Post by Alan SmitheePost by alvey"BRIGHT GREEN LIES dismantles the illusion of green technology in a bold
and shocking exposé, revealing the lies and fantastical thinking behind the
notion that solar, wind, electric cars, or green consumerism will save the
planet.
Who funded this movie, the oil industry? :-D
It's been said many times that there are devices that can reduce oil and
gas consumption but the patents keep getting shelved by the fuel companies.
stan meyer made an engine that runs on water but was poisoned before it
was made.
Last documentary offhand I recall with any salience was Herzog's among
Antarctica scientists. An aspect he had prepared from the perspective
of assortment of rag-tags and expatriates -- not everyone especially
would want to be lost at the ass-end of the world, although, given
they are -- with the common sense of being unwelcomed shared among
them, that the rest of humanity couldn't care one rat's ass less
whether they're to be an extinction event.
Besides, what's the purpose for filming what subjectively is within
sets of encompassing factuality to presentment quite ably, altogether
in written format? (Another documentary I didn't mention was early
English, 17th c. painting and an English response, rather lacking,
insofar a tawdry tale of courtly painter allied with a effete kingly
sort, lacking common grounds, who subsequently is disposed;-
continental affair of no less expressionism as Enlightenment.)
Shouldn't film portray qualities within the media of observances that
express themselves for hedging again verbosity in all their
explicitness? That an underlying intrigue may exist in that very
distinction for vagueness to surround comprehension, upon being
presented at some counterpoint of cultural acceptance among regqrds
more mundane, then, of occupancies we accept as a treadmill conveyor
belt of relegated factuality, until granted ascendancy by death's
Pearly Gates to be judged all the worthier.
Meanwhile, we're quite taken and fascinated with admiring how pretty,
pretty we observe ourselves in mirrors of carnival events staged for
escapism. In the house that does it with art for mirroring reality
or, obversely, reality art (abbreviated as the syndicated realityshow
of shockjockism)-- not as such one unknown, so quickly to have
offended if teasing reality unpleasantly;- yes, pedantic is the very
word, to this very day, for those of whom simply must watch what
cannot better be expressive of words, or a lost art for reading them
at an artificial imposition to discount twenty centuries prior,
largely constituting illiteracy for all but an oligarch.
How even could oil interests conceive to document, at twice a
sustainable output over projected extinction, seas already a sludge
awash and at a tip of petrochemical's exigencies? To disrespect the
notion that we cannot continue to please ourselves by racing to stop
at the very next red light, throwing beer cans full at one another in
an eruption of fisticuffs, as white-thighed thunderous pedestals to
their stuffed britches watch in ill-contained adulation for breeding
purposes. A clearer raison d'être why being the best we've got don't
get, apparently, nor never ever got nearly no better.