[A PLANET’S RANSOM] – CH. 1


 

I’m currently up to Chapter 62 of a novel tentatively titled [A PLANET’S RANSOM], in which one of the leading antagonists is a highly intelligent but, even more so, wicked woman named Rebecca Bates, who also happens to be a trophy hunter. Her same gender opponent, one of the leading protagonists, is an equally intelligent but, even more so, conscientious woman named Shannon Stone. These two women are almost twin-like in appearance, but diametric opposites in moral, ethics and conscience.

If the book ever becomes a movies, I would love to have Sharon Stone play both roles, I think for fairly obvious reasons.

To demonstrate the wickedness of Rebecca Bates, here is a teaser in the form of Chapter 1. I hope by the end of the chapter, you will have begun to loath her. But be forewarned, this is just a fore-taste of her true nature:

——————————————————-

(Note: This is just a draft. It will be polished when the manuscript is finished. Please excuse the typos.)

On this day, Rebecca Bates killed twenty-five lions with a single arrow. She did not have an accurate count, nor did she much care. But she was aware of the consequences before they occurred, and she did not care at all.

Most people have a purpose in life. Some don’t. And those who have purposes in life are in two main camps – the good and the evil. Rebecca did have a purpose in life. It was continuous and evolving. At that point in her life, it was to hunt the Big-5.

Up to two months before, her general purpose was to hunt every huntable African species, and have at least one head from every species mounted on her rec-room wall. Last time she looked, three of the four walls were crammed with taxidermied animal heads, from duiker to monkey to jackal to hunting dog to hyena to boar to ostrich to impala to wildebeest to zebra to elan to hippo to giraffe. At the centre of the back wall was a cheetah. But the front wall was blank. This wall, she has reserved for the cape buffalo, the leopard, the lion, the rhino and the elephant – her now desperately desired BIG-5.

The primest of the prime specimens, please. No compromise there, thank you. An elephant, for example, the tusk length record was 3.264 meters (10 ft 8.5 in), and weight-wise it was 102.7 kg (226 lbs 7oz). She was not going to accept any elephant with less than 10ft/100kg tusks. And given the fact that, thanks to ivory poaching and trophy hunting, the average tusk weigh has been declining by as much as 1.5 pounds per year in recent years, she felt an overwhelming sense of urgency. The big tuskers are disappearing. She must have hers before he’s gone.

Oh, and she had set a certain criterion for herself. She would take them down, one by one, not with a high-powered big-bore rifle, but with her 75-pound compound bow, for the buffalo, the leopard, the lion, even the rhino, and even the elephant. It started with nothing more profound than a dare when she watched a TV-show on women bow-hunters. At first she just wanted to join their rank. But gradually, she began to want to outdo all of them. She took up archery in earnest. Measuring just 5’3 and 120 lbs, she could hardly draw a 45 lb bow at first. The African bow hunting rule stipulated a minimum draw weight of 70 lbs for the Big-5 – for deep penetration especially for the rhino and the elephant. So she put herself through a vigorous body building program. When she landed in Africa for the third time with her favourite hunting bow two months ago, she was a sleek and muscular 140. And with her long blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, she was the mythological huntress Diana personified, or so she saw herself.

A woman named Shannon Stone, the Vice President of a ten-thousand-members-strong group called the Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC, as in “We will, we will, GAHC YOU!”), once published a blog series titled [The 12 Most Vile] female trophy hunters of the time. Rebecca Bates was the second. She did not make top spot because it was occupied by one Sarah Palin.

To claim her Big-5, and to fully savour every tiniest nuance of the chase, Rebecca had set aside six weeks. Now, into the third, she had bagged a trophy-sized Cape buffalo and a big tom leopard. No doubt these were each a thrill and a half, but she could not fully concentrate on them even when the hunts were in progress. To her, they were first and foremost the necessary steps to her goal, the means to three ends, namely her lion, her elephant and her rhino. She found herself somewhat robotic while firing three arrows into the buff, no more animated than while target shooting. And the leopard, well, the challenge was in locating one, and it was not her doing, but that of her very handsome hunting guide Travis Waltrip. When it came to shooting it, she even felt a tinge of contempt for the animal, for being the least of the Big-5. She had her skinner bring her the pelt, then matter-of-factly handed it over to the taxidermist, and that was that.

Since then, for five days now, she had Travis drive her far and wide to the far corners of the hunting concession, looking for the king of kings. In all, they found seven adult-sized males, three with voluminous blonde manes larger than the other four with dark manes. Travis identified the three as being the pride males of what he called the AAH pride, so named for Achilles, Agamemnon and Hector, which comprised seven lionesses and twenty four cubs of various ages from two months to over two years. The other four were a band of young brothers which he called the Gang of Four, or GOF, which had been evicted from a neighbouring pride about a year before. As was the lion’s way, the GOF roamed from territory to territory, making incursions and leaving their calling card in the form of their royal, scent charged urine, thereby checking out the strengths and vulnerabilities of the pride males occupying those territories. Though they had indeed tested the formidable AAH, they had steered a wide berth from that kingdom, There were weaker prides to target, and they were seldom seen in this neck of the woods. But lions being opportunists, they were never far away either. At night, Rebecca could hear their roaring contests, which sent thrills up and down her spine. By and by, she found herself losing interest in the GOF, and even when she dreamed, it was about a big blonde leonine Hercules.

For the last four days, she had patiently glassed AAH, minutely examining each – their relative sizes, their mannerisms, their blemishes or lack thereof, even their facial features. Especially their facial features. She would want none but the handsomest and most majestic adorning the front wall of her rec-room back home. Nothing an iota less would do.

Day before yesterday, she had firmly made up her mind. Achilles was hers, and not even Agamemnon and Hector combined could shake her from this her new obsession. 

Yesterday, she spent the entire day watching Achilles alone. When Agamemnon and Hector crossed his path, they were but a blur. Only Achilles stood crystal clear in her eyes. She had fallen in love.

So far, she had held her peace from the equally patient Travis, who had merely sat by while she did her interminable telescopic scrutiny of what he took to be the entire AAH pride, cubs and all, plus the occasion glimpses of the GOF, without asking a single question, while surreptitiously admiring her curvy form obliquely from behind, and day-dreaming his own manly dream of romantic victory and sexual conquest. This was somewhat excusable, at least in his mind. He’s been out here in this wilderness for eight months straight, and client after client had been big fat bankers or lawyers or politicians, or else the odd hitherto surviving drug lord. Women-wise, they had been nubile mistresses hanging on to the trunks of their money-trees, or dumpy and fretful wives trying to keep their spoiled broods in check. Besides, with Rebecca shelling out $1250 per day for his just being there, she could take all the time in the world indulging in her inexplicable distant lion-viewing to her heart’s content. Then came the evening and the obligatory camp fire, and in the sensual flicking of the flames, her desire was revealed. 

“Travis darling, bring me another cup that lethal brew of yours, will you?” she crooned.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Ms. Bates,” said he rising dutifully from his camp chair.

“Are you really that easy to please, Travis? Anyway, now that tomorrow shall be the day, you may address me as Rebecca, but kindly do not stray into Becky, much less Reb.”

“I will be your servant to the end, Ms… uh… Rebecca. Your wish is my command,” he said, while placing the second cup of strong coffee into her manicured yet powerful hands.

“And my desire is my wish.”

He raised one eyebrow slightly, and lifted one corner of his lips, barely. “And what might your ladyship’s desire be?”

“Not so fast, Mr. Casanova. I’m referring to the lions at the moment.”

“Oh, but of course,” he replied awkwardly, but regrouped with a touch of professionalism, “So, you have selected your quarry?”

“Indeed I have. Indeed I have,” she murmured, as if confessing to the fire.

“Who has captured your desire? Which lion, I mean.”

“Achilles. He’s the one. He is mine.”

“Whoa. No no. Sorry Rebecca, he is out of bounds.”

“And why not?” She cast him a sidelong glance, which became a steady stare.

“He is the poster boy in my website and my show piece to all clients. His purpose in life is to entice them to cross the seven seas. Once they have set foot on this land, his task is done. It will be other, lesser, lions that will take the bullet, or arrow, as the case may be.”

“Ah, you have hit the nail on the head, with one word.”

“What word?”

“‘Lesser’. I want nothing that can be so described. I want the very best. I’m glad you concur on which one this refers to.”

“I’m truly sorry, Rebecca, but Achilles is not to be touched. How would the leader of the Gang of Four be? He is one magnificent specimen of the much sought after black-maned lion>”

“Nope. Achilles it has to be, or the hunt is off.”

Travis tried, but could not maintain contact with her piercing eyes, and let his gaze drift down to the one of the crackling imported logs. “Look, I’ll have to consult my senior partner on this,” he mumbled weakly.

“Well, well, so you’re not man enough to call your own shot?”

“I…”

“Alright, let’s approach this from another angle, an angle I’m sure you can appreciate. Everything has its price. So, tell me what Achilles’ price is.”

“One moment, please.” He stood up stiffly, pulled his satellite phone from his pocket, walked off ten feet, and punched a speed-dial. Moments later, he ambled back, and said, “Mr. Hawthorn said that he would required three times the fee.”

“See? There is no such thing as not-for-sale.”

“And?”

“I will pay you double. Thirty grand. And you can keep the change.”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca, three times $13,500 is $40,500.”

“Thirty grand, and you can have me for the night. Take it or leave it,” she said, without a hint of passion in her voice.

Under the stars, the sounds of the wild African night was polluted somewhat by those of human origin, emitted from Rebecca’s tent to be exact, vocal, but non-verbal. But the great orchestra of nature was nonetheless dominated by the lions. The sound was awe-inspiring and horrific. The lions had taken down a large animal, which Travis said to be a giraffe. And the hyenas were the uninvited and unwanted guests to the feast, which lasted till dawn.

In the mid-morning, from about a mile out, they spotted Achilles resting in the shade of an acacia tree, alone. Travis tested the wind and said that they were at a cross-wind to Achilles. He guided Rebecca down wind, then made a stealthy direct approach. At about a hundred yards, she halted Travis, who had by then unslung his rifle.

“Wait here,” she ordered.

“I can’t do that,” he protested.

“You’re gonna have to.” And with this, she began to advance towards the sleeping lion, bow not drawn, but arrow nocked.

Present day

Travis hurriedly assumed a prone position on a slight rise, and kept Achilles dead centre in his scope. With his other eye, he saw Rebecca approach Achilles in much the same manner as that of a lioness approaching a zebra herd. At forty yard or so, no more, she stopped, stood up erect, drew her bow, took careful aim, and launched the arrow right through Achilles’ chest. The lion gave a surprised grunt, lept to his feet, hesitated a split second, then charged head long at his tormentress, with a hurricane in his mane. Rebecca cradled another tri-bladed arrow, and was midway through drawing her bow, when a barrage of three shots came from Travis’ rifle, which brought Achilles a crumpled heap at her feet. 

She stood staring at him for a long moment, while Travis reached her at a run. When he had come to a screeching halt, she turned to face him, and delivered a resound slap on his cheek.

“See what you’ve done!” she scream at him. “You ruined this hunt for me! I wanted to kill him MYSELF!” 

She didn’t know, nor would she be interested to know, nor would she care if she did, but within days of Achilles’ demise, the Gang of Four invaded the AAH pride, vanquished Hector, evicted Agamemnon, exterminated all 24 cubs to terminate the AAH line, and claimed the seven lionesses for themselves towards propagating their own. 

It is the lion’s way and she knew she was in no position to pass judgement on the morality of any species, including of course her own. She might feel a fleeting pang of regret had she heard about the cubs, but cubs were worthless to trophy hunters anyway. She would see them as accepted bilateral damage in her quest to mount the magnificent head of Achilles towards immortalizing her Big-5 wall.

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE) 
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org 
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
http://www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII 
http://www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
http://www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

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“NO PAIN, NO GAIN”


My computer has been slow as molasses lately. Unable to play HD videos notwithstanding, had I held my breath for the simplest executions to happen, I’d be dead by now.

Windows Task Manager (Ctrl/Alt/Del simultaneously) showed that I had up to 108 processes running, and the CPU usage was an unyielding 100%. I called a computer store and was told I had a virus.

I ran the computer through Avast, AVG and Avira (the top 3 free anti-virus programs), and they did find some undesirables, which they removed. But the computer was as slow as before. They also found a couple that they could not remove. I then ran Malwarebytes (top-rated free anti-malware program), and it found quite a few, and had them removed. Then I ran the SUPER Anti-spyware, and more showed up, and removed. And then, I used RegClean Pro to fix all registry errors. But the computer was slow as before, CPU usage still maxing out at 100%. I called the store again, and they said that it would cost me 150 or more to fix it.

I checked other computers and found that their CPU usage fluctuated between 10-50%, but their number of processes were only between 60-80, compared to my 95-108. Windows Task Manager also showed the specific processes being run. I went through them one by one and closed those I thought were unnecessary. A couple of times, when I removed a process, the computer crashed, and I had to reboot. But by trial and error, I reduced the number down to below 80, and, voila! the CPU usage went down from 100% to 20-50%, and computer regained it’s previous speed. HD videos grace the screen again.

So what is the moral of this story?

1. The computer problem was a pain in the butt, and cost me significant time.

2. The fix-it-myself approach was trial and error, amounting to pain on pain, and time plus time.

3. But I learned a lot about computers through the painful process.

4. The problem was solved – without expenditure.

5. I gained a sense of satisfaction in myself.

But the point I really want to make is this: The computer situation can be a microcosm of the LIFE situation. When something goes wrong with ones life, it could be agonizing, and one might wish that it didn’t happen. But without it happening, one would not gain new knowledge about life, nor experience the satisfaction of success. A painless life is a stagnant life where the advance of the soul is concerned.

And it comes full circle to what we’ve been saying for eons: No pain, no gain.

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
http://www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII
http://www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
http://www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

“A NATION OF HAMBURGER FLIPPERS”


 

“We Have Become a Nation of Hamburger Flippers.” – Dan Alpert.

If you have been reading the news on a daily basis as religiously as I have, you would find yourself totally confused by good-news/bad-news, both referring to the same thing – the US economy, particularly job growth. 

Mainstream media tend to report on ever lowering unemployment rates, from 8.5% last year gradually down to 7.4% yesterday, and you could take comfort in it and close the screens and go shopping. 

On the other hand, “fringe media” would tell you that the new jobs created are low-paying and often part-time, and the unemployment rates are calculated by first eliminating the “non-participants” from the equation, i.e. those who have given up looking for work (last I heard was close to 1 million, and rising), thus making the unemployment rates look lower than they really are.

Further, other related signs, e.g. the severe shortening of unemployment benefit coverage periods in various states, the increasing number of food stamp recipients nation-wide (lowest est. 47 million, latest 100 million), hardly support the rosy illusion.

Most hurtfully, when we think about it, who speaks for the suffering of the long-term unemployed, whose resumes are categorically swept into the waste basket of employers without a glance? None that I’ve come across, even once. They have become regarded as worthless social rejects or not parasites, swept under the economic rug to rot.

Meanwhile up at the top, the Federal Reserve (“the Fed” – US central bank) counts on the illusory “improving employment picture” to determine its globe-affecting policies, particularly regarding Quantitative Easing (QE), i.e. the injection of $85 billion per month of newly printed paper money into Wall Street, artificially boosting the stock market, which continue rising to “confirm” the “economic recovery”. And herein lies the greatest danger.

The fact of the matter is that the $85 billion/mo injection is supposed to haul the nation up from the 2009 Great Recession, not as long term sustenance of a chronically faltering economy. The longer QE continues, the bigger the bubble when it eventually will burst. The longer it continues, the harder Wall Street will crash when QE has to be “tapered” and eventually withdrawn.

Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke must be the most carefully watched person on Earth. Anything he says will be analysed to the letter and will have wide-spread effects not only on the US economy but the global economy. Over the last several months, he merely hinted at that QE would have to be “tapered” later this year, down to zero in mid-2014. Wall Street, so myopic that it cannot and does not care to look more than a month or even a week down the road, reacts to Bernanke’s every word with immediate rising and falling of the stock market. Bernanke himself watches his own every-word to make sure that the financial house-of-cards does not disintegrate on his watch. He knows that QE has to stop to prevent a catastrophic crash, and the longer he waits, the worse the crash would get when it happens. If he suddenly announces today that QE would cease tomorrow, Wall Street would crumble for certain, but not as bad as he waited until next year to announce it. 

Sorry to say, as I said last year, a full scale economic collapse in the US is inevitable, and the longer this is delayed by the continuance of QE, the more catastrophic the collapse will be, including a worse replay of the 2008 housing meltdown, corporate bankruptcies and massive layoffs.

Can there be any good outcome? Sorry, not that I can see. My best advice is to prepare for the worst. The most optimistic thing I can say is that to build a new house, the old one has first to to be demolished.

Read this article [“We Have Become a Nation of Hamburger Flippers”: Dan Alpert Breaks Down the Jobs Report]
http://finance.yahoo.com/blogs/daily-ticker/become-nation-hamburger-flippers-dan-alpert-breaks-down-145831220.html

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE) 
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org 
http://www.HOPE-CARE.org
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
http://www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
http://www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII 
http://www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
http://www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
http://www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
http://www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

[A PLANET’S RANSOM] – A NEW BOOK IN THE MAKING BY ANTHONY MARR


 

[A PLANET’S RANSOM] 
a new book in the making by Anthony Marr 

Is 2013 a good year to write a book? Well, 13 is my chosen number, so in this sense it is auspicious. But 2013 follows 2012, and that may not be all that promising, because by the time the book is ready to hit the shelf, book stores may have become extinct, or worse, literacy, or worst, humanity itself (best as some might deem), which ironically is what the book is meant to help prevent and save. 

But come hell (figuratively) or high water (literally), I’m writing my third book – [A PLANET’S RANSOM] (tentative).

I’ve been writing it for the last 3 months or so, and expect to be doing it for another 3 or more, since I’m up to Chapter 51 of an estimated 100. My average speed is about one chapter every 1-3 days, with writer’s blocks along the way. This explains why I haven’t been quite as active on FB of late. I haven’t announced the writing of this book abiding by my rule to not announce works in progress until at least half-done, which I believe it has. If not, the book will just keep on going. Shannon Wright bears first hand witness to the process. 🙂 

To safeguard the book’s foregone termination, or if banned or burnt, I might seal its original in a time capsule and launch it into the future. At least, then, whoever can still read in 2050 will know in some detail on a personal level what has transpired and is still transpiring in 1990-2020 that has contributed to their demise. Conversely, if there happens to be a Renaissance in 2050, the book hopefully could make a historical contribution and sit in a new museum somewhere.

[A Planet’s Ransom] is a novel, in which a super-powerful psychopath of an oil-tycoon teams up with an ingenious psychopathic trophy-huntress to seek control of the destiny of a nation and the fate of the world, counter-balanced only by a civil/animal-rights attorney and an environmentalist/wildlife-preservationist.

Keeps me awake at night just thinking about it. 😀

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE) 
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org 
www.HOPE-CARE.org
www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII 
www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

1C TEMP-RISE = 2.3M SEA-RISE, X 4-6


A rise of 1C/1.6F in global average temperature will raise the sea level by 2.3m/7.6′. We’re aiming for a global temperature rise of 4C/6.4F minimum this century, or over 9.2m/29.4′ in sea-level rise. If it is +6C/9.6F, the sea level rise would be 13.8m/45.6′.

This is not conjecture. It is a past fact that 18,000 years ago, at the height of the last ice age, the sea level was DOWN some 110m/365′, and the present-day Persian Gulf was the then fully exposed “Persian Valley”, with the extended and combined Tigris/Euphrates River running through it.

(*Anthony Marr has published a “theory” that the Persian Valley was exposed for so long that a natural terrestrial ecosystem, including tribal humans, had developed, thrived and evolved upon it. When the sea rose to reclaim the land some 12,000 years ago, the tribes were driven up the valley into the present-day “Fertile Crescent”; the population compression and cultural amalgamation caused the rise of civilization. But that is another fascinating subject.)

The diagram shows Florida today and a few decades hence. It and Louisiana will be submerged almost in their entirety, as will other low-lying areas worldwide, e.g. Richmond and Delta in Greater Vancouver where I live.

The above two maps show the land to be submerged (in red) at +6m/20′ sea-level-rise. And the following map shows the new coastline after all the land glaciers have melted off.

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE)
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org
www.HOPE-CARE.org
www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII
www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

Alien’s-eye-view of hellhole on Earth – Alberta Tar Sands


Alien’s-eye-view of hellhole on Earth – Alberta Tar Sands

 
Imagine the starship Enterprise going into orbit around a planet “where no one has gone before”, sending down a shuttle for a two-hour observation of the seeping open sore on the otherwise gorgeous face of that blue jewel, and Kirk, Spock et al watching the life-feed of the video uplink as we speak.

The following is better than Star Trek because, instead of watching them watching it on their screen, you can join them by watching it yourself on your own screen:

Sit down in your captain’s chair and watch Anthony Marr’s 45 minute video of his two-hour flight in rough weather over some of the tar sands mines – on this your own planet:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLeYpLBQsnE (engine/wind noise retained)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juNDjv_Gxl8 (engine/wind noise removed)

 

If this video is banned on youtube in your country, please watch it in Vimeo:
https://vimeo.com/69824640 (with or without engine/wind noise)

<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/69824640″>Alien’s-eye-view of hellhole on Earth – Alberta Tar Sands</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/user4408235″>Anthony Marr</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>
Alien’s-eye-view of hellhole on Earth – Alberta Tar Sands from Anthony Marr on Vimeo.

A disclaimer: Anthony Marr is not a professional videographer, does not own state-of-the-art high-end equipment, and it was a stormy day and turbulent flight, so you won’t see any Oscars in the stars for this one. What you will experience is what Anthony Marr himself experienced, and perhaps what Kirk and Spock et al would experience. It is a spiritual experience first and foremost.

Anthony Marr himself feels that the video does not do the tar sands justice for the planet-destroying atrocity that it is; for one thing it covers only two of the six mines. To emphasize a few points for maxing the benefit:

1. It is to be noted that only 20% of tar sands extraction is by open-pit-mining, meaning that only 20% of the damage visible from the air is . 

2. About as much energy, mostly natural gas piped in from as far as Russia, has to be put into the tar sands operations to extract an equal amount of energy in the form of oil, so in the ecological context it makes no sense; economically, it does but only to those who financially benefit from it.

3. Other than the obvious, such as the wholesale “removal” of “overburden” (boreal forests) by the thousands of square kilometers, of special note are the highly toxic “Tailing PONDS” sitting poisonously throughout the landscape by the hundreds, which are essentially man-made toxic-waste dumps in the form of storage LAKES, some so large to be visible to the naked eye from space, and one boasting of having the world’s third largest dam in the world. None of them is lined, so all of them LEAK, either down into the aquifer and/or directly into the over-used Athabasca River which drains into Lake Athabasca farther north. These tailing “ponds” happen to underlie the paths of migratory birds. Their contents are so oily and toxic that no water fowl landing into one can be expected to take off again.

4. Do the oil companies and the oiled governments care? Sure, one company claims to have “reclaimed” 22% of the land devastated by its gigantic Earth-raping machinery, but critics contend that it is in fact only 0.2%. Of course they have their little PR show-pieces. 

5. The entire Athabascan watershed downstream of the mines has been poisoned – not just for now, but for centuries to come – and of course this is none of the oil companies’ concern. The poisoned Lake Athabaska produces deformed fish upon which the local Chipewyan people feed, or used to feed, resulting in sky-high cancer rates. Who knows what evils would befall the animals drinking from the entire watershed, much less the toxic-cocktail directly from the tailings ponds? By the way, though they did suspend the doctor who blew the whistle on the cancer epidemic, they did magnanimously provided the Chipewyan people with a cancer ward.

To learn more about these tailing “ponds”, just google “tar sands tailing ponds”.

If you haven’t yet read the blog on Anthony Marr’s Vancouver-to-tar-sands trip, or viewed the preceding video episodes (#1 through #13), please also check them out: 
homosapienssaveyourearth.blogspot.ca/2012/03/aliens-eye-view-of-hellhole-on-earth.html

So, what do you think Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock et al would do after watching their video feed? Since they have to abide by the interstellar non-interference principle, what can they do? They’d just enter the video into their database under “Lost Cause”. Which means, it is all up to us, folks.

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE) 
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org 
www.HOPE-CARE.org
www.facebook.com/Anthony.Marr.001
www.facebook.com/Global_Anti-Hunting_Coalition
www.facebook.com/Anthony.MarrII 
www.youtube.com/AnthonyMarr
www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
www.DearHomoSapiens.blogspot.com
www.AnthonyMarr13.wordpress.com

THE “QUANTITATIVE ARA”


 

A friend of mine observed: “… (in this session) there was a discussion here about making a difference to the largest number of animals. I responded, ‘But what about the tigers? the mustangs? which species we’ll lose soon, shouldn’t we as a movement go to those first?’ The answer I got was that this viewpoint is ‘conservationist’ and that’s different from animal rights. I did not see myself as a conservationist, only a concerned person…”

I second this person’s emotion. 

As an anti-hunting activist and wildlife preservationist over the years, I’ve caught flack along this vein time and again. One asked me how many tigers I was trying to save; I said 4000 max, since that was the maximum number of tigers left in the wild to save. He then chastised me for not only being misled, but misleading others, to devote a disproportionate amount of time, energy, ingenuity and resources to the tigers, thereby thinning out support for the 10 billion chickens slaughtered every year in the U.S. alone. Elephants likewise, rhinos likewise, dolphins likewise, whales likewise.

Speaking of whales, there was even the “Eat the Whales” campaign led by a high profile group essentially saying that each whale contains enough meat to equal that of so many tens of thousand of chickens, so by sacrificing one whale, so many tens of thousands of lives could be saved. Tongue in cheek perhaps, but this goes to show something about the basic “philosophy” of some in which the term “Species” does not exist except in labelling wildlife-oriented ARAs as “conservationists”, whom they label as “sSpeciesists”.

These “Quantitative ARAs”, as I call them, in fact devalue the worth of the individual life by playing the life-game by the number, which I find ironic if not disingenuous.

Picture of tigress at Bandhavgarh National Park, India, by Anthony Marr 

Anthony Marr, Founder and President
Heal Our Planet Earth (HOPE) 
Global Anti-Hunting Coalition (GAHC)
Anthony-Marr@HOPE-CARE.org 
www.HOPE-CARE.org
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www.HomoSapiensSaveYourEarth.blogspot.com
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