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The Emperial View.

Breaking the Strangle Hold of OPEC

This is a comment to a radio program I heard yesterday on the American Family Assoc. station. The announcers were mirroring some of the politicians’ song and dance about drilling for more oil to solve all our energy problems. There are a few problems with this proposition though. For one, the Presidents’ own team says it would take a minimum of 7 years to see one drop from any new drilling. And, more US drilling doesn’t even address the real problem. That is, OPEC controls 3/4 of the world’s reserves. 30 years ago, they were producing 30 million barrels a day, and now they’re producing 32 million barrels a day. This simply means that they control the supply. So, we can drill all we want, but the fact remains we don’t have nearly enough anywhere in the US to sustain our demand, and OPEC will continue to control the world’s supply. Table salt used to be a strategic commodity like oil is today. Wars were fought over salt because it was needed as a preservative. Well, technology brought us refrigeration, canning, and preservatives; and now salt has been reduced to something you throw over your shoulder. This is what we need in the energy industry-competition. And, since only 2% of our daily oil consumption goes toward producing electricity, we should focus on the real issue and that’s the other 98% being consumed in the transportation sector. That’s why alternative fuels are crucial to introduce competition in the market. And, that technology is available now. 90% of the vehicles sold by GM in South America are flex fuel and use methanol made from sugar cane as fuel. Also, sugar cane as well as corn can be produced in most of the 3rd world countries and give those people a commodity to use to better their lives. So, it just seems like a good idea to loosen the strangle hold of OPEC by introducing competition in the market. In just the last few years with the increases in the price of oil, we’re sending an extra billion dollars a day to the people who want to destroy us. Doesn’t that just seem crazy? So, why don’t we just do like South America and use more alternative fuels and flex fuel vehicles? Well, corn isn’t as efficient as sugar cane, and we pay twice as much as the rest of the world does for sugar. And, most everything in the US is sweetened with corn (corn syrup, corn starch, and dextrose), so the problem with straining that supply makes most of our food products go up in price. But, that may be the price we have to pay to gain our independence. That, and dropping the import tax on sugar so it would be cheaper and used along with corn. So, we all need to tell our politicians that we want to loosen the strangle hold that OPEC has on us, and once again stand for independence. That we want to stop subsidizing big oil, and invest in our future. I mean, by all accounts, there’s only 80 years worth of oil left on this planet. So, we have to do something, anyway. Because the price can only continue to go up as the supply runs out.     
 

Mike Dalton

My Website Update

I’ve been working hard updating my website. Check it out at mikedaltonphotography.com

Daddy’s Obituary

        A husband, father, grandfather, and friend has passed. Edgar B. Dalton was a good man, and a faithful servant of the Lord, who will be forever remembered by his family, and friends. He was a man of Christ-like character, who devoted his life to the service of his church, his country, and to his family. He served his country during World War 2, when he left college to join the US Army Air Corp. He served in China until the end of the war, and then returned to college where he devoted himself to his faith. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Divinity at Mercer University in Macon, GA. Then, earned his Masters of Divinity at Golden Gate Seminary in San Francisco. When Edgar, and Joyce H. Dalton wed in 1966, they settled at his childhood home in DeSoto, GA where he as a rural letter carrier, and part-time minister, and she as a schoolteacher, managed to raise 5 children, and 9 grandchildren. He was a kind-hearted, and good-natured man who never met a stranger. And, he will be truly missed by those who knew him as Daddy, and friend. Well done good, and faithful servant.

Into the Night-a poem

Into, into, into the night

I dare to escape, dare to take flight

Worlds stand with me, and worlds stand against

The following of my heart, and the feelings that I’ve sensed

So, naked now, I plunge into the deep

To realize my destiny, which till now has been asleep

Pray do I, that I fall not very long

Before Cupid arrives, to sing you this song

And, gives to your soul, a discerning kind of ear

So, that through the clamor, you’ll be able to hear

The sound of my desire, that we become as one

And, live forever in bliss, until our days are done

My Hurricane Katrina Experience

Three days after Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, I was watching the events as they unfolded on television in horror. I remember seeing a woman in Mississippi who had been living on her front porch for days with no food or water. I just couldn’t bear it anymore, so I began making phone calls to let people know that I was going there and asking them for their help in collecting relief goods. It didn’t take very long and I had a van loaded with food, clothing, and medical supplies. So, against the advice of some and with no particular place to go, I headed for the Gulf Coast to deliver these things to whomever I could find that needed them most.                                                                                              

 Along the way, I contacted some old friends that lived just south of Mobile, AL who offered me a place to stay as well as assured me that the need for my goods was great in their area. They told me that the Mobile Bay had been devastated too, but just not getting covered in the media like New Orleans. They also told me that a lot of people were being brought there from all over the Gulf region who had lost everything and could surely use whatever I was bringing. I decided that this was my fate and the place where I needed to go.                                                                                                                                                    

The next day, my friend who had put me up, Ricky Johnson, and I drove the van to a shelter we heard was just opening at a local church. I can’t put into words the eerie feeling I got walking in past the armed National Guard into that shelter filled with people who had been bused there from Jefferson County and had no other place to go. We met with the director who was happy to receive our provisions and thanked God for the people who had sent them. They weren’t sure if they could use all the medical supplies and asked if we could wait for the doctor who had volunteered her time to look them over. This gave Ricky and I an opportunity to talk with some of the victims. It was hard. Hard to see all those children. Hard to hear all those stories. Hard to watch people trying to locate their loved ones. Hard to be laughing with someone one minute and to see them in tears the next over the news they had just received. Hard to ask a lady I met named Miss Emma if she was from New Orleans and have her tell me, “Yes, I lost it all”.  Hard to understand how they could all feel so blessed just to be alive. Hard.

             When we left the shelter, we drove along the Alabama coastline. I had never seen anything like the destruction I saw there. Houses were just gone with nothing but the foundation left. Boats were hanging in trees. Whole parking lots were missing. I met a couple there that was picking up the pieces. The pieces of their house, the pieces of their car, the pieces of their life. Though they were saddened to have lost all of their heirlooms, their thoughts were with those who had lost much more–their life.

            On the way back home, I had a lot of time to think about the new perspective I had gained through the experience. I began to realize that we get too caught-up in our individual microcosms. That we seek acceptance through an inward way of thinking. That we feel ok because we live in the right place, go to the right school, or are members of the right family. But, I see now that much more can be gained by realizing that we’re actually part of a greater macrocosm. And, that we would all benefit by seeking acceptance not by the right crowd, but as a productive member of the human race.

The Honduran Project

            Last year I was invited by a friend to join a group she was going with to Honduras. The aim of the group was to work in a remote village with a group of ladies that were making pottery to help them increase their sales in order to better their lives. I was invited because no one in the group had any pottery skills and my friend had touted me as an expert. There were many obstacles along the way, but in the end it was worth all the effort and more.

I was told that the ladies had been making pottery already, but it looked like something a child would produce. The feeling of the group was that if they were able to increase their skills, just a little, then they would be able to sell more of their work. The average income in the area is only about $400/year, so anything to help would make a huge impact on the quality of their lives. I agreed to go, but was very nervous about the whole project. That was mainly because I was no expert at all and had only taken two semesters of pottery making in college.                                                                                                When I got to the airport in Honduras, and met the rest of the group, my tension was not eased as I was introduced to them as the pottery expert and they all started chanting my name. We then rode a day and a half on a very bumpy bus to a ranch in the middle of nowhere that we used as our camp. The ride gave me plenty of time to reflect and wonder what in the world was I doing there. The only thing I knew to do at that point was pray and ask for guidance.

We arrived at the ranch, and I was somewhat relieved to see a workshop where a local mechanic worked on the ranch equipment. I thought if I could find something to make a potter’s wheel, then, that could be my answer. I searched around, but not being mechanically inclined, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. At dinner, I was fortunate enough to recruit a couple of guys in the group that were much more experienced in rigging things up. We found an old electric wheelchair in a dumpster, and believed that we were on to something. We hooked the motor up to the bus battery, and were relieved to find that it still worked.

The next day, I visited another group that was staying at the ranch and happened to be woodworkers. They kindly agreed to build a box that the wheelchair could rest sideways on, and to cut out some round pieces that we could use to place on the wheel to have a working area. We also needed a battery of our own to make it run, and a couple of ladies in that group agreed to drive me to the next town two hours away to purchase one along with the wiring we would need to make the whole thing work.

Finally, all the pieces were in place, and we delivered the wheel to the village the next day. All the people in the village came out to greet us, and were very curious about the wheel. We set it up under a tree, and I began to give a demonstration. Their faces lit-up when they saw me producing pieces in a matter of minutes, what would have normally taken them a week. I then gave the ladies who had been making pottery individual lessons, and they were so appreciative that they wanted to give me something in return. Almost in tears at their gesture, I told them what they owed me was to practice on the wheel and to thank God for making it all possible.

This they readily did, and the next day when we returned, found that the ladies had been up most of the night working with the wheel. They had produced some extraordinary pieces, and had increased the beauty of their work a hundred fold. The people in my group began buying their pottery immediately. Not out of pity, but because they really liked it. That day they sold out of everything they had made. The ladies told me, that it was more money than they had earned in six months. They were so uplifted because now they were able not only to put food on the table, but more importantly to them, to be able to send their children to school. It was rewarding beyond words to see how optimistic they had become about their future, and how appreciative they were. It just amazed me at how a simple wheel had made such an impact on their lives.