Fearing that any further delay might prevent their movement from having any meaningful impact, a consortium of leading conservationists confirmed Wednesday it is attempting to get a head start on preserving the planet Mars.
The newly formed group, known as the Redder Tomorrow Foundation, has reportedly begun fundraising, developing awareness campaigns, and crafting policy proposals, all with the aim of establishing safeguards to protect the natural beauty and delicate balance of the fourth planet from the sun. ...
According to sources, the Redder Tomorrow Foundation recently began setting targeted goals to ensure the preservation of Mars’ untouched terrain, noting that thousands of breathtaking geological formations—including numerous mile-wide craters, a cave located in the Tharsis bulge, and a large swath of the Olympia Undae dune fields—were facing imminent threats from development and industrialization. ...
Sources from the Redder Tomorrow Foundation confirmed that it has had no problem raising funds now that most donors to conservationist causes have realized their efforts on Earth are a lost cause.
... if Ol’ Wally Wood is growing hardwoods, he might get a cutting in once or maybe twice in a lifetime… Unless he inherited a stand of mature oak, and is replacing as he goes with sound forest management practices, Susan may be waiting for a long time to get a ring on her finger…
In order to gain insights into her loveless future, Susan should be comparing the growth rate of the stand of trees against interest rates. And with such low interest rates she should realize that Wally Wood will never pop the question!
Men have often been accused of being unromantic, and the reason most of us are this way is because, 90 percent of the time, any kind of grand romantic gesture on our part ends with the woman being utterly terrified. "Aw, that's so sweet! [Runs.]" I have serenaded women. I have purchased a single red rose on a first date (I planned a picnic; she brought a friend at the last second). I have made mixtapes. I have written bad poetry. You name the flesh-creeping romantic gesture, I have attempted it, only to see it end in catastrophic failure.
And I'm not alone. Witness now the poor souls who attempted to pull off some [...] "Cameron Crowe movie finale" action, only to have it go spectacularly awry. ...
It's my 8th-grade year, roughly 1998, and I have a MASSIVE crush on a girl named Abby. Abby was popular and pretty, and I was into the theater and had a bowl cut. As is so often the case with girls who are popular and pretty, Abby was on the girls soccer team. I was in the band. I played the clarinet.
One day, I decided I was going to attend one of her soccer games. My father, who I must stress did not stop me despite knowing my intent, drove me to the game and dropped me off. I hopped out of the car, clarinet case in tow, and walked to the field, full of the kind of confidence that can only come from sheer delusion.
I stand next to the bleachers, which were scattered with the few parents who could get off work by 4 p.m., and I put my clarinet together. By this point, I had been spotted. The girls knew I was there, and they knew why I was there. Abby wouldn't even look at me.
Even then, I figured what I had in mind would win her heart, because I thought real life was like the movies.
Right before the game was set to start, I began playing. Pep songs. On my clarinet. Accompanied by nothing but the inaudible sound of a collective sad empathy from the parents and utter mortification from the one girl I was trying to impress.
Needless to say, she didn't really speak to me after that until roughly our junior year of high school. Now, as adults, we live in the same large Southern town. According to Facebook, she's married to a lawyer. I bet he never played the clarinet for her.
Once again, we can blame the profit motive for much of the evil (i.e., attempted murder, environmental degradation) in the world. And, as for yesterday, once you pull a gun on someone I think you have already thrown it all away.
Cash is the most efficient gift, according to economists. Cash is also a terrible gift, according to economists. By guaranteeing that the recipient can buy exactly what she wants, you guarantee that the recipient will consider you an unemotional robot.
That's why the vast majority of economists in the University of Chicago's IGM poll said it's absurd to give cash to loved ones for the holidays. "In some cases," Steven Kaplan said, in a stirring defense for thoughtful gifts, "non-pecuniary [not cash-related] values are important."
Non-pecuniary values are important! I guess so. But can you imagine a more wooden explication of love? Can you imagine a more wooden explanation of anything? Just think of the Christmas card...
"This blog aims to look at more of the microeconomic ideas that can be used toward environmental ends. Bringing to bear a large quantity of external sources and articles, this blog presents a clear vision of what economic environmentalism can be."
Don't believe what they're saying
And allow me a quick moment to gush: ... The env-econ.net blog was more or less a lifeline in that period of my life, as it was one of the few ways I stayed plugged into the env. econ scene. -- Anonymous
... the Environmental Economics blog ... is now the default homepage on my browser (but then again, I guess I am a wonk -- a word I learned on the E.E. blog). That is a very nice service to the profession. -- Anonymous
"... I try and read the blog everyday and have pointed it out to other faculty who have their students read it for class. It is truly one of the best things in the blogosphere." -- Anonymous