HELL HATH NO FURY
Now neighbors, about a year ago in issue #243 of THUNDERBEAR, we followed the picaresque clash of Long time seasonal park ranger Robert "Action" Jackson with the Yellowstone Park Bureaucracy.
It is now time for an update.
To refresh your memory, Ranger Jackson had a rather active interpretation of the CFR's regarding park protection and poaching. That is, he really didn't regard them as "suggestions", but rather regulations to be enforced as the law of the land.
Jackson's domain is the remote Throrofare District, the southern boundary of which fronts on national forest land which is some of the finest elk hunting country in the United States.
Guided elk hunting is big business in Wyoming, and as you may have noticed, Big businessmen are in power in Washington. An outfitter can gross up to $400,000 for the eight week season, if he "pushes the hunt". That is, uses salt to lure elk out of the park, guaranteeing a quick and easy kill for a speedy client turn around.
This was a sordid enough lack of sportsmanship, but the gut piles and wasteful butchering technique known as "quick quartering" attracted Yellowstone Grizzly bears, a rare and endangered species, who were sometimes killed by hunters due to real or imagined fear for their safety.
Jackson pointed this out to his supervisors, but it was a "sensitive" issue, meaning that the outfitters had enough political clout with Wyoming's right wing congressional delegation that it frightened the politically timid bureaucracy of Yellowstone Park. Jackson talked to reporters. Things escalated. A gag order was issued (sorry guys, unconstitutional)
A poor performance report was issued. A reporter was told that Jackson may be "mentally ill (bureaucrats practicing psychiatry without a license, no can do, folks!)
In short, the Park Service responded in typical fashion with all phasers set on Maximum Stupidity.
PEER (Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility), An employee's rights group explained for the umpteenth time that no matter how badly the NPS is frightened by the rich and well connected, the NPS had no right to retaliate against an employee doing his duty.
After PEER patiently explained the concept of the First Amendment to the Yellowstone administration, the gag order was rescinded, the poor performance report was withdrawn and Jackson was advised that he would be rehired for the 2002 season.
Huzzah! Justice and common sense triumphs! Well, not quite.
You see, Hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat foiled. There must be SOME way to get rid of Jackson! Think, man! Think!
And so there was.
Late in the season of 2002, Jackson was told that his services would not be needed for the hunting season and that he would be terminated after Labor Day.
Now Jackson, a garrulous chap, enjoyed talking to the summer hikers as much as anyone, checking wilderness permits, looking for strayed taxpayers and illegal campfires and so on, but what he was REALLY good at was catching poachers and uncovering outfitter shenanigans on the South boundary during the hunting season.
The official reason Jackson's services would no longer be required was that the NPS was upgrading its law enforcement; professional GS-9 full time permanent law enforcement specialists would be brought in to patrol the back country of Yellowstone.
No one can fault the upgrading of law enforcement. In the long run, it is probably best that permanent, full time law enforcement rangers handle hot spots such as the Throrfare district.
But in the short run, is it not possible that a 30 season veteran like Jackson might know something that a bright young man or woman fresh out of FLETC might not know? Jackson might be able to advise our GS-9 that a certain smiley-faced, good ol' boy outfitter who was always ready with a cup of coffee or a funny story, was also quite capable of poisoning NPS pack stock if crossed. There are some things they don't teach you in FLETC.
So, in the short term, would it not be best to keep Jackson on a season or two as a "suggester", not even an advisor, just an old hand who could point out a few things that might be overlooked?
Yellowstone management apparently did not think so.
Jackson, for his part, did what you or I would do. He wrote a letter to his Senator and wondered "How come?"
Jackson has sort of lucked out in his choice of a home state as his senator is the honorable Charles Grassley (R-IA).
Now, neighbors, Senator Grassley sort of defines the word "Conservative" (at least in the political sense).
I checked out Senator Grassley's environmental scorecard from the League of Conservation Voters, which keeps track of such things.
Senator Grassley's score was "4" (Out of a possible 100).
At first I thought there was a misprint; that a typist down at The League of Conservation Voters had dropped a digit. Senator Grassley's score must be 64 or 74 or something like that. So, like a good reporter, I called up the League to check it out.
Nope! No error! Senator Grassley's score was 4.
How could anyone score 4? You would have to push Smokey Bear down the stairs once a month to achieve such a low score! Iowa's other senator, Tom Harkin (D-IA) scored 84 on the League's score card.
To be fair, environmental issues are not Senator Grassley's ear of corn. (Although he scored only 4 in Environmentals, he was given 100 out of a possible 100 by the US Chamber of Commerce, a businessman's outfit. Basically, Grassley is a law & order type of guy. He heads the Senate sub committee on Crime and Drugs.
This is bad joss on the part of the NPS! It is best not to tick off a Senator who has no particular liking for the National Park Service and who is VERY interested in law enforcement.
Anyways, Senator Grassley sent a letter to the Director of the National Park Service, Fran Mainella.
We obtained a copy of Director Mainella's reply to Senator Grassley's inquiry:
The Honorable Charles E. Grassley
Ranking Member
Subcommittee on Crime and Drugs
Commission on the Judiciary
United States Senate
Washington, DC 20510-6275Dear Senator Grassley:
Thank you for your letter regarding Mr. Robert Jackson. I appreciate your concern and want to assure you that the National Park Service is deeply committed to the fair treatment of all its employees.
In Yellowstone, as in many other parks, most seasonal rangers work only part of the year when heavy visitation demands extra personnel. This fall in the Lake sub-district where Mr. Jackson serves, the only law enforcement rangers who are monitoring the backcountry are permanent, GS-9 , career law enforcement officers, not seasonal employees.
The only seasonal law enforcement officers on duty in the Lake Sub-district in October 2002 are officers assigned to front country duties and officers with paramedic experience and skills with the exception of one season officer who will be receiving one week of backcountry training.
I want to assure you, personally, that Mr. Jackson's treatment is consistent with that received by other seasonal rangers. Thank you for your interest in Mr. Jackson. Please contact me if you have any further questions.
Sincerely,
Fran Mainella
will instantly recognize this letter as a variant of Form Letter 13 B that you sent out to taxpayers who were complaining about lack of toilet paper in the restrooms or some such nonsense.
The traditional NPS form letter thanks the taxpayer for his interest, condescendingly tells him he doesn't quite grasp the problem, but tells him that you have the situation well in hand and not to fret.
In short, Fran told Senator Grassley to go piss up a rope.
Understandably, Senator Grassley was not entirely satisfied with Director Mainella's response.
So, possibly recalling the old saying "Talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey", Senator Grassley decided to go right to the top and talk to Fran Mainella's boss, Gale Norton.
Here is Senator Grassley's letter
October 15,2002
The Honorable Gale A. Norton
Secretary of the Interior
1849 C St NW
Washington, DC 20240Dear Secretary Norton,
I am writing to express my disappointment in the National Park Service for its decision not to reinstate Ranger Robert Jackson in patrol duties in Yellowstone National Park during the hunting season.
Mr. Jackson worked as a ranger at Yellowstone National Park for 30 years, amassing an impressive reputation and record as an aggressive enforcer of the law with the special knowledge and skills to investigate and deter poaching and other illegal practices.
This year, it is my understanding that Mr. Jackson's supervisors chose not to select him to work through the end of the hunting season, a period he has worked for several years.
As the ranking member of the Judiciary Committee's Crime and Drugs Subcommittee, I am concerned about this decision for several reasons.
First, this appears to be retaliatory action against Mr. Jackson for his previous disclosures and last year's legal settlement, which was to Mr. Jackson's advantage.
The decision is also indicative of the National Park Service's anti -law enforcement culture, which eschews controversy to the point of neglecting security and enforcement.
Last, the National Park Service has shown itself unwilling or unable to justify the decision.
In the last several years, Mr. Jackson has worked in the back-country area of Yellowstone, or the "Throfare" during hunting season and raised awareness about the use of "salts" to attract elk. This practice is not only unethical-and perhaps illegal-but also dangerous, as the dead elk attracted Grizzly Bears, an endangered species. The bears then became more dependent on humans for food which endangers persons in the park and leads to more bears being shot. Mr. Jackson's reports on Grizzly Bear mortality are well-known.
Retaliatory Action
Mr. Jackson's enforcement efforts against poaching have brought negative publicity to Yellowstone, the Park Service and even the Interior Department as a whole. Last year, his supervisors issued a gag order against him, told him he would not be rehired and took other retaliatory action.
Mr. Jackson through an attorney filed a complaint with the Office of Special Counsel. Fortunately, the National Park Service officials in Washington intervened and settled the case. As part of the settlement, Mr. Jackson' record was expunged of the negative personnel information planted against him, the gag order was lifted and he was promised a position as a ranger this year.
This settlement was viewed by some as an admission by the National Park Service that local officials had gone too far and taken unlawful retaliatory action against Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson and his attorney reported to my staff that at least one local supervisor has exhibited animosity toward Mr. Jackson since the settlement was announced.
On September 30, I wrote to National Park Service Director Fran Mainella requesting that she consider ordering Mr. Jackson reinstated or, if he is not to be reinstated, that she answer several questions about the decision. I asked that the answers be provided by Friday, October 4. A reply did not arrive until October 7 and it was woefully incomplete.
I can conclude from this only that National Park Service officials are unwilling to provide an explanation for their decisions, or they are unable, meaning it was very likely an arbitrary action.
Cultural Bias Against Security and Enforcement.
Getting rid of Mr. Jackson serves the interests of park supervisory officials who wish to avoid high-profile conflicts with poachers and negative media attention. Mr. Jackson has proved himself to have unique skills and knowledge of the back country area where poaching is known to take place. I understand that he has developed a reputation among poachers, so that when they know he is on duty, they stay away.
As you know, I have followed with interest your laudable efforts to reform the Interior Department's law enforcement functions. I know this is not an easy task, as an array of entrenched bureaucrats oppose the new emphasis on security, despite the September 11, 2001 attacks and the continuing terrorist risk facing this country.
While Mr. Jackson was not guarding a critical infrastructure, he was carrying out an aggressive law enforcement function against illegal poachers who put both endangered species and other humans at risk. Such efforts should be applauded and enhanced, not diminished and sabotaged.
The National Park Service all but admits that law enforcement is not a priority in its response to me. Director Mainella wrote that seasonal rangers are only assigned to the "front country duties", where there is no hunting, this year, with one exception of a seasonal ranger receiving one week of back country training.
In addition, Director Mainella wrote that "Permanent GS-9 career law enforcement officers, not seasonal employees" will patrol the back-country this fall. However, she did not provide the number of rangers and whether it is sufficient to enforce the law.
No justification
I asked four basic questions (see attachment ) of Director Mainella in an attempt to have National Park Service officials account for their actions regarding Mr. Jackson was based on objective standards.
The response from the National Park Service did not address those questions directly, except to claim that Mr. Jackson was treated the same as other seasonal rangers.
At this point in the season, it may be too late to reinstate Mr. Jackson, who has already left Yellowstone for his home. However, I would appreciate a pledge from you that Mr. Jackson next year will be able to continue his duties throughout the hunting season without retaliation or interference.
Also, I ask that you ensure the National Park Service completely answer the questions I posed in my September 30th letter. Also, Director Mainella's response raises new questions. I ask that you answer these or have the National Park Service answer them.
For example, she writes that this fall, only permanent career law enforcement officers, and not seasonal employees, are patrolling the back-country where poaching is known to occur. It is my understanding that this is a new practice. In your reply, please answer whether this is a change in policy or is a different practice from previous years. If it is different as I suspect, please state why the change was made for this fall. Also, please provide the number of permanent career law enforcement officers/rangers patrolling the back-country this fall.
Also, please state the reason why seasonal rangers were only assigned to front country duties (with the one minor exception) and not to back-country duties. Was this due to a funding problem? Was this based on a new policy?
I would appreciate a response to all of these questions by Monday, November 18, 2002.
Thank you for your cooperation in my on going oversight efforts and in this regard if you or your staff have any questions, feel free to contact John Drake of my staff at (202) 224-5315.
Sincerely
Chuck Grassley
Ranking Member
Subcommite on Crime and Drugs
CC Fran Mainella
Robert Jackson
Now neighbors, Mrs Grassley's little boy Chuck didn't just climb down off the corn picker last Tuesday. He has a pretty good idea of how the bureaucratic mind works. In short, he knows all our tricks and will not suffer them gladly. In addition to being blown off by Ms Mainella on the due date of his requested reply, he was amazed by Fran's stout refusal to answer any of his questions in a straight forward manner, and Chuck is beginning to suspect that the long arm of coincidence was pulled out of its socket by the sudden replacement of Jackson by permanent law enforcement. Possible retaliation? Saints Preserve us! No!
However, it is possible that Senator Grassley might suspect that some of the Good Ol' Rangers got together at the back table of a bar in Gardiner, Montana, popped a few cans of Coors, while one or more of them growled "No damn seasonal is going to make a fool out of me" and they all crushed their Coors cans in agreement.
Senator Grassley injected a possible bit of irony in his notation of Ms Mainella's assertion that "Jackson was treated the same as other seasonal rangers" (Is it that bad for ALL seasonals?)
A lot has happened since October. The Democrats were badly defeated in the November elections and Senator Grassley is even MORE powerful now that the Republicans have regained control of the Senate and the Senator now holds the gavel. Therefore, he is able to throw down two gauntlets to Secretary Norton with considerable hope of success.
The first being a request for a pledge on the part of Norton to rehire Jackson for the 2003 hunting season (If Norton can wriggle out of this hammerlock she is a better bureaucrat than I!) The second gauntlet is to answer all of Senator Grassley's questions in a straightforward and truthful manner by November 18.
Since self-preservation is the number one bureaucratic tenet, I suspect that the word has frantically gone out that no matter how much fun and satisfaction there was in "getting even" with the troublesome ranger Jackson, the game is no longer worth the candle.
Not only would the NPS face an administration that is hostile to its mission, in the Jackson case they would be standing virtually alone, with the possibility of the Sierra Club, The Wilderness Society. The Fraternal Order of Police, The Yellowstone Coalition and even the American Civil Liberties Union lining up on the side of Jackson and Grassley.
Like they say, the game is not worth the candle.
TRENT LOTT AND CHICKEN RIGHTS
Now neighbors, the former Senate majority leader, Trent Lott (R-MS) did not much cotton to certain liberal civil rights groups.
I refer of course to the Senator's long standing feud with the Humane Society of America.
You see, Senator Lott is in favor of cock fighting, The Humane Society is not.
For those of you who are not from Louisiana, New Mexico, or Oklahoma, the three states where cock fighting is legal, this is the way the sport goes:
Two guys, (usually not liberal university professors), each own a male chicken, that is, a rooster. Each guy believes his rooster is the toughest bird around; the cock of the walk, so to speak.
Naturally, there is only one way to find out.
Each guy ties razor sharp steel knives about one and a half inches long, called "gaffs" over the natural spurs on his rooster's legs. The chickens are then placed in a small, circular, sand floored arena and nature takes its course. There is usually only one survivor. It is rare in life that one gets such a definite outcome on a difference of opinion.
This ritual attracts a crowd of interested spectators. Naturally, as in any difference of opinion on a sporting matter, bets are made on the outcome, money changes hands. In fact, quite a bit of money. It is estimated that cock fighting in the United States is a $600 million dollar a year business. This is more than half the entire yearly budget of the National Park Service.
Now, $600 million dollars is not chicken feed (Forgive me, neighbors, but you knew that one had to be coming, sooner or later!)
Obviously not all of the betting happens in New Mexico, Louisiana, or Oklahoma. Quite a bit of it must occur in other states.
Now there is no law against a lonely southern guy traveling up to New York City with his pet rooster to keep him company. (It is entirely possible that, in addition to companionship, he cannot afford an alarm clock.)
Indeed, there is no law against a chicken fancier driving a semi-truck up to New York with a thousand chickens on board, all of whom happen to be roosters.
However, the Humane Society of the United States believes the interstate shipment of male chickens might just be an attempt to subvert the anti-animal cruelty laws of the other 47 states that do not allow cockfighting. Therefore, the HSUS has sponsored legislation that would prevent the interstate shipment of roosters for the purpose of cock fighting.
Enter the American Animal Husbandry Coalition (AAHC)
AAHC is a chicken rights organization (Chicken Rights is sort of like States Rights, and just about as ulterior) Anyways, the AAHC supports the right of chickens, more specifically, roosters to "do what comes naturally" that is fight other roosters.
Why is the AAHC so interested in chicken rights? Well, remember that 600 million dollars.
The AAHC approached Senator Lott through their lobbyist. Perhaps Senator Lott could see fit to do something about that nasty anti-cockfighting bill that the Humane Society was sponsoring?
On the other hand, you will not find a senator willing to vote against an anti cock fighting bill unless most of his/her constituency are heavily tattooed and have cars jacked up in their front yard, no matter how much money the AAHC contributed to his/her campaign.
But what if the bill never even comes up for a vote? You can do that if you are the Senate Majority leader. You can see that a bill dies in committee or is tabled. This is what happened to the bill closing the loophole in the interstate transport of fighting cocks and Senator Lott was Senate Majority Leader.
Now there are those who say that it doesn't make any difference which Republican is Senate Majority Leader.
Oh yes it does!
The new Senate Majority Leader, the Honorable William Frist (R-TN) is a heart surgeon, and probably a bit higher up on the intellectual and social totem pole than good ol' Trent. It is probable that he will look with more favor on the Humane Society's anti-cockfighting bill when Senator Allard (R-CO) reintroduces it in the next Congressional session.
And so, rum and eggnog from my complementary Humane Society cup, I can only agree with that old World War II slogan:
"Loose lips sink ships!" (Fortunately, in Trent's case.)
THE KINGDOM OF QUORN
Have you ever had the feeling that you were in a television commercial? That is, you are standing in the aisle of a store at a loss over which product to buy, when, just like in the television commercials, a complete stranger comes up to you and starts telling you about a product. He/she is well dressed, middle class and apparently sane, so you start to listen.
Happened to me the other day. I was in our local health food store, standing in front of the meat substitute display, trying to decide what kind of fake chicken or fraudulent frankfurters to buy. I can't have (or at least shouldn't have) real meat due to a heart problem. However, I come from the Midwest where a balanced diet is considered to be bacon in the morning, steak in the evening, with ham and cheese acting as the fulcrum at noon.
So, just as President Bush substitutes non-alcoholic beer for the real thing, I try to substitute vegetable fake meat for the real thing.
Now neighbors, I don't know about you, but finding the similarity between extruded soybean fiber and real meat demands that leap of faith that most religions require. I have yet to entirely make the jump. Some soybean products come fairly close. I must admit that Bocaburgers with their fake barbecue grill marks come close in both taste and most importantly texture.
You see, the problem with most soy products is they are not chewy enough. They have mastered the taste, but they are soggy to teeth and tongue. If you ever encountered real meat that soft you would immediately sue the restaurant and pray that you weren't granted some virulent form of listeria.
However, the fake meat people have been improving and I was inventorying the display case for new products. I picked up a perky yellow box labeled "Quorn".
It was then that I entered the apparent television commercial.
The lady behind me said "Buy it! You must buy it! It's wonderful! It saved my husband's life! He had a quadruple bypass!
Like I say, the lady was well dressed and did not look dangerous, (though she did have that exultant look of a recent convert to the One True Faith.) So I listened to her.
She said that her husband had been a hopeless meat addict. Even after a quadruple by pass, he kept shoveling in animal protein like the stokers on the Titanic shoveling coal to keep the pumps going.
No amount of preaching on the part of his cardiologist did any good. No foreboding reference of cholesterol charts made any impression. Begging on the part of the wife lead only to unkept promises. Appeals to think of the children and future graduations and weddings at which he would be notably absent, were also ineffective.
Attempts to substitute soy fake meat met with the same derision a heroin addict has for opiate substitutes. It looked like her husband was doomed.
Then she discovered Quorn.
Quorn is made from "mushrooms" (more about that later) and is unusually high in protein and fiber, has no chloresterol, and best of all, tastes and "mouth feels" remarkably like whatever meat it is flavored to represent.
She tried Quorn cutlets on her husband without forewarning. He complemented her on the excellent grade of chicken. She tried Quorn sloppy joes, he wanted seconds and thirds.
His cholesterol count and weight dropped. He gave every indication of living to see weddings and grandchildren.
The lady was ecstatic. (At this moment, I expected a TV pitchman to step up to the plate and start telling everyone who didn't want to die soon to eat Quorn.
I could hardly disappoint the lady so I bought a couple of boxes.
They were great! We fed them to company. Better than chicken.
The only problem is that Quorn really isn't made from mushrooms.
They are made from the fungus "fusarium venenatum" which really isn't a mushroom. The problem is that, with the exception of mushrooms, most Americans have problems with fungus, associating it with dry rot, athletes foot, and mold.
Naturally, the folks that manufacture Quorn do not want dry rot or molds as their product image, so they chose to say that it was manufactured from, umm, "mushrooms".
Now this is stretching it a bit. Calling Quorn a "mushroom" would be a bit like George Bush nominating an orangutan as Secretary of the Interior and quelling criticism by noting that Orangutans and humans are in the same Order (primates) which is close enough for government work and so what's the fuss?
Still, the Quorn people can be forgiven for wanting to put the best face on their new product.
And it is indeed an amazing new product; one that may rival gene splicing in the production of food.
The fungus "fusarium venenatum" was discovered in a field in Buckinghamshire, England in 1967, by a firm that was looking specifically for a fungus that would produce high grade protein to serve as a meat substitute. They certainly came to the right fungus.
Quorn, as the product came to be called (Why, I don't know!) was rigorously tested by the British government and allowed on the market where in ten years, it surpassed soy beans as a meat substitute in the European market.
The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has recently allowed Quorn to be sold in the U.S.
Now, neighbors, Quorn may not only be just the ticket for overweight American meat addicts, it might also be a quantum breakthrough for the environment and ethics.
The Environment and Ethics?
Well yes! You see Quorn allows us humans to obtain animal grade protein way down on the food chain. In fact WAY down on the food chain!
This means in our quest for protein that we can bypass our "horizontal brothers" (as John Muir used to call our feathered and four footed neighbors.
This means that we will be able in a large part, to leave Nature the hell alone! This means that cattle, lambs, chickens, pigs etc could exist as interesting fellow creatures rather than as something for us to eat.
This means that less rain forest has to be cleared for cattle grazing, a notably inefficient way of producing high grade protein. The fungus based protein can be formed into any kind of "meat" that we want.
This means that the Japanese can have all the "whale" burgers and all the "whale" steaks they want without stooping to the hypocritical "research" whaling that they do now. This means that millions of Hindus will be able to eat "Big Macs" without a twinge of conscience (thus saving McDonalds from bankruptcy!)
This means we will be able to produce a vat full of veal or porterhouse steaks without the stuff we don't want, like big brown eyes, or plaintive moos or thousands of tons of manure.
This means a greater access to high grade protein for the poorer peoples of the world. Access to animal protein was (and is) a sign of comparative wealth. Most of the world's "vegetarians" are in that state due to necessity not choice. There were, for example, no vegetarian American Indian tribes.
This means that the marginal grazing of cattle and sheep on the public lands of the US will have even less economic justification than it does today. This means that US Forest and Bureau of Land Management land could be cattle free in our life times.
This means that livestock and poultry "wastes" would be a thing of the past. The environment is currently being threatened by huge factory hog farms that produce eye stinging manure by the hundreds of tons and threatens whole river systems with nightmarish "blooms" of flesh eating bacteria.
This means the end or at least the reduction of other forms of farm factory damage. Your kindly editor in his role as oil spill coordinator for the National Park Service recalls how the hum drum routine of petroleum spills would be occasionally be broken by a liquid chicken fat tanker truck losing control and bursting open in the drainage of Buffalo National River or Ozark National River in the "chicken belt". and the resulting clean up problems.
Then there are the ethical problems.
Most people drive quickly by the long, low windowless buildings where chickens are raised. Indeed, there are no signs suggesting that you drop in and take a look. There are no childrens'field trips to these buildings and certainly no childrens' field trips to the "processing" plants where cattle, hogs, or chickens are killed and disassembled.
Most people do not want to work in these places unless they have no choice. Life has changed only marginally for the meat processing workers since Upton Sinclair wrote about them in THE JUNGLE. in 1903 For a while, some of the meat processing plants were unionized, paying good wages, which took some of the onus off a dangerous and dirty job, but we now have "undocumented labor" who will work for $7.00 an hour and no union.
We all like the taste of meat, but we are not willing to contemplate how it got to our plate. Quorn or some rival mycoprotein could soon absolve us of that ethical problem.
Are there no downsides, environmental or otherwise, to Quorn or other mycoproteins?
I suspect there are. There is no free lunch.
Michael Jacobson of the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI) claims that Quorn can make you violently ill.
I reckon it can. In fact most foods will do that if you happen to be allergic to them. For example, one peanut can send you into anaphylactic shock and death if you happen to be seriously allergic to peanuts.
If you are allergic to Penicillin, you very probably would be allergic to Quorn or any other mycoprotein. Do not "surprise" friends or relatives with a dish containing Mycoproteins without first inquiring if they are allergic to mushrooms or penicillin.
The main adverse reaction to mycoprotein seems to be what our subtle Australian cousins refer to as a "Technicolor yawn"; instantaneous, spectacular and through.
Fortunately, adverse reaction to Mycoprotein is about 1 in 146,000. This compares very favorably to the 1 in 350 bad reaction to soy bean products (CSPI's favorite meat substitute) or shellfish, which have a dangerous 1 in 35 adverse reaction (probably due to polluted waters.)
Dr. Jacobson and CSPI also raise the science fiction bogey man that Mycoproteins are some how alien and unnatural.
CSPI claims ominously that "Quorn comes from a big vat in England"
Well, yes. However, my favorite brew, Bass Ale, also comes from a "big vat in England". Those who prefer single malt scotch will find that their favorite drink comes from a "big vat in Scotland". The more cultured among us who prefer Chateau Rothchild Medoc should know that their choice comes from "A big vat in France.
In short, the ethyl alcohol we all love and admire is the waste product from a certain fungi, called yeast. (Yes! Admit it! We are drinking fungus piss just like the Mormons have been trying to tell us all these years!) Penicillin and other fungal mold derivatives that give us such an unfair advantage over our bacterial neighbors, also come from "big vats."
(CSPI apparently has an interest, philosophical or otherwise, in the Soy bean industry.)
In sum, if humanity could reduce its dependency on traditional field agriculture and oceanic fishing through the production of mycoprotein, then we could devote huge swaths of the planet to nature reserves and marine sanctuaries.
We could, in short, leave the rest of the planet to itself.
CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION
Now that my fellow Republicans are back in office, we find that there is more emphasis on God, Motherhood, Apple Pie, and Fur Coats.
Fur coats? Well yes. Along with diamonds and big cars, a fur coat extracted from one of the more exotic species, is one of the best ways of saying "I am irresponsibly rich and I don't give a rat's rectum about what you think!."
This is both environmentally and politically incorrect.
Unless one is an extremely traditional Inuit, there is no justification for wearing animal fur to keep warm. Patagonia and other clothiers do the job much better.
The real intention of course, was not warmth, but to show your friends and enemies how much jack you or your significant other can put out for hairy conspicuous consumption.
In all fairness, this is not entirely a Republican phenomenon.
In 1962, Jackie Kennedy wore a leopard skin coat to official functions. As Mrs Kennedy was the fashion leader of her time, this was the biggest disaster to befall the spotted cats of the world since the last ice age.
Soon every wife or mistress of a prominent mover and shaker had to have a coat or coats made from leopard, jaguar, ocelot, or margay. Coats made from the pelts of the almost mystical snow leopard of the Himalayas was particularly prized. Never very common, the snow leopard was hunted almost to extinction. (One wretched rich girl, upon being told that the snow leopard was an endangered species, allegedly gushed "Wow! Then I'd better buy two coats!") The plight of the snow leopard was used as a metaphor for dying nature by the American naturalist and mystic, Peter Mathiessen in his elegiac THE SNOW LEOPARD.
It doesn't really matter if the source of the furs are farm raised mink or winter trapped Russian sable, both forms of fur procurement are brutal, disgusting enterprises.
Now we realize that romantics will point out that America and Canada were built on the fur trade; that well into the 19th century, the only reason men went West was to participate in the fur trade, that the fortune of fur trading monopolist, John Jacob Astor is still larger in real dollars than that of the computer magnate, Bill Gates.
That is true, but that was then and this is now. A similar case could be made for tobacco and slavery, but we have moved on. It is to be hoped that fur bearing creatures will be allowed to continue bearing their fur.
"But what of us Greedheads! What of conspicuous consumption! What are we to do?" "How will we show off?" you ask plaintively.
Well, yes! Greed and conspicuous consumption make the world go 'round, augmenting, if not beating, love.
What we need is a form of apparel that does not involve the death of endangered species or other cruelty to animals, yet is so blatantly, outrageously expensive that one's friends and neighbors will cower in beta submission as one's spouse or significant other goes to the head of the pack as the alpha female.
May I suggest the Japanese silk Kimono.
Joan and I were sight seeing in Tokyo and stopped in at a department store. It was close to wedding anniversary time and perhaps I should buy a present (rhetorical question, that!)
What does Japan produce besides electronics and cars, two items difficult to get on a plane?
Why silk kimonos, of course. One of their classic art forms.
The nice sales lady bowed to me when I asked to see kimonos suitable for an anniversary.
She laid two very beautiful kimonos, one of silk and gold thread, the other silk and silver thread on the counter.
Joan was unable to decide on which one.
Perhaps price could be the tie breaker. "How much for the golden one?" I said, pointing to my favorite.
"50,000" She replied, sweetly. That was dollars, not yen, as I found out.
I was able to maintain my composure and utter a non committal, but understanding "ummmm". This was greater than the take home pay of two thirds of the National Park Service.
"How much for the silver one?" I inquired nonchalantly
"60,000" she replied, with equal nonchalance.
I cocked an eyebrow at the apparent discrepancy between gold and silver. Patiently, the saleswoman showed the crass gaijin the superior workmanship and design that went into the silver threat kimono.
They were Asian. Perhaps they would bargain (though I sensed that the possibility of a K Mart blue light special was slight) Also, it would be the sort of bargain that would bankrupt you.
It was time to complement her on her service and the quality of the store's merchandise, which exquisite as it was, did not entirely meet my needs, so I would regrettably have to take my millions elsewhere.
She understood perfectly and bowed yet again.
So perhaps the Japanese silk kimono would make a less bloody, but no less expensive substitute for the fur coat.
On the other hand, if you can ask "Would Jesus drive an SUV?", you can also fairly ask "Would Mary wear a fur coat?". Depends on what she has to prove.
SAFETY MESSAGE
Remember, your sole reason for looking up THUNDERBEAR on the internet is your ceaseless quest for safety and the safety message! No one can challenge you on that!
So here's the latest.
While visiting Spain's excellent national park system, we noted that virtually every visitor center information desk has a large clear plastic container for used batteries--and the containers were well used.
Much of mercury contamination is non-point source, that is, you and I. We don't think that "Just one" will hurt anything, so into the landfill it goes.
The used battery container can be used by the staff, all of whom use batteries in their work, and the presence of the container on the desk preaches a silent sermon--always the best kind.
AVOIDING TERRORISM
After completing her State Department assignment in Thailand and Cambodia, Joan wanted to show me her favorite part of Asia, maybe the world--the soft, gentle, magical island of Bali.It was true that Bali was part of the Moslem republic of Indonesia, but Bali itself was Hindu, indeed a quiet, peaceful form of Hinduism. Everyone got along well in Bali, the eternal
"Morning of the World" as one poet put it.
There would be temples, green clad volcanoes, turquoise seas and friendly people. There would be no problems in paradise.
Al Qaeda planned otherwise, of course. In October, they bombed a night club in Kuta, on the southern coast of Bali, killing hundreds, mainly Australian tourists.
This led to a change in plans. We could still go to Bali, security would be excellent and accommodations very easy to find.
However, we agreed that going to Bali as tourists at this time would be like dancing at a funeral.
We could not go home as the Montgomery County sniper was still on the loose, ruthlessly killing our neighbors, some less than a mile from our house. Being shot dead in one's driveway seemed a poor way to end a trip.
Was there a safe, secure, terror free country nearby?
Of course! All one had to do was find the nearest communist country and one would be tucked into womb-like personal security.
No unpleasant riots, anti-American or otherwise. Walk anywhere, any time, no robbers, bandits, dacoits or other unpleasant people. Any belligerent religious or political beliefs are immediately stifled in the most direct and assertive manner. People know their place and do as they're told. It's the kind of country that Dick Cheney could admire and may like to retire to.
A nervous tourist has to move fast however, as Communist countries are becoming endangered species.
There is the Big One of course, Red China. It has many attractions and gives every indication of staying around for awhile. Then there's North Korea, the world's only hereditary communist monarchy, but food for the tourist as well as the general public seems scarce. There's Cuba, still keeping the red flag flying, but it's too far from Asia.
This leaves Laos and Vietnam.
Laos is still the backpackers' mecca and nirvana. Plenty of cheap dope, warm weather, inexpensive lodging and food, and nobody asking you when you're going to get a job, marry that girl, and settle down.
Somehow, Joan and I felt we just wouldn't fit in. ("Say, dude, how exactly does this opium pipe work and what exactly are you supposed to experience?")
That sort of left Viet Nam. Absolutely no danger of terrorism there and it was basically next door.
A visa was needed for entry into Viet Nam. Now everybody needs a passport to prove who you are, and in a lugubrious situation, to identify your body, but not every country requires a visa. Often, it's a tit for tat arrangement (You uppity folks require a visa to get into YOUR country, so we'll do the same for you!) In addition, there is often a charge, often quite hefty, to provide a little beer money for the bureaucracy.
Viet Nam charges $40.00 and they want it in dollars, not dong.
The American philosopher, PJ O'Rourke, once remarked that Viet Nam could never be taken seriously in economic quarters until they came up with a less hilarious name for their currency.
Indeed, I never failed to crack up when Joan would ask me "If I was short on dong" or if she could borrow some dong.
Ho Chi Minh's aesthetic, wispy countenance was on every denomination of dong, lest you forgot who the Big Guy was.
As much as the Vietnamese genuinely love and admire Ho Chi Minh, they admire dollars more than dong and you will occasionally see George Washington's face showing up when currency is being counted.
This is not quite as bizarre as it might seem as Uncle Ho had a liking for George. When one Western leftist gushed to Ho Chi Minh that "He was the Lenin of Viet Nam", he replied that "No, I am the George Washington of Viet Nam."
The parallels between the American revolution and the Vietnam version have been exaggerated, but Ho sort of identified with a field commander who fought a long, often losing war against the most powerful nation of the time, but triumphed in the end.
We flew into Hanoi's Noi Bai Airport on a short, uneventful flight from Bangkok. The airport was one of those briskly modern concrete and glass knockoffs that you find in any medium size American or European city.
The immigration officials in their trim green and red uniforms were efficient, correct--and not particularly friendly.
Viet Nam is a nation of rules and these rules are to be obeyed as I quickly found out.
In most countries, while the sign may say "one person at a time" at the immigration desk, this is understood to mean the family members go through together as it makes sense, is less confusing and is quicker for all. Not at Noi Bai Airport. I amiably followed Joan to the immigration kiosk, the guards moved swiftly and the earnest young man with the sub machine gun looked even more earnest. I was hustled back to my place in line and suitably glared at.
During our stay in Viet Nam, I noted that the average friendly Viet Namese would go out of their way to have as little contact as possible with the green and red tabbed representatives of the state.
The hotel van picked us up for the hour long trip from the airport into central Hanoi. This is delta country, flat and rich as Iowa. One incongruous Midwestern touch was a corn field bigger than any I had seen in South Dakota The provider of the fertility is the mighty Red River, at this point nearly as wide as the Mississippi.
As we crossed the river on the modern four lane span, we could see the battered Long Bien Railroad Bridge. The bridge was designed in the 19th century by Gustave Eiffel (of Tower fame) and when it opened in 1902, it was the longest bridge in Asia and one of the longest spans in the world.
During the Viet Nam War (or, as the Viets understandably call it, The American War) The Long Bien Bridge was the "A" number One target as it was the only bridge across the Red River and vital to the movement of military supplies south from the Soviet Union and China.
As the bridge was over a mile long, only 38 feet wide and defended by just about all the massed surface to air missiles and anti aircraft guns that the Soviets could spare, the target presented American pilots with an "interesting" problem (pilots love understatement). Like the citizens of Baltimore who went to bed wondering if "Our flag was still there", the citizens of Hanoi went to bed each night for years, wondering if their bridge would be still there in the morning. Sometimes large section of it were not, but they always patched it up. The result looks like a grade school project using parts from 20 different recycled Erector Sets, but the old bridge is still handling traffic at age 100, and like our Fort McHenry, it is one of the patriotic icons of the nation.
The French designed their colonial capital Hanoi to be a sort of tropical "Paris of the Orient" with stately public buildings, wide streets and nearly as wide sidewalks.
Today's Hanoi resembles Sturgis, South Dakota during the annual motorcycle rally far more than Paris.
The trafffic is incredible. There are very few automobiles, but there is a curb to curb roaring, pulsating flood of motorcycles and motorbikes. There are very few stop lights. How does a pedestrian cross the street?
On our first morning in Hanoi, Joan and I stood on the curb, staring at the river of steel, very much like Moses at the Red Sea, waiting for God to part the waters.
Eventually, friendly Vietnamese came along, took us by the arm and showed how it was done. You wait for a tiny, almost imperceptible lull and then stride purposefully into traffic. The trick is not to panic, but to move forward at a steady pace so that the traffic can flow around you. It is not in their interest to hit you (they don't get points). As long as you move forward and provide them visual clues concerning your ultimate destination, you develop a commensal if not symbiotic relationship with the traffic. It is death to panic and retreat.
Soon we were able to saunter into a maelstrom of motorcycles while carrying on a conversation, the ultimate in Hanoi pedestrian sang froid.
We hired a guide to take us around to the major sights of Hanoi, of which there are not that many. The number one sight is of course the Mausoleum of The Father of the Nation, Ho Chi Minh.
"Uncle Ho", as he preferred to be called, normally resides in a
huge stone cube that resembles Lenin's tomb in Moscow. Unfortunately for us, "Uncle Ho" was off to Moscow for his annual yearly check up.
You see, while Ho is dead, he is certainly not forgotten. He is the object (some would say the victim) of a curious facet of the Communist religion, that is, human taxidermy and corpse veneration.
Lenin had hoped that he would be buried next to his mother. However, some scientific bureaucrats were able to secure life long sinecures for themselves and their cronies by convincing the politburo that "The Leader of the Vanguard of the Proletariat" should be stuffed and exhibited like a two headed calf at a carnival freak show.
When the next leader, Joseph Stalin died, he too was embalmed and placed on the bier next to Lenin. However, growing awareness of Stalin's crimes caused him to be plucked from the bier and denied eternal cosmetic treatment.
Uncle Ho had wished to be cremated, but his wishes were overruled by his hagiographers who knew an icon when they saw it, so he too was embalmed by the Moscow practitioners and installed in a Lenin style tomb with periodic returns to the Moscow College of embalming Knowledge.
China's Chairman Mao also wanted to be cremated, but the Party Faithful had him stuffed and exhibited also, with the added twist that since he had fallen out with Moscow over doctrine, he would be denied cosmetic touch up by the Russians, so the ever resourceful Chinese are making do quite well on their own.
So, with Uncle Ho vacationing in Moscow, we could only observe his mausoleum from a respectful distance and reflect on mortality. The Mausoleum and buildings around it were ornamented by huge banners with statements in big red letters, leaving no doubt that the reader was being exhorted.
I asked our guide, Mr. Nguyen, for translations of the slogans.
The first slogan said "The People and the Republic of Viet Nam will live forever". Fair enough, I could go along with that one.
The second slogan was on the tomb itself. "Ho Chi Minh will live forever in the minds of the Vietnamese people". A reasonable statement--whatever the political bent of the individual Viet, it was unlikely that Uncle Ho would be forgotten anytime soon.
The third banner was on a government building across the square from the tomb. I pointed to it and Mr. Nguyen cracked up.
Now neighbors, the Vietnamese are not humorless, but they are some of the most earnest people I have ever encountered. When it comes to Seriousness of Purpose, they are on duty 7/24. Therefore, I was a bit surprised when Mr. Nguyen burst into laughter.
It seems that the translation was "Communism and the Communist Party of Vietnam will last forever!"
Mr. Nguyen clearly thought this not only unlikely, but was also the funniest joke of the day. (Nguyen was not his real name, and even if it were, should the Viet government round up all Nguyens in Vietnam, they would have to rent space in the US to put them all)
During our stay in Vietnam, we were struck by how little influence communism as a social system seemed to have on the lives of ordinary people. As a police and control system, it seems to have worked very, very well, but as a welfare system not so well.
It was as if Lenin's famous "Locomotive of History" had charged right past the Finland Station of Scandinavian Welfarism to arrive at Adam Smith's Laissez Faire capitalism with some sort of Vietnamese Dick Chaney in command. Very interesting.