Patience (with a big stick) is a (profitable) Virtue.

The Exxon Valdez oil spill occurred in Prince William Sound, Alaska, on March 24, 1989. It is considered to be one of the most devastating human-caused environmental disasters ever to occur in history.












AFTER more than 20 years EXXON (now Exxon/Mobil) is still working the EXXON VALDEZ oil spill in Alaska. Not on the beaches (that's work for old mother nature) but in the Courtrooms - where the real profits are made.

In the [Exxon Valdez oil spill] case of Baker v. Exxon, an Anchorage jury awarded $287 million for actual damages and $5 billion for punitive damages. The punitive damages amount was equal to a single year's profit by Exxon at that time.

(Big headlines everywhere announced/cheered the decision against greedy big oil)

Exxon appealed the ruling, and the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ordered the original judge, Russel Holland, to reduce the punitive damages.
On December 6, 2002, the judge announced that he had reduced the damages to $4 billion.

(well that's still a lot of money)

Exxon appealed again
Judge Holland increased the punitive damages to $4.5 billion, plus interest.

(see justice works, it's fair)

After more appeals, and oral arguments heard by the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals on January 27, 2006, the damages award was cut to $2.5 billion on December 22, 2006.

(now justice is really working)

Exxon appealed again.
On May 23, 2007, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals denied Exxon/Mobil's request for a third hearing and let stand its ruling that Exxon owes $2.5 billion in punitive damages.

(justice knows when it's got it right)

Exxon then appealed to the Supreme Court,
On February 27, 2008, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments for 90 minutes.
The Supreme Court vacated the $2.5 billion award remanding the case back to a lower court,

Exxon's actions were deemed "worse than negligent but less than malicious." The judgment limits punitive damages to the compensatory damages, which for this case were calculated as $507.5 million.

(Big justice takes time, and patience)

Exxon's official position is that punitive damages greater than $25 million are not justified because the spill resulted from an accident, and because Exxon spent an estimated $2 billion cleaning up the spill and a further $1 billion to settle related civil and criminal charges.


for a bit more of the devil in the (unheralded) details: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill

Should I stay or Should I go. Now

Hank was on the edge and he saw nowhere to go. Just at his back, the grey clouds were hanging right on top of the mountain, on the other side of the hallow. One little change in pressure and they would be right over him. Already, standing in full hot sunshine, the wind would gust and bring rain. It came in fine, almost imperceptible mists. It brought back memories of a summer terrace in a five star hotel where he had never been.

Which way to go. There were endless rows that needed tending. He went along the rows, bent down and tore away the ‘gourmands’ that sucked the plants force and returned nothing but fatigue. Each souche seem to thank him but always there was the next demanding. His body was breaking. His back was tanned.

Hank was on the edge and he saw nowhere to go. He stood up, the water that had gathered with the sweat rolled down his back. He felt the mist blow in and it cooled his face and chest. He had nothing but the back of his hand to wipe his face. He wondered where Veronica was now.
He looked up and saw an arch in the sky. It was banded in intense color. It was an intimate little thing stretching from the side of one hill to the next. Hank could see the rainbow touching ground in a the woods on the far side of the colline. The trees were illuminated in bright colors. Encasing this spectacle was another, much grander, far reaching, and vaguer hued, rainbow that was must have been evident at great distances.

Hank felt the edge, and suddenly decided to stop looking for somewhere to go. It dawned on him that it would be best to just stay where he was. He took one more look at the trees that the rainbow had dressed in psychedelic color, took a deep breathe and bent back down into the rows.

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want

Dissection, deception. I smoke, I drink, I smoke again. I wanted to get at the core of the matter, now that I've gotten there, I just want to sleep. It all sounds pathetic when you break it down, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s better than living a folly.

We sell our dreams so cheaply only because our dreams are so cheap. I want this, I want that. I want my cake and to eat it too. The oil is flowing into the gulf, our food, our beaches, are full of the shit, but still we want our cars. What's happening, let’s break it down, I’m begging you, even if it becomes to clear to handle.

We’re crazy now, let’s go all the way. Really, if you think about it, how much worse can it get. The raucous sleep of the insane seems more sane than the concept of a soundless sleep. Or am I supposed to believe that I am still a baby, or even worse, that babies sleep a peaceful sleep.

Yes, sleep. Let’s hide away in the land of dreams where things happen to us and we relinquish all control. Tonight I cut apart a heart and found only flaccid muscle.

• 
  

Drink drink drink, sleep will come. It’s just another glass away. I’ll sleep like a baby. But if you look at the data who wants that. The truth is, that more than 70 percent of infants and toddlers have a Baby Sleeping pattern problem, at least according to the National Sleep Foundation. I have a sleeping pattern problem too, I thought I could dissect the cause and cure it. In the end I realized that I’m still a baby - I just want my needs met.

It’s amusing the constructs of us big babies. Self actualization is just one example. Sure, in theory it sounds so right. Pretty words, even from un-pretty faces, always sound so nice. The actions that follow, at least after the love fest that leaves our ears ringing is over, always seems a little bit more raw. Words, and their promise, never live up to their potential. But never mind, just sleep, tomorrow is another day.

I woke up at 4:16 with a slimy feeling and slimy grey skies. The remorse and questioning of a hebrew. My sleeping pattern was off, I just couldn’t forget. At 6:20 I smoked my first cigarette. Today I said, I will find out the truth, in reality it was the first thing I desired and the last thing I wanted. You see I am human too, a baby in an old mans body. The only difference is when I want to cry I can’t. I always remember the funny side of our folly. It’s not drama we live but comedy, no matter how tragic the outcome appears.

When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Really, I want to believe, but how do I remove the stains of the freshly dissected heart laying in my bed.

Love Note to Texas.

My beautiful brother with whom one time, along with my father in heaven measured 100 straight lines to map the winding banks of a flowing river, is counting birds today in Texas. It's a 24 hour day for bragging rights of the beak geeks. Me, I was sitting in a garden in France eating and drinking on a beautiful day looking at the sky and each bird that passed. I was staring at the sky for it's population of birds that all wore his face.

He's an imitation texan, like I'm an imitation frenchman. I was happy to pass the day with him. It was him who activated the little palm tree that stood behind me while I sat there sitting in the sun after the coffee with a small glass of Mirabel in hand. With each breeze, it literally kept me turning my head with it's noise of a flock of birds taking flight. I got excited with the thought 'oh - goldmine' and laughed with his joy in a victory of a senseless and pure competition.

C'etait tres bon, texas inhabiting the south of france.

a nocens somnium

- it’s starting again, he said.

She said nothing for a long moment, then walked away. She stopped in the doorway and turned back looking at him. Her mouth made a small clicking sound that let him know that inside her rigid body there was motion - it was her tongue breaking free from the roof of her mouth, she was about to say something.

- I want you to be as miserable as I am.

It had started again.

French Lesson - m/s 3. Indefinant, Negative pronouns, or, Lot's wife.

Negative pronouns negate, refuse, or cast doubt
on the existence of the noun that they replace.

It’s an awful position to be in, he said,
the constant negating.
-It’s all people see in you.
It’s the unending plombe gray cloud that accompanies you - toujours les plaints.

Personne ne me connaît ici.
No one knows me here.
(PERSONNE/nobody is the subject)

Je ne vends aucun des livres.
I'm not selling any of the books.
(AUCUN/none is the direct object)

Elle ne pense à rien.
She's not thinking about anything.
(RIEN/nothing is the indirect object)

It comes from everywhere. It wears humans down, the lead filled skies, always heavy and threatening.

But whatever-
If you can’t change the weather, you just have to get out of it.
It even seems senseless to say fuck you. Negative pronouns like, she, must already know what people think.

But still - nobody, none, nothing...
For a noun, even a pronoun like, him,
it makes a dis-engaging atmo-sphere.

Selah - ms/2

The rain had been constant. They were both hurrying to finish clearing the field.
-They are reeking havoc.
-Yes, yes that’s true, but look at them.
He cocked his head upwards, it shook slightly.
- Look what we can do.
In the distance, like four spinning points on a compass, a group of jets traced a great circle 2000 feet above the ground. In the distance they were pure grace, and their sound was simply power.

Henri glanced down at his boots, they were caked with mud. He shifted his regard, Paul’s were worse. As he looked back up, each point of the compass spun out of the circle taking a straight line. One would be over them in the time it took to bend back down into their work.
- we’ve got to hurry

High in the sky, a finger exerted an infinitesimal force. The roar of the jets rendered each screaming round silent as it sped earthward at 3500 miles per hour. Each unknowing, on it’s own individual trajectory.

Paul bent down. Henri paused, raising his hands as the plane sped over them. He could see the helmeted pilot turn his head briefly, and he was gone. Henri quickly turned and stooped back down to work. He saw Paul's boots were still muddy. It was a moment later Henri realized his fate. The rest of Paul was strewn about the field.