is being sprayed over the expanse of the Gulf in spite of a request by the EPA that it not be used. According to the independent report, Propylene Glycol was found in the water samples collected and delivered by independent film maker and journalist James Fox in a concentration of 360 to 440 parts per million. A mere two parts per million kills most fish, and a concentration of 25 parts per million could render the Gulf an Oceanic dessert, killing all marine life. What’s more, the chemicals in Corexit break down slowly and will be delivered via tides and wind and rain onshore (and throughout the ecosphere) for the foreseeable future. The concentration of Propylene Glycol found in the water samples is also harmful, if not fatal, to human beings. Individuals and families with young children are still swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, as there have been few public warnings of danger and no disclosure of the chemical pollution.
BEFORE I BECAME INVOLVED in Virtual Life, I tried to save whatever money I could manage to save—which admittedly wasn’t much, but it
was
something—in dollars. Of course that was before hyperinflation really got started, and before more than one hundred carbon consumption taxes were levied. As I said before, I work at a medical office, and the pay is lousy. After I pay rent for my two-room apartment (which has doubled in the past three years) and buy a few groceries (which now cost four times what they did before the big economic meltdown) and pay my utility bill (another
whopper
—Oh, how I only wish!), I have precious little left for other essentials like clothes and transportation and insurance. I haven’t been to the dentist in over three years, and even though I work in a medical office, I am not allowed to see the doctor. But I’m hardly alone in that regard, because very few people these days can afford to pay the twenty-five thousand-dollar yearly premiums for health insurance, so only very wealthy people have any sort of health care (not like Denmark, where Sonja lives, and where everybody has full access in their social system). The doctor for whom I work has only half the patient roster he once had, but I’m pretty sure his income keeps rising, because where he once employed only two insurance billing clerks, he now requires three. Which keeps my job more or less secure. I guess I’m lucky in that regard, because so many people that lost their jobs during the monetary crisis never found new ones. And even though it’s really tough to keep afloat economically, I do manage to stash a little bit of my pay each month, though I no longer save the money in dollars; I always exchange it for greenshoots.
In fact, exchanging dollars for greenshoots has turned out to be a pretty good investment strategy. Besides the fact that PL inflation would quickly render my small savings as a negative return instead of a positive one, much of my essential life is no longer in PL, it is in Virtual Life, and there greenshoots rule the economy. That fact aside, ever since the big meltdown the greenshoot has gained substantially in value against the dollar, so my small savings actually buys something in VL, where I would probably end up owing the PL bank money to cover devaluation margins (account holders actually have to pay banks back for currency losses due to devaluation of the dollar). Nobody in America has any money, except the very rich people, but their ranks are small in comparison with the general population, and they are seldom seen on the streets anymore. They would be way too conspicuous, and it probably would not be safe for them anyway. Stores have special hours for them to shop, and the security details at Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus are amazing in number and in the array of armor. The rest of us keep our distance and just try to get along.
The terrain in America has changed a lot since the economic meltdown. The rubble seems to pile up faster than it can be removed. Which of course presumes that there is someone to clean it up. Cities and states are broke, so neighborhood volunteers have assumed whatever maintenance is done on the remaining infrastructure, which is about as effective as a dog chasing its own tail. Of course it’s not their fault; they try as hard as they can to hold things together, even though they don’t get paid. Nobody wants to see the place he lives, and the place he loves, in such dire circumstances. Which is understandable since the people didn’t create this mess in the first place. Or did they?
Most people blame the government, and in my opinion that’s a good place to start. After all, the government is responsible for guiding the economy. Most of the people are just worker bees without any real knowledge or control over policies and practices. Still, in a democracy the people are obliged to stay informed, and to protest when governments do not act in the best interest of those they govern. At least that’s the plan. But for a long, long time, Americans have paid scant attention to government policies, and have refused to hold their leaders accountable. Now the accounts are all deficits, and nobody is laughing. The world’s largest block of consumers is now the world’s largest block of debtors, but it wasn’t always that way. We used to be savers, not spenders. We used to produce goods, now we merely exchange services. We used to earn our way, now we borrow to consume. Listen to the government line and we are told that everything is just fine (government speak: ‘you don’t actually see what you see’), and that consumption equals real wealth. Well, I don’t feel very wealthy these days, and I don’t know anyone else who does. In order to continue to consume you either have to actually produce something to exchange, or you have to borrow, and the borrowing cannot continue indefinitely. So it’s time to pay up, except we don’t have the cash. Not even close.
Which is why I’m glad to have bought a shit load of greenshoots when I could afford it. Just call me Forex Fizzy! I may not be able to buy groceries with greenshoots, but at least I can use them in the Commerce of Ideas—the only real capital. Fiat money is just paper, and these days you need a lot of paper just to buy toilet paper. Ideas may not be commodities, but they are every bit as real, and even more important. And maybe the underlying reason that American culture is imploding (just like the Twin Towers) is that ideas are systematically demeaned and devalued and derided while pseudo, superficial morals and meaningless material wealth are exalted. What a world!
Taking all this into account (Ha! ha! No pun intended—really!), I was more than a little skeptical when Kiz sent me an IM inviting me to a ‘little party’ at BloomEx in Virtual Life. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against money, but I’m certainly not absorbed with it either. I already knew all about BloomEx; that’s where the VL banks are located, as well as the VL Stock Exchange. I’d always viewed the REP as a mirror image of what took place daily on Wall Street in PL New York, or in PL Bern, or PL London. My interest in counters and traders has always been, shall we say, less than abundant; art and literature and even science fascinate me far more than games of buy and sell. But Kiz was adamant that I come with her; she said that a very auspicious event was scheduled to take place there, and that she had arranged for unique and inspiring company, and that I’d be foolish to pass up a lecture by the Keynesian Mastermind and former Fed Chairman Harlan Geltspinner, and a tête-à-tête with his arch nemesis, Daedalus Dunworthy of Radio Free America. Besides, after the interview she promised me lunch, then a night on the town in VL Las Vegas.
So off I go to BloomEx.
Whoosh…
Arriving at BloomEx, I realize I am early for my rendezvous with Kiz, so I take a seat at an outdoor café on Profit Promenade (the VL version of Wall Street) and order a cappuccino. I survey the massive edifices that line the mall, each a testament to the power of money: VL banks, brokerage firms, bourses, and mercantile exchanges. Emulations dressed in Brooks Brothers suits dance the money dance, some frantic, others smug in their success. Compared to Lit-A-Rama, this is a foreign land.
Halfway through my coffee, and none too soon, Kiz arrives. I have not seen her since our experience in New Orleans, which was, in PL time, several weeks ago. Her absence in Virtual Life, however, was pre-explained: New Orleans, post Katrina, had left her feeling emotionally drained, and Cassandra had told me that she intended to take a week or two away from VL to go on a retreat into the desert to take part in a sweat lodge ceremony with a group of friends from the Hopi Nation. Seeing her now, I have to say she appears refreshed and rejuvenated.
“Kiz, you look fantastic!”
“Thanks, Fizzy,” she says as she takes a seat. “You look wonderful, too.”
“And what a tan!” I observe.
“I thought it appropriate,” she explains. “Cassie’s been hanging out in the desert for the past two weeks, while Kiz has been dormant at the beach.”
“Which beach?” I inquire.
“Côte d’azur,” she clarifies.
“Well, you look stunning,” I confirm.
“After New Orleans, I needed a little R&R.”
“That was really something,” I agree. Looking her over, it’s not just the tan. Something is different, but I can’t quite put my finger on the change.
“So, what’s new with you?” Kiz asks.
“Same-o, same-o,” I say. “I’m hip deep in re-publishing
The Last Days of Socrates
.”
“Awesome!” says Kiz.
As she reaches into her bag and takes out her lipstick, I can’t help staring at her. Her emulation’s vitality is not only obvious, but also eye-catching. “You look different,” I tell her. “It’s definitely
something
…”
Kiz sits up very straight in her chair and pushes out her chest. “Notice anything different?” she asks.
Oh, my God! It’s her boobs! “What did you do?” I ask.
“I gave myself a boob job,” she says. “Not all at once. A little bit at a time.”
“Hollywood comes to VL,” I opine.
“Well, ever since Cassie got back from the sweat lodge, Kiz has been hanging out at the beach to earn a little squatting money. Fill my cup with greenshoots. Then I got an idea. I thought to myself, maybe if I lie out on the beach stark naked—you know, show a little emulation T&A—then I could put out a donations cup, too. Of course, the T&A had to be prime, so I did a little reconstruction job on my EM. It worked like a charm, and I’ve got a purse full of greenshoots. Look!”
Kiz opens her bag to reveal what surely must be tens of thousands of greenshoots. I am struck speechless. “What-ever!” is my incredulous response.
“Oh, Fizzy, lighten up.”
“What-ever!” is again my response.
“Well, I don’t care what anybody says, I like 'em! And the guys don’t seem to mind them either…”
“So…” I change the subject. “What’s all this about? BloomEx?”
“Wait till you see what’s about to take place here. And who we’re meeting here, too.”
“Do I really want to know?”
“Oh, yes,” says Kiz. “I think you want to know.”
Suddenly, and with no small fanfare, the emulation of the former Federal Reserve Chairman walks onto the mall and heads, briefcase in hand, for a stage that has been assembled in front of the First Bank of Virtual Life specifically for his address to VL bankers and traders. Just as Geltspinner appears in PL, Sharky Overbite is a real Rumpelstiltskin of a man, his ears as big as loving cups, his brow high and wrinkled, his hair thin and combed over, his nose large and protruding, his eyes watery and a bit weathered. But here in VL, one of his arms is missing and has been replaced with a tenor saxophone. Still, this pretentious, musical appendage notwithstanding, his clothing is impeccable—elegant and understated—a well integrated combination of Brooks Brothers and Yves St. Lauren. As Sharky climbs the stairs leading to the rostrum, the overflow crowd gathered to hear his remarks greets him with a prodigious round of applause. And a few raspberries, too… The chairman holds his hand high over his head to quiet the audience, then spreads out his papers and notes upon the lectern as he waits for the commotion to subside.
Neither Kiz nor I are inclined to leave the café to stand amongst the audience of blue bloods and jackals, because thanks to a high-powered audio system, we can hear every word from where we sit clear across the mall. As advertised, the title of the Chairman’s address is “Constructive-Deconstruction—A Means To Advancing Global Interdependence”. Constructive-Deconstruction? Now that’s a five-star oxymoron!