O, Death. Of the Gulf. And maybe us.

In oilpocalypse by summerburkesLeave a Comment

The first rule of the Ladies’ Guide to the Apocalypse is: Avoid certain death.

Why do blowout preventers exist on oil wells, anyway? Well, partially, because the methane doesn’t exit in a steady stream. It burps. And methane is spewing out of that oilcano hole at a rate of 3000 to 1. So take the number of Valdez tankers this Gulf Coast bloodletting has claimed, and multiply that by 3000, and that’s how much extra methane has been released into the Gulf so far. One big burp, and we’re all done for.

It’s alright if we perish in a fiery oilcano, we guess. Or if we meet our Maker in a volcanic tsunami filled with poison gas — that’s a very metal way to die. However, we would’ve liked to have done more. This fight has not even begun, and it’s still in the stages where it could actually be turned around. Will we have to evacuate? Do we get to come back? Maybe we can all collectively get off our asses and make the government straighten out this cleanup situation, to where our land isn’t poisoned forever.

But only if BP / Halliburton / Goldman Sachs and the rest of those slithering cold-blooded killers are out of the way. Did you know that on April 9, 2010, Halliburton bought Boots and Coots, the largest oil-spill cleanup company on the planet? And at the same time, Goldman Sachs, who’s joined at the hip with Halliburton, unloaded 44% of its stock in BP? Yes, you read that right. Eleven days before the Deepwater Horizon rig exploded, killing 11 Americans, Halliburton acquired the next phase of its wealth, and then put the hit out on the Gulf Coast.

May God have mercy on them, and on us. Where’s that tinfoil hat, and is it bulletproof?

All those Cajuns and Indians and fishermen, yes, their fishing careers are over. But green jobs? That could be next. Seize BP and appoint a non-partisan federal committee to create a WPA-style organization whereby the people robbed of their livelihoods get paid to clean up. Paid with the assets seized from BP, and not our tax dollars.

Quick, before those slimeballs are able to secretly divest and hide all their trillions and then declare bankruptcy. Call those fuckers out. Take their shit. Even Scarface would’ve been jailed with all his mansions and gold chains and piles of cocaine tooken by the Feds at this point.

What the F is the government’s problem? … Oh yes. No separation of corporation and state means there are no people with hearts in charge — only ego-driven take-it-all ballers who feed the greedy green machines inside themselves. And they will not leave until we kick over the tables in the temple.

good job, everybody! More billable hours there!

Meanwhile, we’re outta here. We’ve told the NOLA peeps this isn’t goodbye — this is see you later. We’ll be the assholes who leave for the summer. This writer sat through the last New Orleans summer dammit — and with a hellish Jim Crow fancy restaurant job and psychotic neighbors, no less. So it’s our turn to take a break. We don’t want to work on the new house until we know whether it’s going to be there in another 5 years or not. And it’s too hot to work on it. And we can’t stay in New Orleans without continuing to go down into the Corex-shit on the coast.

Poison gases get pushed inland faster than they can disperse. Corexit is four times more toxic than crude oil. Corexit is airborne. We heard a report today of a friend’s father in Florida who went out in the rain and came back in with burning skin, like he’d just taken a bath in hot sauce.

As far as survival goes, one piece of philosophy a U.S. Marine Corps soldier shared with us was this: Run to the hills before everyone else realizes they have to. (Or are forced to, with their weapons taken by governmental henchmen at gunpoint — another un-American lesson Louisianians won’t forget after Katrina). If we’re overreacting, fine. If it’s a false alarm, so be it. But leaving when the Spidey senses tell you to, that’s what a survivalist would do.

The car is half packed, but we have to take a trip to Grand Isle one more time before we go. Hope the crack in the windshield holds. But we don’t plan to stay overnight, since the Corexit planes come out at 4am to spray.

Not many people seem as eager to leave, or as ready, as we do, but maybe they haven’t gotten the Corexit headaches / rashes yet, or done the research yet, or they don’t think it’s that bad. But our mind returns endlessly to that friend who has Gulf War Syndrome, who didn’t know central nervous system damage was happening then, but years later, he’s in chronic, inexplicable pain.

Look no further than the bleak death-history of the Exxon Valdez cleanup workers to see how this is going to pan out, if Scarface stays in charge of cleanup. In America, we’ve got a three-party system: the Democratic Party, the Republican Party, and the Gangster Party.

The Gangster Party consists of about 17 dudes who secretly run everything. You think that’s a crazy notion? Look at the hierarchy of everything else in nature. It’s alright, they have their place — lol, lizard-capitalists need to exist, too, in the grand scheme of things — but are we supposed to let them win?

Here’s how to let them win. Don’t speak out when you see evil, because you’re scared of the hard-to-control attention-spotlight which will shine on you afterward. Don’t do anything, because you feel helpless and are scared of getting arrested for peaceable assembly — one of those Constitutional things we have the freedom to enjoy. Don’t exercise your basic rights as an American, to write your Congresspeople and remind them they work for you. Because right now they work for the Gangster Party. But not for long, friends. We get this feeling Youtube is going to save the world …

We don’t want to leave Waterworld. We would much rather pack up and move from New Orleans TO the bayou, instead of AWAY from the coming oilcano tsunami poison cloud of death. But they’re killing Waterworld. THE GANGSTERS ARE KILLING EVERYTHING DOWN HERE.

Are you still afraid of dying for what you believe in? You don’t have to die for it, per se, and what you believe in doesn’t have to be all that hardcore or ideological. You just have to ACT ON SOMETHING. We’re talking about given assumptions now:

1) pollution of the oceans is apocalyptically bad, no matter how it happened,

2) there are more efficient ways of cleanup that aren’t being explored because the criminals are in charge of the crime scene and paying themselves to “clean up”, so they’re going to make it last as long as they can, and bonus if a lot of these dumb coonasses’ homes and fishing grounds get “accidentally” destroyed, so the Gangster Party can eventually stick another set of needles in the oil-rich land underneath their feet, and

3) for whatever nefarious reasons about the economic conditions of the regions in question, as well as the oil under our feet, BP / Halliburton / Goldman Sachs are poisoning everyone in southern Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, and maybe Cuba and Mexico too but who even cares about them. Right?

Simple, three-point system for what may be good to focus on right now, to try in your own individual and very powerful way to help, before it’s too late. Example of how it could’ve been better already:

When the tropical depression / storm / oilycanes started coming our way, if the pump-truck gold rush had indeed begun, and the gates opened to the American people to clean up all they could’ve themselves, as they vocally wished, despite the risks … if there’d been less oil in the water … if the Feds had had the AMERICAN BALLS to seize BP and take all their Gangster Party shit, to pay for the Gangster Party mess — there would now be less oil to clean up off of everything else in the marsh that is soon to die. Because oil and Corexit are going to splatter all over it.

here’s the schedule for Grand Isle’s 2010 summer fishing rodeo fun. Everything cancelled. Ghost town, nobody roaming around apart from the locals, the BPA/NOAA officials, and the unwelcome out-of-towners being paid $10/hr to not really clean it up at all, and everybody knows it

Ever heard of the term “clean as you go”? BP hasn’t. At the risk of repeating ourselves, we have it on good authority from veteran oilmen that the first thing they teach you in oil-spill cleanup school is to let the mess get as big as it possibly can, in order to create more billable hours.

Fact: BP Gangster Party accountants have been cooking the books, and already been busted doing it by Bobby Jindal. Some of the “people” they have been “paying” in the Vessels of Opportunity Program are over 100 years old, not born yet, or magically residing in Louisiana with non-Louisiana zip codes. Why is this not … more … out … there? Argh. It’s so frustrating.

So the subtext of all this is that BP is milking this disaster for all the cash it can, and hiding all the information we citizens of the Gulf Coast NEED in order to inform and protect ourselves. And, worst of all, it’s starting to look like they SET IT UP TO HAPPEN. Just follow the money.

We bet if more people who unfortunately get all their news from the mainstream media (blackout) knew about the possibility of poison-gas tsunamis and the reality of BP poisoning billions of people and a large swath of the ocean with its highly carcinogenic and toxic industrial slurry … well, maybe they still wouldn’t do anything. The ‘what ifs’ are killing us. We Southerners may smile a lot and talk pleasantly, but inside, we’re experiencing a deep, collective psychological indentation that will soon turn into a hell of a scar.

One of Dug’s co-workers went to the hospital yesterday because he couldn’t breathe. Yes we said “co-workers” — Dug got a job with BP the other day. We couldn’t find any fundraising money or donations from people to pay him comparable wages to help us run up and down the coast deploying hair boom in the marsh before the hurricanes came …

Dug is still out there changing oily Corexity booms for BP because he needs to feed his family and doesn’t have a choice, because all the fish he usually sells are dead. He comes home every day so sick, he says, he goes straight to bed, whereas he’s used to flitting around Grand Isle like an insomniac dragonfly. His voice sounds terrible. He hasn’t answered his phone today … it makes us worry … this is the reality of Dug’s life since you met him, and if he keeps working for BP much longer … we can’t even think about it. There are thousands and thousands of fishermen like him.

Dug. Dug’s beach. Dug’s town. Dug and one billion other people who grew up here, lived and breathed here, took care of here, didn’t need anything else but to be right here. “Here” is now an intentional chemical spill designed to starve and poison Dug and his family until they die or leave.

Or maybe you think your voice doesn’t count. Or maybe you’re telling yourself that line, because it’s a good reason to continue to be lazy and wait for the end of the world, which will be as ugly or as beautiful as you think you deserve.

Whose side are you on, anyway?

we don’t want to leave this place

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