The tranquilities of a peaceful life living on a beach teaching surfing unexpectedly mutate in Andrea Di Stefano's Escobar: Paradise Lost, as love magnetically draws a couple together, and a Canadian romantic is suddenly thrust into the world of cocaine exportation.
Tectonic shifts.
Alternative outputs.
The couple is quite young and Nick (Josh Hutcherson) somewhat ill-prepared for his newfound corruptly honourable daily transactions, their relationship fervid and flourishing, his responsibilities, a discombobulating mind fuck.
Kingpin Pablo Escobar (Benicio del Toro) takes religion quite seriously.
He distributes wealth to the people.
He takes care of friends and family.
Requiring strict obedience.
And no nonsense.
The film embraces its haunting naive blossoming recourse to sound polarized youthful degeneration with multidimensional popularized efficiency, almost tumbling off a cliff, the established and the entrepreneur coming together as family, age inspecting its curious new fledgling, love securely blanketing the stage.
The crimes.
A chilling if not formulaic examination of familial stress and stipulated largesse, competing ethical constabularies cauterized in political inflammations.
Nick is forced to adapt as the authorities move in and Escobar downsizes.
To fight back.
To survive.
Solid career move for Hutcherson.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
American Sniper
Clint Eastwood's American Sniper is about soldiers.
It's not about politics or asking questions, it's about the people who risked their lives fighting for a cause they believed in, incendiary polemics aside, they were on the ground, fighting an enemy intent on killing them, living through events that would haunt the survivors for the rest of their lives, experiential extracurricular extents, forging bonds through action, teams, through combat.
It's focused on one sniper in particular, Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), with a gift for precision, an eye for detail.
He becomes a legend.
A part of a team, embracing his role as protector, he saves the lives of his fellow recruits time and time again, through vigilance and dedication, making decisions no one should have to make, accepting the consequences, psychologically covering up the outcomes.
Civilian life becomes difficult.
He leaves unfinished business in Iraq, a nemesis at large, who continues to hunt his compatriots, this unnerves him as he tries to live with his family, überconscious conscience, the fall out of his exceptional track record.
Which leads to an exciting Young Guns sequence.
A compelling cinematic interpretation of levelheaded battlegrounded hysteria.
Direct, straightforward, and to the point, while mixing in enough trauma to unsettlingly exfoliate, American Sniper brings together eclectic teams, unified through bitter shattering circumstances.
What actually took place is fictionalized to the point where it makes a strong war film, however, this aspect of its creation makes what actually took place seem fictional, which takes away from its realistic impacts.
But it still salutes the life of a great Navy SEAL who went beyond the call of duty and risked everything to do what he believed was right, individuality within the collective, cohesively functioning as one.
Made the most of the worst possible situation.
Persevered.
It's not about politics or asking questions, it's about the people who risked their lives fighting for a cause they believed in, incendiary polemics aside, they were on the ground, fighting an enemy intent on killing them, living through events that would haunt the survivors for the rest of their lives, experiential extracurricular extents, forging bonds through action, teams, through combat.
It's focused on one sniper in particular, Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), with a gift for precision, an eye for detail.
He becomes a legend.
A part of a team, embracing his role as protector, he saves the lives of his fellow recruits time and time again, through vigilance and dedication, making decisions no one should have to make, accepting the consequences, psychologically covering up the outcomes.
Civilian life becomes difficult.
He leaves unfinished business in Iraq, a nemesis at large, who continues to hunt his compatriots, this unnerves him as he tries to live with his family, überconscious conscience, the fall out of his exceptional track record.
Which leads to an exciting Young Guns sequence.
A compelling cinematic interpretation of levelheaded battlegrounded hysteria.
Direct, straightforward, and to the point, while mixing in enough trauma to unsettlingly exfoliate, American Sniper brings together eclectic teams, unified through bitter shattering circumstances.
What actually took place is fictionalized to the point where it makes a strong war film, however, this aspect of its creation makes what actually took place seem fictional, which takes away from its realistic impacts.
But it still salutes the life of a great Navy SEAL who went beyond the call of duty and risked everything to do what he believed was right, individuality within the collective, cohesively functioning as one.
Made the most of the worst possible situation.
Persevered.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Whiplash
Worst case scenario.
From my point of view anyways.
The drill sergeant teacher, militaristic jazz, believing that greatness can be cultivated using cruel ruthless humiliating tactics which psychologically destroy while potentially diversifying.
If you can take it.
If you don't break down as he viciously insults you and contentedly rips you to shreds.
This guy's brutal, a true Full Metal Jacket.
Thoroughly versed in the dark side, he finds an historical example where callous pedagogical shocks produce skills beyond exception, and then tries to recreate the soul crushing circumstances which harshly brought about the virtuosities, not taking into account the uniqueness of the situation, the educational, demographic, individual, historical, and social characteristics at play, difference exploited as a means to oppress rather than a factor to be conceptualized, music isn't war, you're trying to elevate not conquer, you have to push to succeed but you can push without pulverizing, excel without collapsing, although there are people who need the drill sergeant, I simply never understood why.
Was lucky in school. Never ran into teachers like this. I can't function in such environments, just shut down and suffer, can barely think.
Long time since I've been in one.
Whiplash is about a young drummer attending Shaffer Conservatory who is given the opportunity to play in their premier ensemble, and chooses to find a way to become part of its core.
The teacher uses despicable methods which lead to improvements but his heavy hand is too much for the 19 year-old to take.
Bad decisions.
Pushed too hard.
He does excel though and is given the chance to say fuck rather than thank you eventually.
A well-casted examination of emotionally disturbing teaching methods and their outcomes, Whiplash's unquestionable villain sacrifices balance for beatification.
Hoping to nurture sheer brilliance.
Clucking malevolently in the abyss.
From my point of view anyways.
The drill sergeant teacher, militaristic jazz, believing that greatness can be cultivated using cruel ruthless humiliating tactics which psychologically destroy while potentially diversifying.
If you can take it.
If you don't break down as he viciously insults you and contentedly rips you to shreds.
This guy's brutal, a true Full Metal Jacket.
Thoroughly versed in the dark side, he finds an historical example where callous pedagogical shocks produce skills beyond exception, and then tries to recreate the soul crushing circumstances which harshly brought about the virtuosities, not taking into account the uniqueness of the situation, the educational, demographic, individual, historical, and social characteristics at play, difference exploited as a means to oppress rather than a factor to be conceptualized, music isn't war, you're trying to elevate not conquer, you have to push to succeed but you can push without pulverizing, excel without collapsing, although there are people who need the drill sergeant, I simply never understood why.
Was lucky in school. Never ran into teachers like this. I can't function in such environments, just shut down and suffer, can barely think.
Long time since I've been in one.
Whiplash is about a young drummer attending Shaffer Conservatory who is given the opportunity to play in their premier ensemble, and chooses to find a way to become part of its core.
The teacher uses despicable methods which lead to improvements but his heavy hand is too much for the 19 year-old to take.
Bad decisions.
Pushed too hard.
He does excel though and is given the chance to say fuck rather than thank you eventually.
A well-casted examination of emotionally disturbing teaching methods and their outcomes, Whiplash's unquestionable villain sacrifices balance for beatification.
Hoping to nurture sheer brilliance.
Clucking malevolently in the abyss.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Selma
Slow moving change.
Sometimes change does move too slowly.
Sometimes mind-bogglingly frustrating bureaucratic 'efficiencies' prevent the advancement of basic civil rights, in Selma's case, the right for African American citizens to vote in the States, in the Southern States, in the 1960s, Alabama particularly.
They have the legal right to vote, but the caucasian population who controls the voter registry comes up with ridiculous loophole after ridiculous loophole to prevent them from actually voting, to make seeking the right to vote seem debased and futile, insert various humiliations.
Obviously this is unacceptable, and leaders emerge to change things, not twenty years from now, but in the near future, Martin Luther King Jr. (David Oyelowo) actively advocating for peaceful non-violent change, for peaceful non-violent dignity.
Selma's best moments feature King in action, delivering powerful speeches which motivate his listeners, debating strategy with his fellow activists, discussing tactics with his devoted wife Coretta (Carmen Ejogo), or holding firm to his principles when upholding them with President Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson).
His goals are immediate and necessary, making compromise an untenable option.
The film presents a basic opposition between progress and stagnation, those standing by the status quo appearing backwards and simplistic, those hungering for change, thoughtful and brave.
Johnson's character does change after the violence reaches outrageous heights and the protests continue.
It's still going on.
In light of the Ferguson tragedy, and several other recent disillusioning American tragedies which have deeply affected African American communities, Selma historicizes the present, to encourage an impregnable sense of unity.
There should be accountability when unarmed people are shot dead.
It doesn't have to be about white versus black, it can be about different groups working communally to forge strong integrated multidimensional secularly spiritual pluralities, strength in diversity, acculturating as one.
It's about simple acts of kindness and the acceptance of alternative points of view.
If the U.S. is the most advanced country in the world, why does it still have these problems?
Why are they persisting?
Generation after generation.
Sometimes change does move too slowly.
Sometimes mind-bogglingly frustrating bureaucratic 'efficiencies' prevent the advancement of basic civil rights, in Selma's case, the right for African American citizens to vote in the States, in the Southern States, in the 1960s, Alabama particularly.
They have the legal right to vote, but the caucasian population who controls the voter registry comes up with ridiculous loophole after ridiculous loophole to prevent them from actually voting, to make seeking the right to vote seem debased and futile, insert various humiliations.
Obviously this is unacceptable, and leaders emerge to change things, not twenty years from now, but in the near future, Martin Luther King Jr. (David Oyelowo) actively advocating for peaceful non-violent change, for peaceful non-violent dignity.
Selma's best moments feature King in action, delivering powerful speeches which motivate his listeners, debating strategy with his fellow activists, discussing tactics with his devoted wife Coretta (Carmen Ejogo), or holding firm to his principles when upholding them with President Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson).
His goals are immediate and necessary, making compromise an untenable option.
The film presents a basic opposition between progress and stagnation, those standing by the status quo appearing backwards and simplistic, those hungering for change, thoughtful and brave.
Johnson's character does change after the violence reaches outrageous heights and the protests continue.
It's still going on.
In light of the Ferguson tragedy, and several other recent disillusioning American tragedies which have deeply affected African American communities, Selma historicizes the present, to encourage an impregnable sense of unity.
There should be accountability when unarmed people are shot dead.
It doesn't have to be about white versus black, it can be about different groups working communally to forge strong integrated multidimensional secularly spiritual pluralities, strength in diversity, acculturating as one.
It's about simple acts of kindness and the acceptance of alternative points of view.
If the U.S. is the most advanced country in the world, why does it still have these problems?
Why are they persisting?
Generation after generation.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Inherent Vice
Blistering pronounced enigmatic athleticism, neat and tidy obscurity, a question asked, a question, answered, competing forms of non-traditional rationalities searching for clues within a down and dirty faceless salute to comic cerebral lechery, with role playing, familiarity, pop-ups, explanations, free form investigative hallucinogenic heartache, golden plunders, an error, bows and arrows, cameolot, freewheeling receptive improvised incognitos, purpose, demand, facts and fictions fused to fornicate, to love, the ether, groundless fluctuating intuitive forward motion, possessed, indecisive, a partnership, sympathy, acquiring a foothold, intransigent brawn, a narrator's clarifications, grinding and gone.
Far gone.
It seems that America's great directors must now hear the call of the The Big Lebowski's pastiche of The Big Sleep to make misguided judgment hedonistically live again.
Insert pot smoke into the underground world of high-stakes narcotic reality.
Remain calm.
React.
It's more about potential and theory, ideas, than plot, although the plot is astounding.
Difficult to say if the events depicted are actually taking place or simply expiring in an exposed hemorrhaged zig-zagged amphetamine.
I didn't see any evidence for this however.
The cast reminded me of that which you often find in feel good comedies, Eric Roberts (Michael Z. Wolfmann) filling in for Sam J. Jones or Billy Idol.
Martin Short's (Dr. Rudy Blatnoyd, D.D.S.) still got it.
I'm buying some absinthe.
Far gone.
It seems that America's great directors must now hear the call of the The Big Lebowski's pastiche of The Big Sleep to make misguided judgment hedonistically live again.
Insert pot smoke into the underground world of high-stakes narcotic reality.
Remain calm.
React.
It's more about potential and theory, ideas, than plot, although the plot is astounding.
Difficult to say if the events depicted are actually taking place or simply expiring in an exposed hemorrhaged zig-zagged amphetamine.
I didn't see any evidence for this however.
The cast reminded me of that which you often find in feel good comedies, Eric Roberts (Michael Z. Wolfmann) filling in for Sam J. Jones or Billy Idol.
Martin Short's (Dr. Rudy Blatnoyd, D.D.S.) still got it.
I'm buying some absinthe.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
The Imitation Game
A mind unlike any other, with an idea, a vision, confidently clad in driven unyielding pertinence, searing arrogant genius, applied to teamwork, to working as a team, to theorize, to crack codes, to imagine an immaculately mechanized gaseous maelstrom, sucking in cyphers then spitting out circumstances, World War II's oppressing destruction caught in its construct like visceral vacuumed variability, results producing tactics which serve to plan, to strategize daily essential outputs affecting lives and the people who live them, the soul crushing realities of life and death logic, covertly consensualized, as spiralling boisterous bedlam.
To suffer in ecstasy.
And win the war.
The Imitation Game celebrates unprecedented advances in theoretical practicalities, adding humanistic plights to the achievement of goals, balance and structure within the hierarchy, competing authoritative conceptions, managing the exceptional's zeal.
Creation's credibility.
Love's unacknowledged blush.
It's about a brilliant mathematician who creates an apparatus that cracks Nazi Germany's enigma machine.
Beyond tragedy, what eventually takes place, difficult to think that so many incredible leaps forward have been squashed in their infancy by culturally accepted prejudices, suffocatingly husking hopes and dreams.
Futures.
From Black Bear Pictures.
To suffer in ecstasy.
And win the war.
The Imitation Game celebrates unprecedented advances in theoretical practicalities, adding humanistic plights to the achievement of goals, balance and structure within the hierarchy, competing authoritative conceptions, managing the exceptional's zeal.
Creation's credibility.
Love's unacknowledged blush.
It's about a brilliant mathematician who creates an apparatus that cracks Nazi Germany's enigma machine.
Beyond tragedy, what eventually takes place, difficult to think that so many incredible leaps forward have been squashed in their infancy by culturally accepted prejudices, suffocatingly husking hopes and dreams.
Futures.
From Black Bear Pictures.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Into the Woods
Intersecting adventurous clips, securely stashed in a spell; wandering blindly baffling blips, serving to cast off a shell.
The forest provides what the hapless surrenders, riddle me opaque bouquets.
Paths intertwining, confidence rendered, lushly air brushing the haze.
The narrator holds things together.
It's not to be taken seriously, Into the Woods, according to his unconcerned tone, as if, even though the events that take place have paramount repercussions, love, happiness, giants, they're still simply banal and insignificant.
This aspect is captured in the film's focus on preparation as opposed to orchestration, apart from the accumulation of necessities, the land of the giants remaining overtly off limits, the balls Cinderella (Anna Kendrick) attends, never actively showcased.
Brilliant way to save money.
It also explains how easily the Baker (James Corden) and his wife (Emily Blunt) acquire the bizarre knick-knacks they must find, the humdrum coronation of the fantastical, realistically equipped with sensation.
The songs are kind of fun.
Evil is punished, good natures, rewarded.
It wasn't enough to keep me captivated, although I did revel in its mischief.
The middle-class finds salvation.
Paths lined with embowering gold.
The forest provides what the hapless surrenders, riddle me opaque bouquets.
Paths intertwining, confidence rendered, lushly air brushing the haze.
The narrator holds things together.
It's not to be taken seriously, Into the Woods, according to his unconcerned tone, as if, even though the events that take place have paramount repercussions, love, happiness, giants, they're still simply banal and insignificant.
This aspect is captured in the film's focus on preparation as opposed to orchestration, apart from the accumulation of necessities, the land of the giants remaining overtly off limits, the balls Cinderella (Anna Kendrick) attends, never actively showcased.
Brilliant way to save money.
It also explains how easily the Baker (James Corden) and his wife (Emily Blunt) acquire the bizarre knick-knacks they must find, the humdrum coronation of the fantastical, realistically equipped with sensation.
The songs are kind of fun.
Evil is punished, good natures, rewarded.
It wasn't enough to keep me captivated, although I did revel in its mischief.
The middle-class finds salvation.
Paths lined with embowering gold.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Big Eyes
Isolated freedom, revelling in its independence yet struggling with domestic determinants, a husband left behind, another guaranteeing affluence, the domain of patriarchy, one gender controlling, uplifting as it suffocates, a deal is begrudgingly struck, the wife possessing talent, the husband seductive salespersonship, his greed stretching beyond the limits of the financial, his oppression, firm and resolute.
Lies.
Nothing but lies.
Desperate for the prestige yet unable to qualify its conviction.
In terms of actually creating his own texts.
Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) produces them regularly, changing and growing over time, a specific insight blossoming in the bower, dedicated, talented, active.
Walter Keane (Christoph Waltz) sells them as his own.
The critical art versus kitsch continuum actualizes the scene as recognition leads to expansion, as opportunity pluralizes the popular.
Do what you do well I say.
If Margaret had wanted to stay in the background, the situation would have been perfect, a fortune made, the strengths of both partners flourishing, a pool, a house, mutual agreement, not bad, if it's agreed upon beforehand, and artfully managed with subtle praiseworthy comments here and there, in various conversations, socially constructing a contradictory narrative, intriguing in its gentile playfulness, if time changes the nature of the agreement, and credit need be applied where credit's due.
No such agreements.
No such amendments.
Don't freak when the critics don't like you.
There are myriad critics, myriad points of view, myriad methodologies, myriad revelations, extract relevant insights that can help you grow from those who aren't malicious, pretend like it's all nonsense, onwards.
This is where liking sports comes in handy.
In the NFL, you can be one of the greatest players of all time, but you'll still be torn up if you have a bad game, you can't let it get to you, the opposition's fierce, prepare for the next game, let it go, let it go.
Walter turns out to be incorrigible, trying to take all the credit for his wife's work, but she embodies true integrity, leaves the luxury behind, and starts from scratch again.
I liked the film and was impressed that Tim Burton wasn't directing another remake.
I think he still has another Beetlejuice within, I watched it again recently, I love that film.
Like Margaret's work, Big Eyes is accessible and witty, charmingly plucking its heartstrings, multidimensionally navigating cultural tributaries.
Nice to see Jon Polito (Enrico Banducci).
And Mr. Terence Stamp (John Canaday).
Lies.
Nothing but lies.
Desperate for the prestige yet unable to qualify its conviction.
In terms of actually creating his own texts.
Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) produces them regularly, changing and growing over time, a specific insight blossoming in the bower, dedicated, talented, active.
Walter Keane (Christoph Waltz) sells them as his own.
The critical art versus kitsch continuum actualizes the scene as recognition leads to expansion, as opportunity pluralizes the popular.
Do what you do well I say.
If Margaret had wanted to stay in the background, the situation would have been perfect, a fortune made, the strengths of both partners flourishing, a pool, a house, mutual agreement, not bad, if it's agreed upon beforehand, and artfully managed with subtle praiseworthy comments here and there, in various conversations, socially constructing a contradictory narrative, intriguing in its gentile playfulness, if time changes the nature of the agreement, and credit need be applied where credit's due.
No such agreements.
No such amendments.
Don't freak when the critics don't like you.
There are myriad critics, myriad points of view, myriad methodologies, myriad revelations, extract relevant insights that can help you grow from those who aren't malicious, pretend like it's all nonsense, onwards.
This is where liking sports comes in handy.
In the NFL, you can be one of the greatest players of all time, but you'll still be torn up if you have a bad game, you can't let it get to you, the opposition's fierce, prepare for the next game, let it go, let it go.
Walter turns out to be incorrigible, trying to take all the credit for his wife's work, but she embodies true integrity, leaves the luxury behind, and starts from scratch again.
I liked the film and was impressed that Tim Burton wasn't directing another remake.
I think he still has another Beetlejuice within, I watched it again recently, I love that film.
Like Margaret's work, Big Eyes is accessible and witty, charmingly plucking its heartstrings, multidimensionally navigating cultural tributaries.
Nice to see Jon Polito (Enrico Banducci).
And Mr. Terence Stamp (John Canaday).
Friday, January 2, 2015
The Man in the White Suit
There's a timeless quality to Alexander Mackendrick's The Man in the White Suit(1951).
Its examination of capital and labour faced with the advance of progress has transferrable applications for any historical epoch.
It's fun to watch too.
A scientist within, Sidney Stratton (Alec Guinness), takes constant risks to develop an indestructible cloth that can't be stained, thereby revolutionizing the textile industry.
The owner of the company he works for is initially impressed, until his competitors note that Stratton's breakthrough will put them out of business, costing the British economy thousands of jobs.
It's a control issue.
Labour hears the news as well and recognizes their precarious position within the new marketable leap forward.
Heads contentiously clash until labour and capital realize they seek the same ends, proceeding thereafter to suppress Mr. Stratton as he tries to move forward with his discovery.
He doesn't realize the impacts of what he's doing until he accidentally bumps into an elderly person in the street, as he's on the run, laundry, the subject of conversation.
It's a compelling study of beginnings, of panic, in this instance, mixed with diverse voices from multiple stakeholders, and several unexpected serendipitous scintillations, the naive and the nepotists, the powerful, and the hungry.
Made me think of the Who Killed the Electric Car? film.
And baby steps.
I always thought that if you were making trillions of dollars from a non-renewable resource, you would spend some of that money on creating independent infrastructures to sustain local economies, if the resource happened to run out.
Future minded thinking.
You see this in the ways infrastructures are developing at the métro stations in Laval anyways, which are equipped with spots where you can park and rejuice your electric car.
Perhaps, as sales of electric cars (which are making a comeback), or hydrogen-fuelled vehicles, increase, petrol service stations will begin to proportionally offer a variety of services for them in order to manage profit fluctuations and keep their workforces employed.
Factories which manufacture cars fuelled by gasoline can switch to harnessing the power of electricity.
Slow moving change, linked directly to increased demand.
Rather than exclusively searching for new oil deposits, the focus could partially switch to finding new sources of electric power, in remote regions, while respecting local traditions, to supply the necessary increases in hydro-electric energy.
If the independent infrastructures are in place, the panic is slowly mitigated over time, and if you have 100 years and ample capital and labour to create them, civil unrest could be minimized.
A lot of people will still be mighty pissed-off however.
They may be upset if they find out they have cancer too.
This option could lead to a much cleaner environment.
A much healthier planet, more sustainable, in the fortunes of time.
Its examination of capital and labour faced with the advance of progress has transferrable applications for any historical epoch.
It's fun to watch too.
A scientist within, Sidney Stratton (Alec Guinness), takes constant risks to develop an indestructible cloth that can't be stained, thereby revolutionizing the textile industry.
The owner of the company he works for is initially impressed, until his competitors note that Stratton's breakthrough will put them out of business, costing the British economy thousands of jobs.
It's a control issue.
Labour hears the news as well and recognizes their precarious position within the new marketable leap forward.
Heads contentiously clash until labour and capital realize they seek the same ends, proceeding thereafter to suppress Mr. Stratton as he tries to move forward with his discovery.
He doesn't realize the impacts of what he's doing until he accidentally bumps into an elderly person in the street, as he's on the run, laundry, the subject of conversation.
It's a compelling study of beginnings, of panic, in this instance, mixed with diverse voices from multiple stakeholders, and several unexpected serendipitous scintillations, the naive and the nepotists, the powerful, and the hungry.
Made me think of the Who Killed the Electric Car? film.
And baby steps.
I always thought that if you were making trillions of dollars from a non-renewable resource, you would spend some of that money on creating independent infrastructures to sustain local economies, if the resource happened to run out.
Future minded thinking.
You see this in the ways infrastructures are developing at the métro stations in Laval anyways, which are equipped with spots where you can park and rejuice your electric car.
Perhaps, as sales of electric cars (which are making a comeback), or hydrogen-fuelled vehicles, increase, petrol service stations will begin to proportionally offer a variety of services for them in order to manage profit fluctuations and keep their workforces employed.
Factories which manufacture cars fuelled by gasoline can switch to harnessing the power of electricity.
Slow moving change, linked directly to increased demand.
Rather than exclusively searching for new oil deposits, the focus could partially switch to finding new sources of electric power, in remote regions, while respecting local traditions, to supply the necessary increases in hydro-electric energy.
If the independent infrastructures are in place, the panic is slowly mitigated over time, and if you have 100 years and ample capital and labour to create them, civil unrest could be minimized.
A lot of people will still be mighty pissed-off however.
They may be upset if they find out they have cancer too.
This option could lead to a much cleaner environment.
A much healthier planet, more sustainable, in the fortunes of time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)