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Lowering the Cost of Play

2008-11-19T13:00:00Z

In my living room sits a 32" LCD HDTV. I feel guilty every time I turn it on because I know how much energy the thing uses. Every night I turn it off, and not just stand-by, but OFF. It's the only device in my entertainment center that I turn off every night because it is the largest amongst the usual suspects identified as vampire devices.

At bedtime, when I turn the lights off, my entertainment center looks like something from the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind. At the very heart of all of those little LEDs are my gaming consoles. With a 7-month-old baby my time logged gaming is no longer measured in consecutive hours, but in 10 or 15-minute chunks. That means I don't have time to waste waiting for my consoles to boot, and then load a saved game. So I do what nearly half of all gamers do, I leave the console turned on. What I didn't know until today is that collectively gamers are logging 16 billion kilowatt hours per year. For a single gamer like me, that means that my console is burning more energy than my refrigerator - in fact, chances are it's using twice as much. And that TV I feel so guilty about? My console uses 2-3 times more energy.

In a new report called Lowering the Cost of Play NRDC outlines how I, and gamers everywhere, can change the way we use our consoles to save a little cash and 7 million tons of CO2 emissions every year. For a little perspective 7 million tons of CO2 emissions is about the same as the electricity use of 841,000 homes a year. The good news is that the steps are simple, and we can take them now.

The holidays are upon us, and that brings lots of extra time, and a host of new games. Before settling in for a marathon session with Fallout 3, take a few minutes to tweak your console, because being able to destroy your environment in a game shouldn't mean you have to destroy THE Environment in meatspace.

Is T. Boone selling you shinola, or something else?

2008-08-25T19:26:25Z

I grew up in Houston, Texas. Maybe that made me more susceptible than most to the romanticized idea of being a Texas oil man. At the age of 18, the same summer I graduated high school, I went to work for a family friend selling oil field supplies to oil companies in West Texas and Mexico. It was a dream job for me. I met some very wealthy men and heard stories about growing up dirt poor and making a fortune by pulling oil from otherwise worthless ground. Every year I went to the famed Offshore Technology Conference (OTC), where they would erect an offshore drilling rig in the parking lot of the Astrodome. The oil rig was just the start though, because oil companies offered helicopter rides onto the rig. Spending time with these men meant eating $80 steaks, wearing $300 Stetson cowboy hats, and in the case of the oil men from Mexico, riding in Suburbans retrofitted with bullet proof glass. In those formative years I jumped at the opportunity to sit with the Bush family at the ballpark to watch the Houston Astros, although I don’t think we ever exchanged a word other than hello.

No offense to my alma matter American University where I later earned my undergraduate degree, but I learned more in the 4 years working with oil men than I ever learned anywhere else in my life. I learned how to shake a man’s hand and look him in the eye. I learned how to make an honorable deal, and how to break that deal without losing an ounce of respect. I learned that for many business men, after family, money is the most important thing. I learned that you always have to listen very carefully to hear everything an oil man is telling you. And finally, I learned how to tell when someone is trying to sell you something other than the shinola you agreed to buy.

Very recently a west Texas oil man, T. Boone Pickens, has paid his way into the spot light. He is the very picture of the American oil man I imagined when I was younger. The accent and the cadence of his speech capture his audience instantly. The environmental community was captivated by Mr. Pickens when he said, in his first commercial regarding the oil crisis, “we can’t drill our way out.” Now, in Denver, during one of the most historic events of my lifetime, I am surrounded by some of the best environmental bloggers in the country. We bloggers pride ourselves in our independence and aversion to being co-opted by anyone, but guess who is a major sponsor here at the Big Tent? Mr. Pickens, has certainly made his presence known.

A couple of days ago, Mr. Pickens released his latest video and in opening lines he says, “I say drill, drill, drill.” The commercial has caused some buzz for sure, and the conversations about the value of the rest of the ad are varied. But here is what it boils down to – Mr. Pickens is a business man. His investments in the oil market are volatile, wind and natural gas are less susceptible to global market influences. Listen closely to his ads, he doesn’t want to get America off oil, just foreign oil. That’s it. Don’t let the pretty images of wind turbines fool you, and "clean natural gas" isn't as clean as you may think. Mr. Pickens is looking out for Mr. Pickens.

So while I admire Mr. Pickens for being a maverick all of his life, I know shinola from what he is actually selling. I just hope everyone else does too.

On cycling and a loss.

2008-07-10T18:22:29Z

When I was about 13 years old, my folks bought me my first 10-speed bike. I’d been riding a single speed starter Huffy for years already, but the gift of the Sears Free Spirit sent a clear message – my parents we done driving me to the neighborhood pool or my friends' birthday parties. I relished in the new found freedom, the name of the bike said it all.

Since then, I’ve clocked thousands of hours in the saddle of a bike, from the mountains of Mexico, riddled with thorns the size of a man’s finger, to the streets of Washington, D.C., with its teenage thugs who throw milk jugs full of urine. And despite the dangers, and the heat and freezing rain, I’ve loved every minute of my time on a bike. I don’t count myself lucky when I say I’ve never been seriously injured (run-ins with trees and parked cars excepted), because it hasn’t been about luck, it’s been about education.

When my parents handed me my bike, they also handed me a guide to riding safely and made me read it. And when, after years of riding my bike, I finally bought my own car, I was extra careful to watch for cyclists on the road.

I’m writing this post for two reasons. First, because on Tuesday of this week a cyclist on her way to work in DC was struck and killed by a garbage truck. And second, with the rising cost of gas, and concerns about global warming people in cities around the country are starting to consider, perhaps for the first time, getting on a bike for their commute to work.

DC residents are blessed with a great public transportation system that includes one of the cleanest subways in the country, and buses that seemingly cover every nook and cranny of the city. Add to that miles of bike lanes and sidewalks, and the options for getting to work and play are endless. But there is a lot of work yet to do, both in education and smart growth planning. Alice Swanson was in a bike lane, and obeying traffic laws when she was hit and killed. I make no excuses for the driver of the truck, but it’s probably a safe bet that the driver didn’t see her when he made a right turn into her (this remains to be determined). In this, and in all cases, there are three responsible parties, the cyclist, the driver and the city planners. I've been riding the streets of DC for years, and from my perspective we all have work to do. I have great hope that the city of DC is working to make its streets safer, and with feedback and input from the cycling community I can’t wait to see the future of this city.

So, as some of you out there consider getting on your bike, or buying your first, as a way to escape the rising cost of gas, please remember to educate yourselves about bicycle safety. I’m sure there is a local cycling advocacy group doing good work in your area (in DC its WABA), and they’d be happy to suggest a safe route for your commute.

And for the drivers who can’t ride, for whatever reason, please keep an eye out for us. One less driver on the road doesn’t necessarily mean one less person on the road.

~photo credit: vassieux

On Leaving My Wallet At Home

2007-11-21T03:28:40Z

I am a geek of the worst kind. I am an electronics gadget geek. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a lover of many other geeky things, like comics and video games, but nothing else comes close to my obsession with gadgets. Now I may not be able to afford an iPhone or latest Garmin GPS, but my lack of funds doesn’t stop me from knowing everything there is to know about those two items. If the opportunity to get one at a sweet price should present itself, I will be prepared. This obsession is evidenced by my possession of not one, but four Polar heart rate monitors. I use one of them, and only very, very rarely. I got such amazing prices on them (a savings of over 80%, amazing right?) I could not walk away. I have memory sticks, cell phones, mp3 players, mp3 player accessories, cameras, computer speakers, laptops, enough cords to make a rug, power tools, and I’m not even going to get into the cycling and camping gear because this could go on all day.

When these items become obsolete, I usually box them up and put them away. Every once in a while the stash gets to be too much and I have to get rid of a few items. Recently I disposed of a Sprint cell phone from 1999. That my friends, is not a joke. When the time comes though, I always find myself searching for a way to recycle the product, and when I can’t figure it out I take it to Goodwill. No one will ever buy these items from Goodwill, and deep down I know those items are going to end up in a dumpster. As AP writer Terence Chea pointed out this week in a story highlighting the problem of "e-waste", those items are going to end up in China. My old printer, the one that worked fine, but was an eyesore, is now somehwere in China polluting a river.

This coming Friday is Black Friday. It is a electronic gadget geeks Christmas. The savings are so obscene that an entire world of Black Friday websites have popped up across the internet. Less than $500 for a 32” HD LCD television? Are you kidding me? Break out the lawn chair and sleeping bag, I’m getting in line today! But why? My television works fine. And so does my first generation iPod mini. And my year old Motorola Razor. And yes, even my Polar hear rate monitor.

So this coming Friday, I’ll be joining the growing movement behind Buy Nothing Day. I’m not going to explain Buy Nothing Day, because it is exactly what the name implies. This year marks the 10th year that BND has been positioned on the same day as Black Friday. After finding out that we are sending about 300,000 tons of our unwanted electronics to China every year, I can’t imagine waiting another year to get behind the cause. No matter how badly I want an iPod touch.

From Blacksmith to Environmental Hero

2007-11-02T01:51:20Z

I laced up my first pair of climbing shoes in the fall of 1997. At the time, climbing in Texas was relegated to a few over crowded outdoor spaces, and more than a handful of indoor climbing gyms. After an hour or so of climbing, my arms were so full of lactic acid that my hand actually cramped when I tried to pull my shoes off. I was in love. So in love, that for the next four years I lived my life with my climbing shoes clipped to my backpack, and one climbing book or another under my arm.

The history of rock climbing in the United States is chock full of the sort of adventure I should have been reading about as a kid. In the late 1950’s a bunch of guys who had heard about climbing in the Alps wanted to see if they could climb the expansive granite faces found in the Yosemite Valley in California. El Capitan, The Shield and Half Dome, all seas of untouched granite beckoned the likes of Royal Robbins, Chuck Pratt, Warren Harding and Tom Frost. Together these men, armed with hemp ropes and leather lug soled shoes made the first ascents of these now iconic pieces of rock, often sleeping in their bivy sacks while tied to the rock. At the age of twenty-four I had my first real set of heroes. Their achievements would not have happened if it had not been for the talents of a young climber who was a trained blacksmith, Yvon Chouinard. In a small smith-shop Chouinard forged the pitons and carabineers that provided the basis for the safety systems the climbers used on their ascent, and the predecessors for the equipment I would pack every weekend for my adventures into the southwest. At the time it would have been possible to order the equipment from Europe, but these climbers were innovating and driving change in how climbing was done. Eventually, driven by Couninard’s imagination, the group created the clean climbing technique, which absconded with pitons that damaged the rock. Chouinard saw further into the future than any other climber had, and designed some of the best equipment ever used.

Eventually Chouinard’s smith shop became Black Diamond Equipment, and an industry of climbing innovation was born. Royal Robbins went on to loan his name and experience to a clothing company, and later in his life Tom Frost lent his name and expertise to a small climbing company called Frost Works. But neither changed the world of climbing technology as much as Chouinard.

In my imagination, in 1997 I still saw the Chouinard of a black and white photo taken in the early ‘60’s , young, wearing a blacksmith apron surrounded by my heroes. What I did not know at the time was that Chouinard was still alive, and still innovating. Then one day, a friend of mine handed me Chouinards book entitled Let My People go Surfing. My mind was blown. Chouinard had also started Patagonia, the clothing company I already admired for their environmentally conscious and sustainable business practices. Over the years I have preached the gospel of Patagonia, their business model, and their drive to innovate the manufacturing and procurement process of their products. It only made sense that Couinard was there, at the helm, looking to the future.

On October 24th, 2007, the National Forest Foundation presented Chouinard with its Conservation Leadership award for his tireless and innovative efforts to preserve the wilderness and support of organizations with the same mission. I wanted to write this post because everyone knows the Patagonia brand, but so few know about the man behind the idea. His name is Yvon Chouinard, and he is one of the few people left that I am willing to call a Hero. Congratulations Yvon.

Climb On!