What Do We Want? Legal Pot? When Do We Want It? Now!

I'm busy being a step-mom and grandma this week (which means racing around cooking, cleaning, chasing grandson, and generally having the time of my life), so there's not much time for anything remotely resembling work. BUT: I want to note the publication of a new book: Too High To Fail: Cannabis and the New Green Economic Revolution. It pushes SO many of my buttons. (*1)

As readers of this blog know, I favor of drug legalization, and especially marijuana. (See, for example, this.)

I'm also interested in the character of our "free market" economy in the digital age. (See, for example, this or this.) (Part of my interest stems from a book idea that is rolling around in my brain. Green, new, or otherwise, the nature of 21st century capitalism is much on my mind.)

Last Sunday's New York Times Book Review included  a review of the book. I didn't read it because I plan to read the book and why would I read a review of a book before reading the book?, plus the book's title/content were enough to get me to buy.  (I do so love complex punctuation. One's of life's cheapest, free delights!)

Indeed, I immediately decided to buy it as a way of supporting the author and the idea. (*2) In short: I'm delighted to see this book appear AND from a "mainstream" publisher.

So. Buy this book!

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*1: FULL DISCLOSURE: I smoke pot, which in my case works out to one hit from a joint maybe two, three times a week. I'd probably take a hit every day if I could buy the stuff without the hassle I go through to buy it. But even if I didn't imbibe, I'd still favor legalization, as I have for well over thirty years.

*2: Although as I've noted here MANY times, I support buying books as a way of supporting the world's creators of "content." Of which I am one.

It's My Blog And I'll Write How I Wanna . . .

. . . to be sung to the tune of "It's My Party." A few days ago, I posted a rant in response to the Jonah Lehrer screw-up. As far as rants go, it was par for the course around here, including my use of various, um, various informal words.

One of my Facebook friends told me that her father-in-law read it and questioned my need to use the “vernacular,” as he phrased it. (“Vernacular” being a classy term for words like fuck, hell, and shit.) He said that he didn’t think a “good historian” needed to rely on such language. (*1)

He’s got a point: No one needs to rely on the word “fuck”; or words of more than two syllables when a one-syllable word will do; or on name-calling or on, well, whatever they rely on.

But his comment got me thinking about this blog and my philosophy, such as it is, of blogging. ("Philosophy." Now there's a sophisticated word! Probably too high-blown to be used for such a mundane purpose here.) And it occurred to me that it might be useful, six years into blogging, to explain why this blog takes the form it does.

In my verrrrry first blog post, back in 2006, when (being honest) I was dragged, kicking and screaming into blogging, I explained that I regarded my blog as an “observation post,” from which I planned to comment on the world around me. (*2) (*3)

And for better or for worse, that’s what I’ve done for the past six years. (*4)

So that’s one purpose of this blog: On any given day, I talk about whatever is on my mind, a luxury that writing single-topic books doesn’t otherwise offer. Blogging allows me to flex my brain and my writing muscles and to think out loud, if you will.

But over the past six years, I’ve also arrived, inadvertently and unintentionally, at another conclusion about my blogging philosophy (there's that word again . . .), a conclusion inspired primarily by  comments like the one from my Facebook friend's father-in-law (because he's not the first to question my choice of language):

My blog (and the website in which it’s embedded) are extensions of my “real” home in the 3-D world. When you stop by this website, you’re sitting in my online living room.

Which means: This is MY house and by god, I can do whatever I want here. I can say what I want. Use whatever words I want to use.

Which, sigh, is also against the “rules”: read advice on how-to-blog, and you’ll usually find a whole lot of verbiage about the need to “be professional.”

To which I say: screw that. I’m professional as hell in my professional life: When I’m researching my books and most especially when I’m writing my books, I'm ALL business.

But when I’m here, well . . . this is the other side of my life. Here, I'm more or less off-duty. So what you get is me, at home, unedited.

And if someone doesn’t wanna hang out in my living room because of a) my use of the “vernacular”; b) my political views; or c) because I’ve got my feet up on the coffee table and I’m ranting at the top of my voice --- well, hey! Here’s my advice:

Sit in someone else's living room.

But if you can take me as I am (cue Joni Mitchell!), then please, stick around. Take a seat. I’ll grab you a beer.

Because I’m happy (as hell) that you’re here.

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*1: Perhaps this is a good time to explain my admittedly foul mouth: I am a woman of few vices. I don’t cheat on my spouse or my taxes. I don’t drink to excess. I smoke pot in limited quantities. I don’t smoke cigarettes. I’m a good person. Swearing is my one, my only vice. It dates back to when I was fourteen and looking for some way to “rebel” (because I was such a good kid that I couldn’t imagine doing anything TRULY rebellious). So I started to swear. God, it felt great! Then I spent fifteen years waiting tables, and I’m here to tell you that if there is any other profession more likely to  provoke, inspire, and require the use of four-letter words, I want to know what it is. So there you have it: My History Of Swearing.

*2: Even now, six years later, it STILL cracks me up to think of posting that blog entry. In effect, I was sending words out into the cosmos knowing full well that NO. ONE. was reading them. There was something about it that absolutely tickled my sense of absurdity, and still does. Except now I send these words out to five, count ‘em FIVE, people. Progress, people, progress!

*3:  I did NOT want to blog, which, at the time, I regarded as the ultimate in narcissism, but felt pressured to do so as a way to boost my writing career). (Ask any writer: we’re ALL being pressured to use Facebook and Twitter, to blog, etc. Good thing I LIKE that stuff.) Now, alas, I'm addicted to blogging. Which, whoops! means I DO have a vice. (See *1 above.)

*4: Which means, yes, I’m a Truly Stupid Blogger, because the “rules” of blogging are that bloggers should keep their content focused and “relevant” to whatever their specialty happens to be. Eg, economists should write about economics; beer people should write about beer; I should stick to history. What can I say? No one will EVER accuse me of being smart.

The Lehrer Episode: When the Truth Doesn't Matter, We All Pay the Price

I'm a fan of smart people, especially smart writers. I could list boodles of such creatures --- and one of the great joys of a tool like Twitter is that it allows me to "follow" their work and thinking. Among them has been Jonah Lehrer: one of those absurdly young (he's only 31), hard-working, and therefore unnervingly prolific thinker/writers.

I say "has" because --- boy oh boy has he screwed up. I won't go into the details here (there's plenty online, but this is the place to start, followed by this piece about the start of his "downfall" earlier this summer).

Briefly: in the space of a few weeks, he's been caught recycling his own material and now, worse, flat-out lying in print. I'm sorry for him --- and baffled, too.

But that's not what prompts this post. Fury does.

Because I am furious. Here is yet another case of "facts" turning out to be lies. Another case of a writer making stuff up and passing it off as truth. (There have been so many of these in the past few years that if I linked to even half them, this post would be saturated in bright blue.)

Why do I care? Because I write non-fiction. Because I'm a historian and history is based on fact, not fiction. (*1) Let me repeat that: Historians start with FACTS. We don't get the pleasure of making stuff up. Our reputations, and the public's regard for our discipline, rest on our honesty.

So when people like Lehrer fuck with the facts, it makes EVERY non-fiction writer, historians and otherwise, look bad.

God knows the practice of history is already suffering thanks to the fictional history that's become so popular these days. (When a writer is praised for making "history" seem like a novel, chances are it's because that writer is taking liberties with the facts, typically by making up dialogue or ascribing knowledge of inner thoughts and motivation when he/she has no knowledge of them.) (And if no one minds, I won't mention names. I'm not interested in engaging in a public pissing contest.)

The more often Americans hear about fuckups like Lehrer (and what a shame that, in my mind, that's what he's become), the more likely they are to mistrust all writers of non-fiction. And the more likely they are to disregard substantive history in favor of the fictional stuff.

I can't say I blame them. After all, we know that politicians, to name the obvious example, lie on a regular basis as a way of promoting their cause. So why not journalists, public intellectuals, and historians?

It's no wonder that we Americans "enjoy" a reputation as "anti-intellectual." Why  bother with hard thinking and fact when any ol' made up shit will do?

Yes, I am more than a little pissed off.

UPDATE:  Michael Sacasas just remarked, via Twitter, that the Lehrer episode

could be the subject of a Lehrer-style book of neuro-moral psychology.

Indeed. As I said above, there have been SO many of these episodes that I wonder what's really going on. Surely more than a cavalier disregard for fact. Is this nothing more than the ease with which information is transmitted (and verifiable)? Or is there some weird, contemporary neuroses at work (perhaps connected to the ease with which we can communicate)? Who knows?

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*1: Yes, yes, yes. I KNOW that a work of history reflects the historian's personal biases and interests. That no history can ever be objectively "true" because truth, to a certain extent, is in the eyes of the beholder. The facts that I amass and analyze are ones that I've chosen. And the analysis I arrive at is based on the way I choose to interpret those facts. But the operative word here is FACT. Historians start with FACTS.

Drought, Weather Cycles, and the Historian's View

Today's Washington Post has a short, but juice-laden piece on this summer's weather and its connection (or not) to "climate change" and long-term weather cycles. It's definitely worth reading, if only because so many commentators have jumped to the easy conclusion that this summer's weather is the result of global climate change. (*1) The WaPo piece puts that conclusion-jumping into perspective. I mentioned my view on that in my previous post, but the historian in me (you know: the person who takes the Long View of the Big Picture) would like to add this:

Sure, this summer's weather has consists of broken records: new high temperatures; new streak of days without rain, and so forth.

But it's worth noting the obvious: records can be, and are, broken, right? Back in the 1930s, for example, people marveled at the abysmal stretch of heat/drought/whatever, as records were broken right and left, and they wondered about its causes.

So, too, back in, say, the 17th century: When people experienced "exceptional" weather --- lack of rain; too much rain, etc. --- they looked for causes. At that time, they typically blamed human sin and error for their misery: god was punishing them. In the 21st century, we simply have a different explanation for "unusual weather." (Which, by the way, usually means the bad stuff. No one ever bitches when, as has been the case for the past three, four years, we have spectacular weather.)

Nor does it follow that new records/broken records are necessarily indicative of anything other than "Oh, hey, we're having an unusually brutal summer of a sort not seen since the 1930s" (or whenever).

Is climate change a factor in this summer's weather? Perhaps. Perhaps even probably. But we would do well to recognize that climate and weather operate in long-term cycles.

Indeed, at a time when everyone chatters about "nature" and the "environment," surely one way to honor both is by respecting their complexity, in this case by recognizing that many of nature's patterns are cyclical and that those cycles typically extend for periods that extend well beyond one persons lifetime. This year's awful weather may be more than just this year's awful weather or evidence of "climate change." It could be part of a long-term cyclical shift.

Embracing a deeper understanding of nature is as important as the knee-jerk conclusion that new weather records equal "climate change." Jump to a conclusion, and you may end up missing the bigger, more important story.

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*1: Again: I'm not a climate-denier, or whatever term is being used these days. I've no doubt the scientists are on to something. But I'm also a long-time weather watcher with an enormous respect for nature and its forces, which are much bigger than me.

Drought, Heat, and The Price of Meat

In case you've not heard, the U. S. is having a dry (and, yeah, HOT) summer. Drought is one of the biggies when it comes to food prices. Grains are one obvious reason: lack of rain will harm wheat crops, for example, and so wheat will be in short supply, and the price of Wheaties will go up. Drought also affects meat prices. Why? Because cattle and hog producers rely on grasses and grain to feed their stock. (And please: let's not digress into yet another discussion about the wisdom of feedlots, okay?)

In the very short term, beef prices will drop. But over the long haul those prices will go up, up, up. To understand why, it helps to know something about livestock production.

Out in the far west (think Utah, Colorado, Wyoming), ranchers graze cattle on grasses. Those grasses are sturdy (they've evolved for an arid climate), but even they can suffer in severe drought.

When the grasses are in short supply, ranchers cull their herds: They'll sell off steers AND  cows that would otherwise produce more cattle. Why? Because they can't get enough feed for them.

BUT: even if there was plenty of rain in, say, Wyoming, those ranchers would start selling off their herds anyway. Why? Because they know they won't find buyers for them. Here's why.

Those ranchers sell their grass-fed cattle to farmers who "finish" them for market by feeding them a mixture of non-grass foods, especially corn and soybeans.  But if drought in, say, Iowa or Missouri, damages fields of corn and soybeans, the prices of those crops will soar (which is what's happening now).

So Iowa farmers who would ordinarily stock up on corn and soybeans as feed won't be buying it. It'll cost too much. And because they can't afford those feedstuffs, they also won't buy cattle from western ranchers.

Both groups of livestock producers know this. So what they'll do now is sell off their cattle as fast as they can. In the short term, the market will be glutted with cattle. Packers will have their pick of cattle,which means low prices for them and for consumers. In the SHORT TERM.

But over the next six or so years, beef prices will move up. Why? Because once ranchers/farmers cull their herds, the only way to rebuild those herds is with time -- it takes about seven years to rebuild a herd. Ain't no way to speed up the process of raising new cows who can then give birth to more cattle.

Pork prices will go up, too, because hogs eat corn. No corn equals high prices for feed equals not many hogs. But hogs don't take as long to reproduce, so the cycle for pork prices doesn't take as long to stabilize (plus hogs can and do have litters more than once a year).

So in the short run, expect bargain prices for beef, followed by higher prices over the long haul, and higher prices for damn near everything else that goes in the stomach (including things like beer, wine, and whiskey, all of which are agricultural products that are also affected by drought).

So, assuming you follow all of this, reports like this excellent piece from the New York Times should make more sense to you non-farmers. (I'm not a farmer; I only know this stuff because I just finished writing a book about meat). UPDATE: Here's another long NYT piece about the extent of the drought and its impact on foodstuffs.

And no, I have no opinion on the relationship between global warming and the Awful Summer of 2012. Not that I don't think global warming is "real." Rather it's that having lived in Iowa for nearly sixty years, I know this:

Weather is cyclical. About every seven years, we have a summer that's hotter than bejesus, and about every 15 or 20 years, we get excessive heat and drought at the same time. (Last time was in 1988, which I remember because we had just moved to a new house and it had central air. I'd never had air conditioning, and I remember being SO THANKFUL that we could shut the windows against all the dust that was blowing all day every day.)

For the past three years, we've had glorious summers, so I knew that we were due for a non-glorious summer. And -- ta dah! Here it is, in all its non-glory. I'm still glad to have air conditioning!

Bah. And Humbug. Or, Yet Another Hiatus Post

Bah. Humbug. Ugh. Etc. Okay, so as if developing a new book idea, laying groundwork for the meat book, developing idea for a Kindle short weren't enough --- a catastrophic computer crash (well, okay, that's how it felt to ME) got added to the mix.

Not that I'm complaining: I've used a PC since 1984, and owned one since 1986, and this is the first time it's happened to me. Weirdly, there was something kind of liberating about it: I lost hundreds of stored emails that I thought were "important" --- and hey, the planet didn't stop spinning when they vanished into the ether. Ditto iTunes (all those cds I hand-loaded: Poof! Gone!)

Plus, I had plenty of warning in the form of three blue screens in the past four months. So. Whaddya gonna do?

Finally make the leap to a Mac, that's what. Which I did two days ago and my hands are completely ---and I mean COMPLETELY --- confused by the Mac keyboard. I still haven't figured out how to cut/paste. (But, yes, I will.)

Added to which is the Arrival of the Manuscript: my editor sent the edited manuscript yesterday. (*1)

And the manuscript gets priority over everything else.

Translation: all those blog entries I've been working on (several of them, all long, all complex) are going to have to wait. So will the research for the new book idea and the Kindle short. Yes, of course, when my brain is fried from revising, I'll turn to those other projects, but for now, they're all back burners.

And so it goes in the life of this writer-who-loves-blogging. Gotta put it aside. Again. Which is frustrating because there's a LOT going on out there I'd like to be commenting on. But apparently one of the many treats of getting older is that the ol' brain can't be pushed in as many different directions as it could when I was younger.

Anyway: off again. But for those who are interested, I wrote this entire entry using a Mac keyboard and my fingers didn't get confused once. Progress!!!

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*1: For every person out there who thinks Old Publishing is both useless and dead: I'm here to tell you that a superb editor is any writer's best friend and I am incredibly fortunate to have one on my side. The meat book, like the plumbing book, the Key West book, and the beer book, will be immeasurably improved by the eyes, mind, and hands of an editor.