Gypsies Tramps and Thieves

I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show 
My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw 
Papa would do whatever he could 
Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good 
-Cher, 'Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves'

Today I was reminded yet again of what it means to be "environmentally conscious". 
"Environmentally Conscious" means you do many good things. You compost. You recycle. You use chic fabric bags to carry your unpasteurized milk and your brown eggs home from the organic market.You ride your bike home from your local produce co-op with the bike trailer and your Bolivian-sweater-clad toddler clutching your sprouted wheat bread and organic kale, all the while threatening to kick at cars who drive too close. But not doing it because your Tods shoes are meant for pedaling bicycles, not denting hubcaps. 

That bike trailer better be from Whole Foods

Now personally and not to brag...I was hip before all you all. My mom raised us organic.

 No white sugar, no white flour, very little red meat, lots of fish and (what I deemed horrible at the time) veggie messes like quinoa and tofu and falafel, and goofy things like smelts and fasulye pilaki. Know what we used for pasta? That's right rice noodles which I'm sorry taste suckful when served with spaghetti sauce. And I think the first time I had a hot dog was in high school, back when the risk of bringing a nitrate and pig-bone-riddled sausage home was about as even as being a pagan (I jest.)
We clapped when the one pumpkin seed my brother planted sprouted 27 pumpkins. Growing up in E. Washington state the abundance of fresh fruits and produce was almost an afterthought. 
We were bloated with providence. We would glean the apple, pear and cherry orchards and lay under the heavy branches of apricot trees in our backyard. The raised beds my parents built were always full of tomatoes and peppers and squashes.  Concord grapes flourishing along the back fence like beautiful velvet ropes of globular goodness were painstakingly picked and transformed into the most delicious grape jam. I have decided, if I get a choice, that Heaven will smell like Concord grape jam recently sieved and sealed off the stove. We were duly blessed.
We did not use toothpaste.' Fluoride ingested caused stomach cancer' we were taught. And of course the pendulum would swing to the extreme...huge masses of toilet paper crammed into every closet due to the impending Apocalypse. 

 Remember, this was during the Iranianiac 70's where the Shah was some glowering ember in a turban and each day a little number would appear in the corner of the newscast. 
Day 47 of the Hostage Crisis. Those were anxious times, and having a world leader with whale blubber lips and two bee-stung eyes did nothing to assuage the worrysome state we found ourselves in. The world was going to end.
....Of course now I wonder..really, how much petroleum is used to process toilet paper? I can understand lines at the gas pump, but really? Lines at the paper goods aisle as well? I think someone was just overly concerned about covering his @$$ ;)

Somehow the 70's transformed us into the materialistic nobs of the 80's. I blame Disco. 
 I mean come on. 

How do you go from a world-altering oil crisis to $80 plastic Swatch watches? 

Those were heady times then. Reagan gave us permission to buy all the petroleum byproduct we could imagine... like those God-forsaken Moon boots?

 The pendulum had swung back and now we were gobbling up all the goods and services we could muster. (Because really, one Swatch watch was bourgeois. You needed at least 3 to truly make a statement. --Ed.) Somewhere an oil emir was saying 'fetchy-fetchy', rubbing his fingers together.

Now as if on cue the world has taken its pendulum back to its earthro-centric self.

                                           Trees are the Answer. Hug a tree, Save an Owl. Fracking-Bad. 

Windmills-Good. And not the charming wooden windmills we'd see scattered across the European countryside.

Sinister blade-looking devices that line the Wyoming landscape. 

Beloved would wave his arm at the latticework of spinning windmill blades and announce to anyone who would listen (his captive audience in the car)-- "All of those won't add up to the energy production of one acre that an oil well needs." Having toured a 'wind farm' in the far away and beyond of Wyoming (because when you marry a Internal Combustion and Pollutant Emissions engineer--Bish, that's just what you do!) I stood mouth agape at the height of this windmill. I then commented on the monumental gash skived out of one side of it and learned it was from one of those windmill blades snapping off in a windstorm (ironic!). The blade keened off of its orbit and went spinning off into the Wyoming landscape, taking a large portion of its base and possibly a few antelope heads with it as it landed nearly a half-mile away. 
What I would have paid to have witnessed that. Dang.

But I can see the point. Fossil fuels are the dinosaurs of days gone by some would say. Fine. Losing our dependence on foreign oil is critical to our nation's stability. I totally agree. And I support whole-heartedly the idea of alternative energy resources and discovering newer, smarter ways to support our families without exhausting our planet. 
It is common.sense. 
Waste not, want not. Pesticides and chemicals, no.
                                          Apply-cheeked babies and mercury-free vaccines, Yes. 

Which brings me to the following harangue. Why with all of this talk about mercury-in our fish-our food-our vaccines-why would I ever allow mercury willingly into our home? 

"Mercury is fluid and has a unique property for being a liquid metal at room temperature. 
Generally though, it is to be avoided", says the resident Emissions Engineer. 
My point: 
I believe with all of my heart that mercury lightbulbs are-
like anti-bacterial soap-
the downfall of Western civilization. 
Mercury is the biggest scam foisted upon this generation. 
It is the Gremlin of the interior lighting design idea. 

It will not pass, says I, the Gandalf of the New Age of Cynicism. Not through our Bag-End.

It is like the song says, 'the Preacher Man selling Dr Good' by the wayside. 

Why the dislike you ask? 
Let me explain. I've tried to do my part.
 I've tried numerous times to buy the 'right bulb' for the world and for my children. (Yes please let's exploit our children one.more.time in this political season shall we? Ha). The end result? 
I end up with a dangerous, toxic and lethal health risk in my home. These pieces of mercurial crap don't last "for decades" and "never need replacing". 

They have, on average, lasted similarly long if not shorter than the regular 'naughty bulbs' I continue to stock up on. And these lethal balls of poison end up collecting in boxes in my garage. And after today's replacement of the lightbulb I had changed 4 months ago in the basement, I was livid...what a complete waste of my money. Thrice the price, thrice the risk, none of the foreseeable benefit.

So yes, I do believe that the Environmental Movement is participating in one of the biggest foists on the Planet. Selling us crap goods, at three times the price ($9 for one bulb? Bull...sh!t!!!), which need to be transported to an  appropriate disposal site approved by the EPA. 
This disposal site is normally not within city limits, and is usually denuded of all foliage.

 Not unlike a Prius engine production plant. 

So I refuse to follow the Preacher of the Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. I will never buy another mercury lightbulb. Now I hear that the 'naughty tungsten lightbulbs' are to be completely phased out  by October 2016. Time to start stocking up every nook, cranny, shelf, closet and pantry. Not to cover our @$$es, necessarily, just to be able to see them after dark. I guess the apple don't fall from the tree. 

I wonder if I could buy an oil lamp from a Gypsy.