Nothing earth shattering about this graphic, but it is slightly interesting that *Residual* makes up about 15% of the average family’s electricity use. Residual probably includes anything left over that takes very little electricity, but combined with other small electricity grabbers make up 15%. Stuff like your iPod docking station, popcorn maker, and electric bong.
Archive for the ‘environmentalism’ Category
The Mayor believes it is already too late. Not too late to save the environment, but too late to save the entire universe from idiot environmentalists who believe the world is doomed due to daylight savings time. Their numbers are legion, and they are growing like stink weed.
Proving to be about as popular to North American’s as soccer (sport of the future, and it always will be), electric car sales this year are coming in at somewhere between crapola and non-existent:
Fewer than 2,000 Leafs sold in the first three months of 2012. Nissan blames first-quarter sales on tight supplies.
GM abandoned its goal to sell 45,000 Volts in the U.S. in 2012 after its missed sales target in 2011. “We’re going to have to overcome the speed bump,” GM CEO Dan Akerson said.
Toyota sold nearly 900 of its new plug-in Prius in March, but that was 3 percent of the more than 28,000 plug-in and gasoline-electric vehicles that Prius sold last month.
Ford Motor Co. sold about 12 Focus Electrics in December and January to fleet customers — and none in February and March, said Erich Merkle, a Ford spokesman. The Dearborn automaker plans a slow ramp-up as it begins production this spring for retail sales; the New York area and California are the first markets.
A slow ramp-up? They sold exactly NO electric cars in February and March to fleet customers. That’s the slowest ramp-up The Mayor has ever seen in his life. At this rate, Ford will sell 36 electric cars in a year. The brainiacs at Ford might want to consider ramping things up a little quicker.
The Mayor believes that if it wasn’t for the government’s ridiculously tough, new federal fuel-efficiency standards, combined with the huge financial incentives (tax credits) to buy these lemons, electric car sales would be even lower. Like 90% lower. In Ford’s case, that wouldn’t make a difference as they don’t sell any electric vehicles anyway.
But electric is here to stay for at least the short term. Obama has dumped billions upon billions into his pet project, and companies like Solyndra, who have been taking huge loans and producing nothing, still flourish, because hands have to be greased, graft has to be grafted, and jobs have to be created even though they are a drag on the economy and a killer to the bottom line of legitimate car companies.
So all the talk about “ramping up” and “cars of the future” will continue, even though no one wants these pieces of shit. Throw more money down the money hole, at least we’re “saving” the environment (except for the batteries that will sit in a landfill for a trillion years, and considering electric vehicles produce just as much carbon in their overall cycle as internal-combustion engines, minus the electric cars that burst into flames, and also that electric cars get their energy from the electrical grid which is primarily supplied by coal-burning generating plants), but other than that (and they’re ugly and totally inefficient), they are the Cars of the Future!®
The sad part is that the opinion in the above column is no more ridiculous than anything that has come out of the environmental movement in the last 30 years.
On a kinda/sorta related note, has anyone noticed that virtually no-one is talking about global warming nowadays even though it’s 80 degrees in March in Canada? The Mayor believes the reason no one is talking about global warming is because secretly the environmentalists love it. Even mental defuncts like the scabs that are the environmental movement, even those rejects love the sun. They love warmth and the sun as much as the next guy. If 80 degrees in Mitchieville in March is the result of global warming, then pass The Mayor a can of aerosol, baby.
Present Obama administration investments in the electric car business are as follows: Fisker is a California company that was granted a Department of Energy loan of $529 million (one-half billion plus), they plan to build cars in Finland and the two-seater car retail cost is $96,985. Sales are unreported but I have never seen one. Tesla, another California producer (they don’t call it the Land of Fruits and Nuts for nothing), obtained an Obamaloan for $465 million, their car costs $109,000.00 and they have sold 120 cars since start-up in 2009. Last but far from least is the Chevrolet Volt, produced by Government Motors, which is about 50/50 owned by the United Auto Workers and the government. So the taxpayers, in fact, financed the entire project. The Volt costs $40,000 as a basic unit, and since start-up GM has produced 1,536 cars. The only remaining issue is would you invest in one of these loser mistakes?
Lest you suffer the delusion that automobiles are the only losing proposition of this administration, let me enlighten you. You may be cognizant of Solyndra, but you actually have no idea how bad this all is. The mainstream has reported on almost nothing except that the taxpayers are on the hook for one-half billion dollars, $535 million to be exact. The loss of 1,100 jobs in this case is incidental. There is enough payola in the Solyndra affair to fill Sing Sing, that spa on the Hudson. $10,000 to the University of Chicago Medical Center, $53,500 to the president’s election campaign 2008. The Medical Center was where Michelle, Barry, David and Valerie were employed. Solyndra was the company that gave the California Democrats a $7,500 present and in which the Democratic Committee of California had shares. Why do you suppose that just days before declaring bankruptcy Solyndra was able to re-negotiate their loan guarantee and chucked the taxpayers under the bus?
From this administration’s beginning, there have been 13 solar based loans. Every single one of them has been a loser and the two just made will also go belly up sooner than you think. Notable September losers have been Evergreen Solar with a loss of $5.3 million and SpectraWatt with $500,000. In fact, of the 13 outstanding solar power energy loan guarantees none, to our knowledge, is today operational. Information on losses has been removed from public records.
We are sorry to report that many lobbyists will take it on the chin in 2012 as McAllister &Quinn, McBee Strategic and the Rice Hadley Group (Condoleezza’s business) lost their Solyndra account. Total administration solar loan guarantees now exceed $6.5 billion. Not one has been repaid, shown a profit or produced reasonable sales in comparison to the invested monies.
The latest loan guarantee was to Sun Power (SPWR-NASDAQ) for $646 million to produce solar panels in Mexico. To accomplish that they opened a production plant in Mexicali, Mexico. Loans for cars to be made in Finland and now loans to make solar panels in Mexico … “Pass the Jobs Bill Now”! Wait – Sun Power has a capitalization of $800 million and a debt of $820 million. So we are in the process of loaning a bankrupt company $646 million that on the day of the loan reduced the value of the government loan to $626 million. Furthermore, the debt load of Sun Power just exploded to $1 billion 466 million and assets of $800 million, or a net loss balance of $666 million. Let me guess – you would immediately invest in this mistake? Didn’t think so!
The very next issue is Tonopah Solar that was part of the Dr. Chu-issued $1.383 billion loan guarantees made on the last day of September. Oh, I almost forgot. The Sun Power loans are reported to create jobs at a cost of $23 million per job. “Pass the Jobs Bill Now”! The Tonopah loan is for $737 million and according to their Internet site will create 50 new jobs – simply outstanding! That is better than the others, at only $1,474,000 per job created. Please. Please, someone, send Dr. Chu a calculator! Just by the way, Tonopah Solar is a subsidiary of another subsidiary and is to build this plant on technology licensed from a third source. No plant like this has ever been built so you can understand why the private sector is leery of financing it.
That brings us to ethanol…
Solyndra – It’s a lot worse than you can imagine.
HT – J.M. Heinrichs
Throughout the Scottish Highlands are dotted the stone keeps of the various adminstrations that existed to regulate trade, codify weights and measures, and collect taxes. These keeps have well made Roman foundations, overlain with renovations from various architectural periods, be they MacGregor, Balliol, Bruce, or Stewart. In that time, the traditional music of the multi cultural country of Scotland could often be heard across the hills and glens, as the various communities (known by a diversity of names as MacDonald, Sinclair, Ross, and Fraser) was played by peace loving farmers who went about their business, pursing such activities as cattle rearing, fishing, raising wheat, and reiving * .
On market day, sometime in the 1640’s (the written text from which I refer is unclear) a message was delivered to the village leader, an elected representative of the immigrant population which lived behind the stone curtain wall, settled there by some distant power acting on the designs of the nations capital in Edinburgh. It could have been Ottawa, for the policy of settling office workers and ancillary support staff was as common to whoever was holding the keys to that past power in Edenburgh, as it was to the modern progressive state of Canada. The village leader was not of the same heritage as the surrounding agricultural community. He lived in some fine rooms in the keep, he wore fine clothes (he had three cloaks, servants which he called assistant and secretary, and a horse hair bed) and was quite the richest man in town. The original capitalists of the area had long ago had their ill gotten capitalist wealth redistributed; they lived in the hills, and never complained about losing their wealth to the central state. They were learning to embrace diversity, and the village leader was there to guide them along the path of political correctness. He oversaw the collection of taxes, levy of fines, and the enforcement of building codes. His name is unimportant, except to the point that he was not a Scot, neither a lowland Scot, and certainly not a highland Scot.
The messanger seemed agitated. He pushed his way to the throne that the village leader sat upon (a smaller version of the chief tax collectors in the capital city) and spun some tail of smoke on the horizon, screams in the blowing wind, and running horses without riders. The village leader was unconcerned. He waved off the concerns of his fellow immigrant administrator: the natives in the area were still unassimilated into the ways of political correctness, and reacted to collectivist wisdom with surly indifference. There was ever a racist or sexist sentiment on their lips when the wealth redistribution team arrived in villages and hamlets.
The Clan Fraser has risen. the note read. The village leader turned pale. He stood up and waved his hands around, silencing his clerks who were tallying a green fee on cabbages and peas. Gather in the livestock, he said, bring the hay and oats into the walls, then he turned to his human rights chief, a Saxon martial arts teacher, and said, fill the moat with gunpowder.
There was much hustle and bustle as the multi cultural community prepared for the coming music festival. The reputation of the Clan Fraser preceeded itself. Their musicians, a variety of skilled artists with the drum, fife, harp, and bagpipe, had tunes easily recognized. Other communities had other tunes. From the distinctive tunes growing louder in the distance, everybody knew it was them, the Fraser. People gathered their belongings and prepared festive gear: they donned coats of mail over leather jerkins, wore party hats of iron, girded bar-b-que tools around their waists (axes, dirks, poignards, hammers, and swords) and prepared festive noise makers (muskets). As this was a music festival with the Clan Fraser, they put two lead balls in each musket. One ball would not do the job.
The village leader noticed that the people outside the walls were not rushing to bring their festive materials within the walls of the keep. He blinked twice, then he shouted close the gates. He ran towards them himself, and then stopped dead. There was a sudden increase in the volume of the music selections: the Fraser had been hiding in the village surrounding the keep: they appeared suddenly when the gate started to close. The village leader pushed one of his larger assistants towards the gate, then turned one hundred eighty degrees and ran to the central strong building of the administration complex.
Of course, it was all good fun. Totally in keeping with the cultural norms and moral value system of the times. A good quarter of the village leaders administrative staff made it to the central strong building, where the tax records were kept for safe keeping. The Fraser kept up a merry serenade of their favorite tunes, all the while livening up the event with noise makers and traditional shouts of delight. They piled wood around the central strong building, and set it alight. This was not done very often, and was reserved for special occasions. The village elder peeked out at the festivities through a loop hole, at least until the merry makers began to pile horse hair mattresses, wet straw, and manure on the fires, in celebration of recycling, which was on their mind.
By repetition, the village leader soon was familiar with all the favorite and traditional tunes of the Clan Fraser. The smoke from the fires had driven the village leader to the flat roof of the stronghold, where he could watch the traditional games and events the Fraser shared with others, especially administrators from abroad who oversaw regulation and wealth redistribution.
Our records of this music festival ends at this point. According to tradition, some intrepid buskers of the Clan Fraser climbed to the roof of the stronghold and no more is heard of the village leader again. Perhaps he was pensioned off, have used up his bankable sick days. The keep was redeveloped by the Hanoverian school of architects, but the music of the Scottish people can be heard to this day. You can listen to it as you drive through the night, perhaps with your windows rolled down in the sweet evening air. You can wake up the spirit of those times as you do.
I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.
Finally, something you can do to take back the planet.
I was watching the evil white male far right news media, the Sun network, and they mentioned this book, Deep Green Resistance.
I found them on the internet.
I followed the links under recommended reading to this * .
You can wallow around in that rich mud hole to satisfy your inner pig; me, I channeled my inner river reptile.
Any methods used by the Greenshirts are methods you can use too. The state does not suppress or condone the Greenshirts, so their methods must be OK.
Decisive Ecological Warfare.
Networking and Mobilization *
Sabotage and Asymmetric Action *
Systems Disruption *
Decisive dismantling of infrastructure *
Check it out before the evil white man suppresses this.
I, Fenris Badwulf, (note, the name refers to one of natures gentlefolk, the Wolf)
I met up with the Subversive Consumer this last week. There was an angry frown on his face. He needed a no frownie brownie * but he has a job and cannot use the stress coping mechanisms of the tax spenders. They take samples of his urine at his workplace. The trades union movement in this country does nothing about this. They are too busy fighting for progressive causes, like safe injection sites at battered women’s shelters, to bother with worker’s rights. So, the subversive consumer is denied the dope he subsidizes in others. There is no pharmacist between him and pagan worship of the forest gods of anger. The Subversive Consumer has given me his permission to tell you that he worships Set, the Snake God. In a way, this is his testimony. It is also about stupid recycling regulations that harass the people like the Subversive Consumer. Choose wisely which metaphor to follow.
The Mayor has heard quite a bit of talk the last few days about how earth hour really seemed to have fizzled out this year. It’s as if someone turned out the lights on earth hour, put it in a recyclable bag, brought it to the compost pile and left it to rot.
The Mayor didn’t *celebrate* earth hour this year, as he finds it hard to celebrate losing something. In this case, lighting. Ask anyone who has ever lost their electricity due to lack of payment, and they’ll tell you that their celebration was rather subdued. It’s hard to celebrate when you’re crying and on the verge of suicide.
If anything, we should all keep our lights on to show solidarity to those who lack electricity, like the non-payment peoples and third world folk. “We turned on our lights because we’re thinking of you.”
Earth hour has become as big of a joke as Earth Week, Earth Month, Earth Year, Gorebal Warming, and Daylight Savings Time. Anyone who pays an electricity bill certainly doesn’t need to be reminded to turn off their lights. When The Mayor’s legitimate children forget to turn the lights off, The Mayor gives them a gentle reminder via his CCM hockey stick. And I’m not talking one of those sissy composite sticks either, but rather one composed from the wood that came from a sustainable forest in northern British Columbia, the kind true conservationists would beat their kids with. I suppose you could say The Mayor is a real friend of the environment.
Earth hour is weak and has run its course, mostly because the average person refuses to take their marching orders from a bunch of spoiled, whiny, unkempt malcontents. Perhaps if these folks had jobs, paid a mortgage and utilities, well, maybe we could take them seriously.
Most likely not.
I woke up this morning (I know, it sounds like I’m singing the blues) and I couldn’t for the life of me remember whether today was Earth Week™, Earth Day®, Earth Month©, Earth Hour¥, Earth Minute♥, or Earthapolooza∑. It really makes a big difference to me, as without knowing, I’m not sure what to wear. So I went with the old reliable: bell bottoms, leather vest no shirt, birkenstocks, birkensocks, headband, and I rubbed myself up against a skunk in heat and got high on a vat of Elmer’s glue.
It’s all about image, baby, it’s all about image.
**By the by – is that picture freaking anyone else out other than me?