When the final histories of man are written, the authors undoubtedly will snicker at our nation's rabid, unhinged fear of lead. This simple and essential metal has become the boogieman du jour, as the United States continues to ignore real issues, such as the upcoming end of life as we know it (see related post, below). So, as Rome burns (or sits five years away from the event horizon of a supermassive black hole), we don't grab the pails and start a line; no, we panic. We panic about toys.
Ignoring the old addage that if it's a toy it can't be bad, some of our "leaders" have decided that bucking the free market is the answer with recall after hysteric recall. But their so-called solutions miss the mark on many levels – most notably in the role lead can play in the fast-approaching superhuman arms race. See, lead is the long-lost Super-Soldier serum. By fortifying our childrens' bodies with lead, we are making a generation of supermen and women: heavy metal warriors, who will soundly thump the marauding hordes of nanobot-enhanced Red Chinese repo-men sure to come.
Now, some decry theories that lead exposure can affect thought processes and personality. All the better: What's better than super-powered soldiers? Super-powered soldiers with hyper-violent tendencies and hair-trigger tempers, that's what. Booyah!
But, in all seriousness, when you get to the nutcutter of the whole thing, the nation suffers most when businesses are forced to accept any responsibility for their actions. The White House and the CPSC Chairwoman Nancy Nord are courageously toeing the line, but the nation's resolve is shaky and the siren song of regulation is wailing across the land of the free.
So, as a public service, I am responding with a song of my own. Well, not exactly one of my own, but this little ditty laid down by the stone cold Milton Friedman Choir is sure to put the lead back into the pencils of patriotic capatilists everywhere, even in China.
Bringing you such hits as "Pupu Platter," "Cribbage with Helen" and "A Gassy Demise"
October 31, 2007
What the candidates aren't talking about
As you may know, the ancient Mayans drew up an incredibly accurate calendar that runs out at 11:11 pm, Friday, Dec. 21, 2012. At that point, the sun will be aligned with the center of our galaxy for the first time in roughly 26,000 years. While some contend the Mayans simply lost interest in making calendars, many believe this date marks the beginning of the apocalypse, though no one is sure exactly how. Theories about earth's magnetic poles shifting, hyper-viruses, megatsunamis, ice ages and other global catastrophes abound. Personally, I am pulling for our solar system to get sucked into the giant black hole that resides at the center of our galaxy.
Now, as you can tell, December 2012, conveniently falls just after the next presidential election, so whoever wins the big prize next year potentially will have the end of the world on his or her watch. But do we hear the candidates talking about it? Of course not.
Let's face it: We live in a frantic, day-by-day, minute-by-minute world. 2012 is more than five years away – and that's a lifetime for politicians and people born in Darfur or Detroit. So, naturally, planning for impending cosmic doom is nowhere near the to-do lists of pols and the main stream media, as last night's Democratic Halloween Ball (the candidates dressed as vertebrates) proved. (Don't let the alien encounter red herring fool you, either: Lib-loving Tim Russert knows Rudy Giuliani has the interstellar warfare hawk vote locked up tighter than a cross-dresser's jewelry box, but his softball round of good cop vs. bad cop between Dennis Kucinich and Barrack Obama won't pull any Anakins over to the dark side.)
But 2012 is coming. That's a fact, but since it falls after the next election, what's to gain by talking about it? Whoever wins will be either on his or her way out or safely entrenched after being reelected, so it's a non-starter that – like so many other important issues (like esperanto and eagles) – gets swept under the rug. It's timing, really. Bad timing, and for this, I blame the Mayans, who obviously hoped to slide their apocalypse-agenda stone-dagger of pre-colonial revenge through our ribs without us noticing. Unfortunately for us, it's working.
Now, as you can tell, December 2012, conveniently falls just after the next presidential election, so whoever wins the big prize next year potentially will have the end of the world on his or her watch. But do we hear the candidates talking about it? Of course not.
Let's face it: We live in a frantic, day-by-day, minute-by-minute world. 2012 is more than five years away – and that's a lifetime for politicians and people born in Darfur or Detroit. So, naturally, planning for impending cosmic doom is nowhere near the to-do lists of pols and the main stream media, as last night's Democratic Halloween Ball (the candidates dressed as vertebrates) proved. (Don't let the alien encounter red herring fool you, either: Lib-loving Tim Russert knows Rudy Giuliani has the interstellar warfare hawk vote locked up tighter than a cross-dresser's jewelry box, but his softball round of good cop vs. bad cop between Dennis Kucinich and Barrack Obama won't pull any Anakins over to the dark side.)
But 2012 is coming. That's a fact, but since it falls after the next election, what's to gain by talking about it? Whoever wins will be either on his or her way out or safely entrenched after being reelected, so it's a non-starter that – like so many other important issues (like esperanto and eagles) – gets swept under the rug. It's timing, really. Bad timing, and for this, I blame the Mayans, who obviously hoped to slide their apocalypse-agenda stone-dagger of pre-colonial revenge through our ribs without us noticing. Unfortunately for us, it's working.
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