and the entire weird plethora of extreme environmental events we are painfully beginning to get used to:
We have a whole cast of players with colossal vested interests in a way of life that creates climate change: oil companies, coal companies, natural gas companies, timber companies, real estate developers, car and truck manufacturers and dealers, agribusiness, food processors and distributors, fast food conglomerates (who depend on agribusiness), highway builders, airlines, furniture manufacturers, factories of all kinds. And that's just a sampling.
But at the same time, we citizens have a growing shared certainty -- like the knowledge in the pit of the stomach of a married person who knows they are going to have to ask for a divorce -- that the increasingly wild earthly events through which we are living are not accidents, but a looming warning. A hammer over our heads. Most us feel it. With every new report of a "freak storm" or "monster fire" or "surprising string" of events, we feel it.
We know, more and more, that our way of life won't work. And we know that the planet is trying to shrug it off, and that if we don't change it, and change it fast, she will shrug us off with it.
But our moneychangers and their Capitol Hill employees don't want to hear what we know. We need pipelines, they tell us. We need more roads. We need timber, we need oil, we need mass-production grain-based agriculture, we need cheap patio furniture from South America and Asia. We need to do what we're doing. For just a while longer.
And meanwhile Hurricane Irene crashes into New York and an earthquake hits the East Coast and tornadoes spring up like killer weeds and scientists agree that we are in big trouble. And every morning when you and I walk out into the world we feel as if we are taking another step off a cliff.
Because we are.