Peak Oil, inc, of Nebraska
Um. You know what's, um, wrong with, um, you know, podcasting? Lack of professionalism. Broadcasters may only be the lackey-mouthpieces of the ruling elite, but they're trained to, um, like, construct, um, you know, sentences.
If this is the state of the average Guardian 'podcast' then they really need to stick to the duck-squeezing and hand-wringing.
Anyway. Rob Newman's History of Oil. Wow. It didn't tell me anything surprising, since I'm already an anarchist sympathiser who'd read up on the move to trading oil in Euros. (Hell, I live in Europe. If America goes tits-up, we can throw a fence round the place to keep the inmates from escaping and film reality-TV from armoured cars driven by blue-helmeted Canadians.)
Mind, that Bliar chappie should really be chased from office by a howling mob waving torches and pitchforks, if only for form's sake.
It comes only subjective minutes after reading this fine thing about the utter futility of the current 'space program'. I have to admit that I harboured some ill-will towards Mr. Cegłowski for coming up with LOAF (Oh, my aching sides), but it's impossible to dislike someone that talented. Believe me, I've tried.
I think we were sold this entire hand-wave of a future by the hard SF mob. It seemed to go:
a) Put men on the moon.
b) Some orbital things.
c) Profit!
And somewhere in the middle of that all the problems with gummint-sponsored projects (massive cost overruns, management [in the pejorative sense. As if there were any other], mission creep, brownian goalposts, etc) or private sector ditto (much the same, but with a corporate re-branding) would vanish in a flash of cheery boilersuited proles singing company songs.
What a pile of bollocks.
If this is the state of the average Guardian 'podcast' then they really need to stick to the duck-squeezing and hand-wringing.
Anyway. Rob Newman's History of Oil. Wow. It didn't tell me anything surprising, since I'm already an anarchist sympathiser who'd read up on the move to trading oil in Euros. (Hell, I live in Europe. If America goes tits-up, we can throw a fence round the place to keep the inmates from escaping and film reality-TV from armoured cars driven by blue-helmeted Canadians.)
Mind, that Bliar chappie should really be chased from office by a howling mob waving torches and pitchforks, if only for form's sake.
It comes only subjective minutes after reading this fine thing about the utter futility of the current 'space program'. I have to admit that I harboured some ill-will towards Mr. Cegłowski for coming up with LOAF (Oh, my aching sides), but it's impossible to dislike someone that talented. Believe me, I've tried.
I think we were sold this entire hand-wave of a future by the hard SF mob. It seemed to go:
a) Put men on the moon.
b) Some orbital things.
c) Profit!
And somewhere in the middle of that all the problems with gummint-sponsored projects (massive cost overruns, management [in the pejorative sense. As if there were any other], mission creep, brownian goalposts, etc) or private sector ditto (much the same, but with a corporate re-branding) would vanish in a flash of cheery boilersuited proles singing company songs.
What a pile of bollocks.