Like the vanishing honey bee population, it is becoming readily and rapidly apparent that there are fewer and fewer reasons to say sweet things about our treatment of Mother Earth. Pardon me for not feeling like celebrating, during times like these, but for billions of bees it’s been, tragically, Dearth Day for awhile, now, which can be considered a Colony Collapse Disorder of global magnitude. Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that the colony collapse won’t stop with the bees?
Show me the honey!
Bill Maher rants eloquently about the birds and the bees on The Huffington Post. When it comes to planet stewardship, each of us must do our part. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Corporate and consumer gluttony, which demands continued growth in a childish, unsustainable fashion, will be the death of us all, if we don’t put the brakes on this drive-through disposable mindset that is quickly careening out of control. The daily reaming of Mother Nature by all her children is sick and incestuous, at best, and when Father Time gets hold of you, it won’t be pretty.
Last time I checked, the planet isn’t getting any bigger — it’s a small world, after all, Newt. Half of us keep popping out babies like the queen Alien momma that loved to torment Sigourney Weaver so well, because the other half – the worker bees – are just slavin’ away, night and day, tryin’ to get that little bit o’ honey, which is a huge part of the problem. Such prolific procreation is not the bees knees, so keep those fuzzy little legs together and stop knockin’ boots or gettin’ buzzy with the booty, next hive over, unless you cap your stinger, first. Otherwise, it’s only going to get worse.
As a species, we need to straighten up and fly right, or we’re suddenly going to disappear by the billions, just like our tiny winged friends. It may be too late, already, but no reason to just stand around and watch the paint peel on our shiny new four-door Apocalypse. Yes, it’s the prototype for the 2012 Grand Mayan Ecliptic, just three years away. Hmmm, and Einstein supposedly said that mankind would not survive more than four years if the bees disappeared. Coincidence?
Even the Titanic had survivors. There may be little hope for turning this luxury liner around prior to impact, but an iceberg looming out of the fog in the midst of global warming doesn’t seem to be nearly our biggest concern, perhaps. Ironically, it is the mysterious disappearance of the tiny honey bee looming large on the event horizon, which imminently threatens our super-sized waistlines, super-sized egos and very small minds.
Maher also cites one of George Carlin’s famous rants about man’s insignificance and soon-to-be-going-down-the-drain-demise, which is a favorite of mine, as well. It’s hard to tell if Carlin is truly so cynical and jaded, sometimes, or if it’s just his shtick, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Like Maher, his is a brilliant mind and to dance along the razor’s edge of genius and madness for this many years in the limelight, without losing an ear, is an enviable achievement.
I guess I still care too much and think it’s possible to salvage something from this mess we’ve made. For years, I only rode a motorcycle, thinking I was doing my small part for the environment. After eight cross-country trips and thousands of miles on my still-calloused ass, I don’t sense that it made a dent in the global scheme of things, though parking was a breeze. Now, I’ve been walking for over two years and I will never own another fossil fuel-burning vehicle unless it’s pollution-free and contributes to a sustainable environment.
For seven years, I was a vegetarian. It was a time of self-discovery about health, spirituality, environment and my relationship to all things. Then, on a drive back down the coast from San Francisco, a piece of salmon called my name and I answered it. After just as many years back on the meat wagon, I’ve decided, once more, to be a vegetarian. Last week, I flipped the switch in my head that tells the stomach what it will be having for dinner and, this week, I’m a vegetarian, again. Next week, who knows, for it depends upon my mood. We humans are moody.
This has little to do with god or being kind to animals. I’m trying to be kind to the planet and all of its inhabitants, but if it comes down to my survival, I have no qualms about bashing that little bunny’s head in and making stew. Who’s to say that carrots don’t cry when you cut them? If you tell me there is a difference, then I can tell we won’t be dining together, often. However, what you eat definitely impacts the planet.
Most people are just struggling to survive, period, but we all contribute to the standard of living for those far beyond the stone’s throw from our communities. Sadly, America consumes the vast majority of energy, goods and services, yet is only about five percent of the global population.
Now, as the imperialist wizards on Wall Street and in the White House continue to stoke the fire of commerce with China, American consumers are force-feeding a seven-headed hydra of unsustainability that is gorging itself on vital resources from all four corners of the world. Made in China is not smart. Think before you buy.
In just a few years, you will see where this leads. Without major breakthroughs in conservation, recycling, clean and abundant energies, and independence from fossil fuels and foods gathered and grown beyond our shores, there will be a major world war over resources. The strategic positioning of America in the Middle East is just one small step in that direction, no matter how horribly bungled the neo-cons’ PR campaign for New World Order has been.
My cell phone will be turned off within two weeks. I use it very little, disliking the potential health risks from a device that’s beaming energy directly into my brain. Experts assuring me there is no cause for concern don’t sway my mind, which I’d like to retain. I also didn’t believe over half the country when they agreed to go to war in Iraq. Call me skeptical, at best. And quit bitching, you never called, even once.
We get enough electro-magnetic and radiation pummeling from a variety of sources, these days, which is far beyond what is prudent. It’s affecting the migratory patterns of birds and animals, plus scientists have definitely detected the effects of cellphone towers on the plight of the honey bee. This all adds up, to me, and I never claimed to be a mathematician.
Friends ask me what I’ll do in an emergency. I tell them, “The same thing I did for forty years prior to carrying a damn cellphone.” I survived, then, and I’ll survive, again, the good lord willing and the creek don’t rise. It’s simply a readjustment. I didn’t cry too much when they cut my umbilical cord, at birth, so I doubt I’ll throw a hissy fit over not receiving unnecessary calls during my walk through the park, while trying not to step on the few bees we have left. Frankly, the “Can you hear me, now?” joke is no longer funny.
Humans are their own worst enemy. No other species works so hard to kill itself. It’s amazing we’ve survived for this long. Why are we so interested in being connected, if no one’s listening? I’m shutting off the computer, now, and going on a walk before work. If Einstein calls while I’m out to tell me the truth about the 2012 Mayan elliptical and whether we should be worried, then I guess I’ll miss that call. Maybe that’s what the Mayan phenomenon is all about — merely getting our worlds in order.
Don’t worry, bee happy. In five more years, apparently, we may be getting rid of all the planet’s problems . . . humans. Now, that’s a Far Side calendar event worth framing.
The Kat
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