Light Brigade

If you're a casual reader of dim newspapers (SF Chron, LA Times, NY Times) you might have noticed stories of late touting the initiatives of twat neo-hippies fighting for a cause deemed important, namely light pollution.

The movement is "trying" (and I use that hated word with all the fey gusto it implies) to persuade municipalities to turn off their lights at night so that fickle citizenry can enjoy a night sky and all its wonders. A noble endeavor? Bullshit. Next to the UC Berkeley tree sitters, these douche nozzles are second on my list of most wanted.

I enjoy the lights of a city. Give me the western span of the Bay Bridge, and the Embarcadero's 4 horsemen all aglow on a winter's night, and I'll quote Yeats in your ear until you're orgasmic.

I live in this globe's quadrant because I can escape the glare by hopping on the 1 or 101 and get out of Dodge and see what the city-bound residents are missing. Call it Nature, call it The Environment, but please don't ask me to support your dumb cause when there are beers to drink it the perfectly lit garden.

When Emily and I are fed up with the crunchy scene in Santa Cruz, we head 6 miles out of town to the crap burg of Davenport, known for a cement factory and a gas station. It's a nothing place abutting the Pacific, and when I say nothing, dammit I mean nothing. Pull off any poorly lit exit and park, lean back on your windshield and see the beauty of it all; an infinity span of stars, white planets bursting, and the residue of a city's afterglow. It is special because it is distant. Rewards are for the travelers, not the home-bound fops.

One can get most of life's necessities delivered to the home; dry cleaning, DVDs, whores. I am fuck all against rewarding those who double bolt their doors and cower behind their wi-fi connectivity. You have earned nothing of Nature. I do not encourage you to get out; out there is my salvation, because I motor there for it, and I want it no other way.

Reward the bold. I'm still buying the first and last round in purgatory, and the barmaid knows my name. Seek and ye shall find.