Articles by Kit Stolz

Americans reduce gas consumption as prices continue to rise

Shocked by high gas prices? You're not alone: according to the lead story in today's Los Angeles Times, prices are at a record high.

The gravity-defying price of oil shot through another barrier Monday by briefly touching $103.95 a barrel in New York trading, the highest cost ever for black gold even after adjusting for inflation.

But the experts say it's not so much a rise in demand that is pushing up the cost, but a fall in the value of the dollar.

"I don't think it's a coincidence that the price of oil hits an all-time high around the time that the dollar hits an all-time low against the euro," said Ken Medlock, an energy studies fellow at Rice University's Baker Institute. "The amount of dollars you have to give up for a barrel of oil is going to increase because the dollar is purchasing less and less."

In response, according to an excellent story in Monday's Wall Street Journal, Americans have at last began to turn against gasoline.

Is There Will Be Blood a dramatization of peak oil?

In the realm of art, no interpretation of a work can be final, but intriguing hints from no less than writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson suggest that the stunning movie There Will Be Blood is actually a story not about the rise and fall of a man so much as the rise and fall of a commodity: oil.

Of course, even the intentions of the creators -- and in the case of There Will Be Blood, that means principally writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson, star Daniel Day-Lewis, cinematographer Robert Elswit, and composer Jonny Greenwood -- don't necessarily prove anything. (After all, Anderson revealed in one interview that he "had no idea what we were doing" until he heard Greenwood's revelatory score.)

But consider what Anderson said in an interview bout the movie with Terry Gross:

We all know what has happened with oil, don't we? We all know the end of the story. It's a bit like Titanic, we all know the boat sinks. The fun of the story is watching how we get there.

Or what he said in an interview with Charlie Rose, in reference to the oil industry's recent fortunes:

I haven't been living in a bubble for the last six years.

Or what the great music critic Alex Ross said of the score in The New Yorker:

Greenwood, too, writes the music of an injured Earth; if the smeared string glissandos on the soundtrack suggest liquid welling up from underground, the accompanying dissonances communicate a kind of interior, inanimate pain. The cellos cry out most wrenchingly when Plainview scratches his name on a claim, preparing to bleed the land.

Too literal an interpretation of what Anderson described to Charlie Rose as "a great boxing match" between the two of the most powerful forces in recent American history -- evangelical religion and the oil industry -- would be pointless.

But when it comes to the controversial ending, we have to consider the possibility that this story is not about an individual, or even an industry. We have no choice, really, because it's only in this context that the finale makes sense.

***SPOILER ALERT*** For those who have seen the movie, or who have no intention seeing the movie but still want to consider the idea, please read on.

A poet takes the measure of Portland — on foot

Starting early this century, poet and professor David Oates set out to walk the boundary line that Oregon drew around the city of Portland decades ago to concentrate its development and discourage sprawl. What is today called "the New Urbanism" is not new in Portland: it's been part of the political process since l973.

As Oates writes in a forward to a book he recently published about his adopted state's experiment in urban utopianism:

We hope to grow in, and in some places, up. To get richer in connections and cleverness -- to get deeper -- instead of wider, flatter, and shallower.

That simplicity of language and depth of thought is part of the charm of City Limits: Walking Portland's Boundary. Like Thoreau, to whom Oates alludes in his first chapter -- titled "Where I Walked, What I Walked For" -- Oates has a knack for linking a bold action, such as walking over 250 miles around the city, to a self-deprecating description.

Oates lightly mocks himself for getting lost, for his fear of dog attacks in redneck neighborhoods, and even for his own occasional tendency to stereotype people. This willingness to reveal his flaws helps the reader trust Oates' discussion of the issues raised by Portland's boundary (known as the UGB, or Urban Growth Boundary). Oates also dares include in his book brief essays from others, including philosopher/writer Kathleen Deen Moore and winemaker Eric Lemelson, as well as a planner, a landscape architect, and even a developer -- the sort of voices not usually heard in "environmental" books.

Most surprising of all, on his walks Oates occasionally encounters legendary figures -- such as John Muir, Paul Shepherd, Italo Calvino -- who just happen to have inspired Oates. These ghostly figures turn out to be quite chatty, and yet utterly themselves, giving the book a jolt of originality to match its open-mindedness. Each encounter with these ghosts has a wistful quality; one can tell that Oates hates to see them go.

Calvino especially inspires, with his discussion of the city of the labyrinthian spiral, the city of multiple desires, the city "that fades before your eyes," he tells Oates. "Like all of Portland's inhabitants, you follow zigzag lines from one street to another ... all the rest of the city is invisible. Your footsteps follow not what is outside the eyes, but what is within, buried, erased."

It's a wonderful, original, eye-opening book. Although sometimes the multiple introductions and voices give it a patchwork quilt quality, in the end the book resembles the city Oates obviously adores: vibrantly alive, defiantly progressive, fearlessly contentious. For Grist, Oates kindly agreed to answer a few questions about Portland and its attempts to control its development:

Even Republicans will have to acknowledge global warming in the presidential race

In a report for "The Campaign Spot" on the National Review, Jim Geraghty gently broke the bad news to conservatives that yes, global warming will be an issue in the 2008 campaign, and the Republican party will concede the time has now come to act to reduce the risks.

To make his case, first Geraghty gave the mic to a fire-breathing Giuliani supporter named Robert Tracinski, who declared for Real Clear Politics:

But the biggest problem for Republicans with McCain's candidacy is his stance on global warming. McCain has been an active supporter of the global warming hysteria -- for which he has been lauded by the radical environmentalists -- and he is a co-sponsor of a leftist scheme for energy rationing. The McCain-Lieberman Climate Stewardship Actwould impose an arbitrary cap on America's main sources of energy production, to be enforced by a huge network of federal taxes and regulations.

The irony is that McCain won in South Carolina among voters whose top concern is the economy. Don't these voters realize what a whole new regime of energy taxes and regulations would do to the economy?

No matter what happens, there is likely to be a huge debate in the coming years over global warming -- whether it's really happening, whether it's actually caused by human beings, and what to do about it. But if the Republicans nominate McCain, that political debate will be over, and Al Gore and the left will have won it -- thanks to John McCain.

Geraghty let that stand, thinking others would agree with him that it was an extreme statement. He went on to try and reason with the NR crowd: