Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Matt Ridley writes in the Huffington Post:
When I was a student, in the 1970s, the world was coming to an end. The adults told me so. They said the population explosion was unstoppable, mass famine was imminent, a cancer epidemic caused by chemicals in the environment was beginning, the Sahara desert was advancing by a mile a year, the ice age was retuning, oil was running out, air pollution was choking us and nuclear winter would finish us off. There did not seem to be much point in planning for the future. I remember a fantasy I had – that I would make my way to the Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland, and live off the land so I could survive these holocausts at least till the cancer got me.
I am not making this up. By the time I was 21 years old I realized that nobody had ever said anything optimistic to me – in a lecture, a television program or even a conversation in a bar – about the future of the planet and its people, at least not that I could recall. Doom was certain.
:
I began to pay attention and a few years ago I started to research a book on the subject. I was astounded by what I discovered. Global per capita income, corrected for inflation, had trebled in my lifetime, life expectancy had increased by one third, child mortality had fallen by two-thirds…
:
Not only are human beings wealthier, they are also healthier, wiser, happier, more tolerant, less violent, more equal. Check it out – the data is [are] clear. Yet if anything the pessimists had only grown more certain, shrill and apocalyptic. We were facing the `end of nature’, the `coming anarchy’, a `stolen future’, our `final century’ and a climate catastrophe. Why, I began to wonder did the failure of previous predictions have so little impact on this litany?
We’re bored.
I would say all the predictions of failure and doom have themselves been doomed to failure, save for one: As life becomes more comfy and we’re faced with fewer real challenges, the bottoms of our feet and the palms of our hands, along with our bellies, have become soft. And the skin has become thin, thin, thin. Everything offends save for that which is designed, conceived and expected to say absolutely nothing.
We start to elect leaders who we must think are wonderful, pure and powerful, we aren’t allowed to utter a syllable of doubt about it — and yet they’re never actually responsible for anything.
We start to loathe ourselves. You’ll notice the world is never about to end because of an overpopulation of cats or dogs. Or locusts. It’s never because of too many cows farting. It’s always my species, but not me. How conveeeeeenient.
This means I get to toss out some orders and get extra cranky if people hesitate to follow ’em. The prophesies of doom always seem to lead back to that. Do what I tell you to do, and stop doing what I say you shouldn’t be doing, or the planet will die.
Armageddon is not breathlessly anticipated. Very rarely does anyone talk about the entire world ending, for any reason.
— Item #42 from My 42 Definitions of a Strong Society.
What Mr. Ridley saw in his youth was a great big gaggle of bossy obnoxious people, trying to take the place over. Which they did for a little while. Until we pulled our heads out of our butts. For the last couple of years we’ve been cramming ’em back in.
Hat tip to blogger friend Gerard.
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