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I passed this (found via The Morning News) along to fellow capper Erik Wilson earlier today. Because it’s interesting and I am lazy, I’m copying and pasting it and my comments again here.

In a state that has tried for years to develop a well-rounded economy — tourism has boomed, fishing is suffering but still profitable — it is oil that continues to fuel the state treasury, and oil and gas that remain the cornerstone of Alaskans’ planning for their futures.

“It’s like cocaine,” said Kip Knudson, general manager of Era Aviation, a regional carrier. “Without it, we just don’t have the population base nor the property tax base to support the life to which we have become accustomed. We are about as Third World as you can get. We are completely dependent on resource extraction, and we don’t know what to do without it.”

I do like that the story presents both sides to the argument; there are signs that drilling might not be as bad as some environmentalists fear, and maybe it doesn’t all come down to ignorance and greed. But ultimately, I think the ends don’t justify the means. All evidence seems to indicate that there isn’t enough oil to help the Alaskan or national economy in the long run. Even if the wildlife refuge isn’t destroyed and our oil reserves are increased, it will just stave off disaster for a few years until the next oil shortage.

But I guess that’s at least half of why we’re in Afghanistan and eying Iraq.

Frankly, I could have used an state income tax refund of $1,850.28 myself, thank you very much.

Tom Tomorrow writes:

The Palestinians are a brutally oppressed people–and Israel is a nation under siege. The deaths of 400 Israeli civilians since the start of this latest intifada are senseless and tragic and maddening–as are the deaths of 1500 Palestinians during that same time.

And if you read that last bit and vehemently disagreed with half of it, and are already composing a response in your head to explain why the side with which you are aligned is morally superior to the side with which you disagree–well, that’s kind of the problem at this point, isn’t it?


As promised, some pictures, including some from Saturday night’s Python Society show. They’re not that great — I was backstage and otherwise busy for most of our three performances — but they’re what I’ve got. There’s posters, me in a silly hat, a list of the sketches we performed, a riveted audience, and a few other shots of this and that. The shopping cart wasn’t ours and was there when we arrived, but that’s past president Brad Blinkhorn’s popular skit, “The Last Temptation of Gary” taped to the microphone in front of it. I played the part of God. Naked pirates, penis songs, Scottish accents, and impersonating a diety… Is it any wonder I don’t discuss the details of these shows with my parents?

In her latest post, Maggie Berry asks: “What will happen when we have thousands of hours worth of tapes to review? It seems like it would take much longer to break out of grief when tangible reminders of a loved one are so plentiful.”

I cannot help but be reminded of this, where one can sign up to have personal e-mail messages sent to friends and family upon one’s death. A voice from beyond the grave, as it were. As a profitable business, I don’t think it really stands a chance, but it does reveal this impulse we all have to leave lasting memories for those we leave behind. Certainly, I don’t think the grieving process is helped by depriving one of all tangible reminders, but she does raise an interesting question: how much is too much? Can you leave loved ones with too many memories, and does that mean we should record less of our lives?

On Saturday, I performed with members of the Penn State Monty Python Society in a night of original sketch comedy and songs. Eventually, there might be pictures. I think it went about as well as we had expected. We had fun and were allowed to act silly, and that’s really all that matters. Nobody forgot their lines, and nobody in the audience booed. They didn’t always laugh — especially during a difficult second of three shows — but they didn’t boo. And somehow, inexplicably, we seem to have developed a small — very small — following. Between performances, a woman asked me quite politely who had changed the lyrics* to the penis song, and when we told the audience at the start of the first show that we would not be performing our “Necrophiliac Sketch” (wherein the University president has sex with a dead body), there was genuine disappointment. There’s just no accounting for taste.

* I have never been comfortable, for hopefully obvious reasons, with the last line of the fifth verse. In the original recording, I — or rather the character I am playing — compare my penis to “a long locomotive” and encourage “kids under twelve [to] ride for free.” I changed this to the less pedophilia-friendly “groups after twelve”, which makes me feel better, and which I think gets a bigger, certainly less hesitant laugh.