Venus Dreaming

venusprojectNow this is the stuff of my childhood dreams.  When my imagination was still unbounded and unfettered by the burdens of reality and the skepticism of age I dreamed of molding and forming society like play-dough.  The Venus Project, the brain child of Jacque Fresco, is doing just that.  This is the luxury of genius at its best.  Even at first glance I can recognize the science fiction novels I have read that have been influenced by this stuff.

But is all of this just modernist, Jean-Luc Picard type thinking that is already being supplanted by the post modern sense of relativist spirituality?

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Empty House Syndrome

hobo-block-partyWhat do you do when your house is worth less than nothing?  Zoned improperly for farm stock and wild animals won’t bed there?  Last week I made a review of a study done in the UK titled, “New Tricks with Old Bricks.”  I mused then that the most interesting question that the study brought up was how we can make good use of empty homes.  The census numbers on empty homes are a little misleading and not the most helpful for determining which ones have simply been abandoned.  But, the percentage for the first quarter of 2009, 2.9%, is the highest quarterly percentage since 1956.  For me that sufficiently says that there is a real problem out there with homes deemed worse than worthless by the market.

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Over Forty Years Later and Still Paying

Feeling pretty isolated from the current recession out here in Salt Lake City, I’ve decided to track some of the goings on in Detroit.  I have a mild connection with the area after dating a girl during high school and college from Grosse Pointe.  I will never forget my first day driving around the metro area.  As a country kid from Texas I couldn’t even comprehend most of what I was seeing.  I remember pulling up to a red light in my 1984 Volvo 244 DL with all the windows rolled down and my shirt off. (No air conditioning you know.)  Of course I was wearing a red bandana wrapped around my head to keep my long hair out of my face while the wind whipped through my windows.  This was the summer of 1993.

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