6.22.2006

U.S. Ousted from World Cup (Crapola)

As everybody knows by now, the U.S. men's soccer team lost their final match against Ghana today 2-1 in Nuremberg, Germany (of all places). Their pitiful 2006 World Cup record was 0-2-1. Landon Donovan was not able to repeat any of his glory from 2002 when he scored two goals in the World Cup. Coach Bruce Arena continues to blame everything on the refs or even the poor play of his players. I sincerely doubt Arena will continue much longer as the U.S. team's head coach. He doesn't energize the players, and he doesn't seem particularly brilliant with strategy during the matches. He does have a lot of experience, but hopefully we can find another American coach with a more winning attitude for 2010.

Clint Dempsey scored the only legitimate goal of the tourney for the U.S. (an Italian player scored their other goal by mistake). Here is a poignant quote from today's SF Chronicle (online):

"It was the first goal by a U.S. player in the World Cup in 338 minutes. Dempsey did his rap dance as Americans celebrated."

I saw Dempsey do this same "rap dance" thing in San Francisco after he scored a goal at the exhibition game against Japan several months ago. The main credit should probably go to DaMarcus Beasley for a perfect assist to Dempsey right in front of the goal, but I give credit to Dempsey for finishing the score with authority. Too bad the Ghana team scored their second goal less than five minutes later on a superbly executed penalty kick (that should never have been called, but that's beside the point now).

Who to root for in the second round? My favorites to watch anyway are Brazil (Brasil) and now Ghana. I would also like to see Mexico and Italy do well for various reasons. Having said that, England would be my top choice to win it all just because, well, I have British roots so what the hell. I think the rest of this World Cup is going to be fantastic. Too bad mainstream American TV hasn't got a clue and will no doubt screw us over in the coverage every chance they get.

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6.16.2006

Bloomsday Blog

Bloomsday in Dublin, 2006
"Owing to the death of former Taoiseach Charles J Haughey, and the state funeral on Friday 16th June, all Bloomsday events at the James Joyce Centre, 35 North Great George's Street, Dublin 1 have been cancelled as a mark of respect. The Board of Directors and the staff of the James Joyce Centre offer their condolences to the family."

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NOTE: Today is officially Bloomsday, the day James Joyce's modern novel "Ulysses" takes place (June 16, 1904). I plan to "blog" my day in tribute to Joyce, so this will be a long and probably mundane stream of consciousness ramble, in the spirit of Leopold Bloom's day of wandering through the streets of Dublin and coming home to his cheating wife Molly. It's an experiment that I shouldn't be doing because I barely have time for everything else I need to do; therefore it's a "grand idea," as my grandmother used to say.

Friday, June 16, 2006:

Wake up bleary-eyed at 6 am and look at the digital alarm clock. Remember it is 10 minutes fast. Roll over and sleep another hour. Wake up again and the little dog jumps up on the bed in anticipation. Sits on chest. Begs to be petted, so I oblige. Won't let him lick my face though.

Finally up, cursing the Angelina Jolie film that kept me up til after 1 am. She wants to save the world, a real crusader with very puffy lips. Get on my computer to find spam and more spam. Who are these people with so much time to waste my time? Feed the dog his daily ration of dry food. Now he is vomiting under the bed--choke, cough, gag. Poor little guy--clean it up with tissue paper and throw the wad in the toilet. "It's OK, it's OK, there, there... is your tummy upset?"

7:43 am and I need to get ready to go to work, to take a shower, brush the bacteria off the teeth, clear out crusty nostrils. Should I meditate? Check the Joyce Centre site and find all activities canceled due to a funeral, just like Paddy Dignam's funeral. Hmmmph.

Just clipped my fingernails, little crescent moons collecting in the sink wetness. One bird chirp, chirp, chirp relentlessly. A low-flying plane, or is it a helicopter, goes by overhead. The commuter train makes a loud sound pulling out of the Rockridge BART station, competing easily with the highway traffic. Sunny bright day so far. Will probably be hot. Glad I did my laundry last night. Should I do push-ups? Good question, screeching brakes somewhere down on College Ave.--probably a big delivery truck.

8:22 am and I just showered and shaved. It will be a good day because Pop-Eye came over and licked my right foot in the shower--he likes the water drops, I guess. I shaved in honor of Buck Mulligan, even though it's Friday. Question--what was Mulligan's Stew--vague childhood recollection of a TV show or something that I really liked. Now it's time to meditate, walk the dog. I did 50 push-ups and 30 crunches earlier, not bad, especially the push-ups.

Sat on my zafu for 29 minutes, cut short by a minute for several reasons. Wonder if I'll get to see Noah's dharma tonight in the city with Vinny? Big question after phone call last night to yolanda asking her to take Pop-Eye out tonight and feed him. She called while I was sitting, the phone right there underneath me but no way to answer without a total disruption of the session. I saw the hummingbird in the tree outside my attic window! Always good to see him, that long tiny beak, and I think he has a nest in my tree. In fact, he might be a she, a mother with little wee ones in there getting fed. The hummingbird kept flying away in a hurry and returning to the same spot in the branches, but there are so many green leaves I can't see the nest, just her silhouette. I have a voice message from Yolanda who lives next door. I will listen to it in the car. Need to get going, walk the dog, buy my bran scone and English Breakfast tea. Should I ask out the attractive one behind the counter at Peaberry's? Want to, she always says hello warmly. Just her kind nature. Feels too awkward to break that barrier between daily customer and barista. She seems so agreeable though, and that scar across her chest--makes her sympathetic. The doorbell is just ringing. Al my roommate is up, but he's in his underwear in the kitchen. Better go get it.

9:27 am and I need to leave for work finally, and yes, late. Nobody at the door earlier. Just Al standing on the porch in quickly pulled on shorts and a green and white striped Adidas shirt with his hair sticking up in the air, saying what a glorious day it already is. Planning his day on unemployment--going swimming at Strawberry Canyon pool. "You should have seen this woman there yesterday," he says to me. "She was obviously a serious athlete, maybe a track star. That's what I decided. Such definition, incredible."

Yolanda called while I was meditating and said she can take Pop-Eye out in the afternoon, but she has plans later. Then she asked if I have a hearing problem, why I had my TV up so loud last night. "At first I thought you might be acting out," she says, "But then I decided you just can't hear well." THanks Yolanda. She said not to let my feelings "bottle up" if I have a problem with turning my TV down at night, that I should communicate with her either verbally or via email. Yes ma'am. She is so attractive, too, I swear. And a massage therapist. Too bad it didn't work out. I didn't say much to the barista. The other one, the tall raven-haired woman who asked me once if my name was Greg, she waited on me, got my tea for me. I paid in quarters--$1.15 and let her keep the dime, plus I dropped another quarter into their big fish bowl of a tipper.

Drove to work and arrived at almost exactly 10:30 am. Wrote in the car while stuck in traffic, mostly on the bridge, as follows. Traffic stopped on the long Richmond Bridge under old glory blue sky. Behind white Chevy Astro van with TelePacific Communications sign on back and side. Driver of said vehicle tosses out a butt onto the bridge and see it was a cigarillo with plastic white mouthpiece like a toy saxophone. Can see Mount Tamalpais all green and volcano-shaped and San Quentin below it with cars in the parking lot glimmering like jewels, symbols of freedom. Listening to the new CD comilation put out by The Believer--"Cash it in on PCP... fruit of the vine, fruit of the vine..."

I was just interrupted by a woman named Victoria (I think) on my work phone, insistent ring. "Are you taping the benefit event tomorrow," she asked rather hurriedly, without much introduction except her name. I assume she must know everything--that I have been solicited by Sara to videotape the whole day's event, being in Communications as I am. I think this woman does it for a living (videography) and wants to take over. But I'm wrong--she's just a "customer" of the center (we call them yogis) and she's upset that it's sold out and she's left on the outside wanting in. I console her as best as I can. We plan to videotape this event, I tell her, which is unusual for us, and she says that's a really good idea.

Back to the bridge... I called Yolanda back and it went straight to VM with a bad connection, so I left a message without being sure if she would get it or not--disconcerting. Said sorry about the TV volume last night, talk to you about it later. Thanks for taking care of Pop-Eye. Still on the bridge, wasting precious time. ARAMARK truck in right lane, so large and white. Ah, look out, left lane ends up ahead due to a tar truck in trouble. Trailer came off, big ugly caboose full of black tar-like materials. Men standing nearby on phones looking about. 10:08 and late. Too much honey in my tea, bottom of mug is treacly sweet. Finally clears and we're off like race horses at the Derby. Now in Marin along Sir Francis Drake Blvd. Best bumper stickers in Marin: pink one says WE ARE CREATING ENEMIES FASTER THAN WE CAN KILL THEM. New film opening today at Fairfax theatre--NACHO LIBRE with Jack Black. Good Earth is on Claus, hmm. "God is Still Speaking" in Marin County--I see it every day, this banner.

Saluted the big stone our place is named for on the way into work past speeding cyclists in black tights. Said hello to the four horses in the pen and drove in. Frank, one of my bosses, knew what I meant when I wished him a Happy Bloomsday. Well, he went to Dartmouth. Warm, warm day already. Frank just walks by, tells me he's got a new Tibetan incense to burn at home called Awaken that is so strong he can barely stay in the room while it's burning, has to open a window. OK, now I have to prepare a big mailing for our volunteer named Denis with one "n" (he specified over the phone). They are setting up lunch for the Thai Forest monks outside across the meadow. 11:09 am. Kevin emails me back the following, after telling me he will add Donald to our white list (his typos):

"In this case, there was actually were an unknowing spammer. Someone at pimout7-int.prodigy.net was using that point to relay spam, and it looks as though Donald was logged in at the network point sending his email remotely via the Saybrook email server. So, the error message was valid, and Donald was an unfortunate bystander."

Sometimes I think we're all just unfortunate bystanders.

I just hung two buns and read from the book "James Joyce" by John Gross (out of print). He says: "One of the great achievements of Ulysses (is) to demonstrate as no previous novel had done the sheer density of the individual's mental life, the incredibly rapid succession and complexity of thoughts as they swarm past. And this plenitude gradually takes on a moral aspect: faced with such superabundance and so much inconsistency we surely ought to be a little more chary (charitable) than we were before of passing simple definitive judgments on other people."

In the news today:

Shoe Bomber Strikes Iraq Mosque; 13 Dead
By SAMEER N. YACOUB, Associated Press Writer
Friday, June 16, 2006
(06-16) 11:28 PDT BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) --
A shoe bomber blew himself up inside an important Shiite mosque during Friday prayers, killing at least 13 people and wounding 28, as violence persisted in the capital despite a massive security operation aimed at restoring order. The streets of Baghdad were largely empty of cars due to a four-hour driving ban supposed to prevent violence during traditional Islamic prayers held every Friday. There also is a curfew from 8:30 p.m. until dawn, and a weapons ban.

Meanwhile, my volunteer has arrived and he is working on the mailing. Mary Ann came in and I introduced her to "Our volunteer, Denis." She said, "Huh, you have a volunteer dentist?"

1:08 pm and I just returned from lunch. Denis the volunteer is still here in the office--"just stretching" at the moment. He is wearing a navy blue visor that promotes his favorite sport--bocce ball. They served us tofu hotdogs, potato chips, corn on the cobb and salad for lunch. Watermelon and chocolate cake for dessert. The cake was only for staff. The temperature keeps rising out there today, well into 80s, I'd say. We've just learned that a certain important psychologist was rushed to the hospital this morning. He is the headliner for our big event tomorrow which is already sold out--several hundred attendees registered. Apparently the last time he had to be rushed to the hospital for something similar, they kept him there overnight for observation, so the event tomorrow is quite iffy now. Actually, I would be very surprised if he is able to do it. We hope he recovers quickly but in no rush. I may have to stay late to help send out an email to everyone notifying them that this event has been canceled. That breeze in through the windows sure feels good.

3:26 pm and still no word on the good doctor's health. In all likelihood we will have to cancel the event. We've closed the windows in our trailer office and the AC is on, blowing right down out of the ceiling onto my bare head (and when I say bare, I am not mincing words). Our most important person has called me twice this afternoon to discuss the event tomorrow. He says we will obviously have to cancel without our special guest. I agreed. Many people are likely to be quite disappointed though. There was a crazy shirtless guy with long stringy hair in the bookstore earlier acting strange. He actually asked if he could have a discount on his merchandise for no reason! (I say this somewhat tongue in cheek.) Somebody asked our caretakers to go see if he was just a little weird or an actual problem. I saw him briefly and he just looked kind of overexcited--maybe the heat is getting to him.

Meanwhile we have to send out an important email soon, and the only guy with the know-how to do it from the tech side is currently at a conference for something personal at Yale on the east coast. He just sent me an email that he is ready to go. This is like some kind of NASA launch suddenly. Here is our recent email string:

him: Ready - I just need the text. The callee list has been sent to Irene. Peace.

me: The text is ready, but we are still waiting for final word. I'll let you know as soon as it happens.

him: Ok - I am going to go to Border's version of the Yale bookstore. I will take my trusty cellphone with me. I will be back in 30 anyway.

It occurs to me that people get fired over this kind of blogging. I've removed a few things just to try and keep it above the line. Maybe this really was a dumb idea. I hope not. I'm staying late and getting work done. Expect a long break now.
It's 3:55 pm.

4:55 pm and we have a positive update on the prominent psychologist's medical condition from Sara, whose email is as follows:

RE: Text for cancel netmail - NOT NECESSARY

thank goodness... All indications are that he is fine and will be here tomorrow as scheduled.
-Sara

It's 6:37 pm and I'm finally leaving work, driving over the GGB to see Noah in the city at 3rd and Fulton. Must be there in less than an hour though. Parking tough. Two sets of twin fawns were out front in the meadow late today, with their doe moms. The event for tomorrow is still on after all!

Someone says potatoes make you happy. Why not? Explains the Irish mehaps. The truth is emptiness, yes, but what the hell does that really mean? It sounds so, well, hollow.

It's 11:46 pm now, by the way. I just ate a late, late dinner at the Crepevine ( I had the Kyoto crepe with tofu, spinach, bell peppers and peanut saunce) on the corner in our neighborhood and then walked Pop-Eye again. I don't think Yolanda took him out after all, or fed him. Poor guy. Maybe she forgot. Maybe I'm mistaken. Al joined me at dinner. We sat on the sidewalk at a table he chose after he decided the one I chose wasn't right for him ("I can't sit here," he said.). When he was done eating, he licked his plate, literally, in big broad strokes, having ordered a dessert crepe with ice cream (vanilla) and nutella on top (also bananas and strawberries). I told him he was the most uncivilized man I'd ever seen, no manners, a real p-i-g. He said his mother would agree with me, but that he couldn't see wasting such fine chocolate sauce. I mentioned the invention of the spoon. Too late.

I can backtrack to earlier this evening because I took notes after leaving work. Here goes those notes:

7:13 pm and over the Golden Gate (red) with white sails in the shapes of little triangles cutting through the dark dappled bay--clearly a regatta in action. Now turning and whooshing through the General Douglas MacArthur Tunnel along Park Presidio off 19th exit. A lady in the car next to me at the red is putting on lipstick, her window rolled down, rolling her lips together, checking them, licking, tucking. Turning now onto Balboa and getting closer to my destination.

7:18 and even closer--6th, 5th, 4th, and ahhh 3rd, now Fulton, yes and park up the street facing east. Make it on time and see Noah outside smoking a cigarette in white t-shirt (not black). We almost wave to each other, there is an acknowledgement, but something holds both of us back. Or is it just me? I should have waved or gone up and said hello. Social leper, really, blast. There are younger people with tattoos everywhere swarming inside like hip bumblebees in black with no yellow stripes. Yellowjackets, should I have said? I take off my shoes, ascend the stairs, face the music.

Seated in a folding chair in a back corner. Other seats taken. More room this way. A bookcase behind me with titles under glass like "On the Mother," "The Philosophy of Love" and "Letters on Yoga." My favorite title is "Minstrel of Love." What again is a minstrel, in said context? Vinny is already seated and says it's not time yet when everybody suddenly stops talking at once. "Introduce yourself to somebody sitting next to you that you don't already know." I just sit there, stiff as a clam in the shell. Meet no one. Finally we meditate--that's why I'm here, I think.

Vinny talks us through the meditation like little children, guiding the way in the dark. Are we blindfolded? Good question. Noah is sitting next to Vinny, pale shaved head, wicked tattoos curving up the back of his neck on both sides. Vinny says things like, "If you want to change something about your experience, then you need to let that go, accept the moment just exactly as you find it." Smell of people's hot, stinky feet. It's hot in the room, like Bikram yoga class. I feel like I have to cough no matter what. Get up, step over the young hip urban African-American guy with cool cut-offs, get to the bathroom, drink water from the spout, cough it out (not the water, just the throat). Go back in. Repose. Traffic outside on Fulton with open windows. Vinny's voice. The faintest singing bowl being tapped three times. Hands together, bow it out.

We are on break. People are talking madly like the Beats before them in a darkened room at midnight with smoke in the air, only now there's no smoke, no drums, no drinks. We sip silence, drown in mental masturbation. Looking around, I feel older for this crowd, no I am at 40 too old to really relate to many of them. The ones who know me are not rushing up to say hello. I am too easy to ignore, apparently, not that I feel sorry for myself, quite the contrary. I'm doing well, really. Still, I feel like Leopold Bloom amongst the young medical students in the corridor at night, Stephen Dedalus one of the gang. Nobody will follow me later nor will I follow them.

One big dude I see everywhere has on a bright red t-shirt and on the back it reads: "Happiness is a pile of wood and a pig."

A guy standing nearby says to a girl, "This is San Francisco, nobody ever shows up on time." So true, so true.

Vinny starts it back up with, "Welcome everybody to this hot-ass room." That phrase echoes in my head for a while. I write it down. They take questions from the audience. In answer to one, Noah tells us boldly, "Following the breath is the kindergarten of meditation... It won't lead to transformation... It's not going to change the core causes of suffering in your life." Noah is not one to sugarcoat his dharma. (12:11 am already. Still counts, I think.) Noah continues, "Even full enlightenment will not free you from pain. If you think differently, you're in delusion. The Buddha was a realist." This is not all he says, just snippets.

Vinny speaks and quotes Sun Me (sp): "Every moment of thinking is keeping us from the freshness of what is happening."

Somebody's cell phone goes off and makes a strange musical sound that Noah moves his head to like he's dancing--"Lack of mindfulness is a lack of free will," he points out to much laughter. "The fucked thing is, present time awareness is not our natural state." Then he talks about the Buddha's concept of "monkey mind" which "swings from branch to branch." We constantly ask, "How can I avoid pain and hold to pleasure?"

"Our instincts say RUN and (in this Buddhist practice) we're being asked to sit in the fire of life (to achieve freedom, liberation, to being awake) when everyone is asleep. Challenge: Are we willing to do the work?" Most aren't, he reveals. The room is quiet. Did they hear? He says what a pleasure it is to be back at this place, to see friendly faces, to be with the "sangha" (that he helped found). It ends with Vinny leading a last moment of silence and mentioning the baskets outside for donation. Noah is giving Dharma Punx t-shirts out for $10 each (usually $20) so he doesn't have to take them back to Los Angeles. I almost take a white tee, but don't have ten on me. Leave two for two stickers that say, "SERVE THE TRUTH, DEFY THE LIE." Also take a little button, drop five in the teacher basket to prove I'm generous at heart. Noah is outside by the corner fire hydrant when I leave, smoking another cigarette and chatting with three punks (affectionately, please).

12:22 am and yes, I'm done, yes, that's it. Enough for this going like mad Bloomsday yes I say yes I do Yep.

Oakland, California 2006

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6.09.2006

Go See AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH (the Al Gore movie)

"In 39 years, I have never written these words in a movie review, but here they are: You owe it to yourself to see this film. If you do not, and you have grandchildren, you should explain to them why you decided not to."
--Roger Ebert, in his review of AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH

Last night I went to my usual meditation group with James Baraz on Thursday nights in Berkeley (home of everything left, I know, but that doesn't mean they're not right). James had a single purpose through much of his dharma talk after we meditated. His message was very simple and clear: "Go see the new Al Gore documentary on global warming called AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH." Perhaps predictably, this blog entry has only one message, as well: Go see the new Al Gore documentary on global warming called AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH!!

Actually, James offered some compelling thoughts on why he was really moved upon seeing this film, which is based on a slide show that Al Gore has given, he says in the film, at least a thousand times all over the world. James even read from two film reviews, including Roger Ebert's review and Mick LaSalle's (from The SF Chronicle). There is too much compelling information in the film for me to try and recreate it here. But I will quote extensively from Roger Ebert's review to end this blog entry (actually, I'll just give you the whole thing):

An Inconvenient Truth
Release Date: 2006
BY ROGER EBERT / Jun 2, 2006

I want to write this review so every reader will begin it and finish it. I am a liberal, but I do not intend this as a review reflecting any kind of politics. It reflects the truth as I understand it, and it represents, I believe, agreement among the world's experts.

Global warming is real.

It is caused by human activity.

Mankind and its governments must begin immediate action to halt and reverse it.

If we do nothing, in about 10 years the planet may reach a "tipping point" and begin a slide toward destruction of our civilization and most of the other species on this planet.

After that point is reached, it would be too late for any action.

These facts are stated by Al Gore in the documentary "An Inconvenient Truth." Forget he ever ran for office. Consider him a concerned man speaking out on the approaching crisis. "There is no controversy about these facts," he says in the film. "Out of 925 recent articles in peer-review scientific journals about global warming, there was no disagreement. Zero."

He stands on a stage before a vast screen, in front of an audience. The documentary is based on a speech he has been developing for six years, and is supported by dramatic visuals. He shows the famous photograph "Earthrise," taken from space by the first American astronauts. Then he shows a series of later space photographs, clearly indicating that glaciers and lakes are shrinking, snows are melting, shorelines are retreating.

He provides statistics: The 10 warmest years in history were in the last 14 years. Last year South America experienced its first hurricane. Japan and the Pacific are setting records for typhoons. Hurricane Katrina passed over Florida, doubled back over the Gulf, picked up strength from unusually warm Gulf waters, and went from Category 3 to Category 5. There are changes in the Gulf Stream and the jet stream. Cores of polar ice show that carbon dioxide is much, much higher than ever before in a quarter of a million years. It was once thought that such things went in cycles. Gore stands in front of a graph showing the ups and downs of carbon dioxide over the centuries. Yes, there is a cyclical pattern. Then, in recent years, the graph turns up and keeps going up, higher and higher, off the chart.

The primary man-made cause of global warming is the burning of fossil fuels. We are taking energy stored over hundreds of millions of years in the form of coal, gas and oil, and releasing it suddenly. This causes global warming, and there is a pass-along effect. Since glaciers and snow reflect sunlight but sea water absorbs it, the more the ice melts, the more of the sun's energy is retained by the sea.

Gore says that although there is "100 percent agreement" among scientists, a database search of newspaper and magazine articles shows that 57 percent question the fact of global warming, while 43 percent support it. These figures are the result, he says, of a disinformation campaign started in the 1990s by the energy industries to "reposition global warming as a debate." It is the same strategy used for years by the defenders of tobacco. My father was a Luckys smoker who died of lung cancer in 1960, and 20 years later it was still "debatable" that there was a link between smoking and lung cancer. Now we are talking about the death of the future, starting in the lives of those now living.

"The world won't 'end' overnight in 10 years," Gore says. "But a point will have been passed, and there will be an irreversible slide into destruction."

In England, Sir James Lovelock, the scientist who proposed the Gaia hypothesis (that the planet functions like a living organism), has published a new book saying that in 100 years mankind will be reduced to "a few breeding couples at the Poles." Gore thinks "that's too pessimistic. We can turn this around just as we reversed the hole in the ozone layer. But it takes action right now, and politicians in every nation must have the courage to do what is necessary. It is not a political issue. It is a moral issue."

When I said I was going to a press screening of "An Inconvenient Truth," a friend said, "Al Gore talking about the environment! Bor...ing!" This is not a boring film. The director, Davis Guggenheim, uses words, images and Gore's concise litany of facts to build a film that is fascinating and relentless. In 39 years, I have never written these words in a movie review, but here they are: You owe it to yourself to see this film. If you do not, and you have grandchildren, you should explain to them why you decided not to.

Am I acting as an advocate in this review? Yes, I am. I believe that to be "impartial" and "balanced" on global warming means one must take a position like Gore's. There is no other view that can be defended. Sen. James Inhofe (R-Okla.), chairman of the Senate Environment Committee, has said, "Global warming is the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people." I hope he takes his job seriously enough to see this film. I think he has a responsibility to do that.

What can we do? Switch to and encourage the development of alternative energy sources: Solar, wind, tidal, and, yes, nuclear. Move quickly toward hybrid and electric cars. Pour money into public transit, and subsidize the fares. Save energy in our houses. I did a funny thing when I came home after seeing "An Inconvenient Truth." I went around the house turning off the lights.

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