The 11th Hour

I have a long list of environmental documentaries in my Netflix queue, but I very rarely watch them (even though many of them are instant!). I think the reason is that they annoy me far too much. I imagine many of them are intended for people who don’t know that the environment is in trouble, but for me, I tend to tune out half of what they say (because I’ve heard it a thousand times before) and then become aggressively angry at the other half because I don’t agree with the type of solutions they suggest.

The 11th Hour was a perfect example. Leonardo DiCaprio managed to annoy me so badly I nearly turned the movie off half way through. If you are new to the environmental movement, or looking to be told what you already know for the umpteenth time, than by all means, watch this movie. This is a perfect film for those who are just getting their introduction to the concept that humans have royally screwed themselves over by destroying so much of our environment (read: our surroundings, the place that we live). It will also make the many people who believe that environmental destruction is bad but don’t want to change their lifestyles feel very good about themselves, because it promotes, unsurprisingly, the same “vote with your dollars” nonsense that ended An Inconvenient Truth.

Let’s start with the same old, it’s us and nature, and we have to save nature nonsense. I was glad that he (Leo) at least acknowledged that part of the problem is our society’s tendency to view the two as separate entities: we are part of nature, whether we like to believe it or not. But, after pointing this out, he went on to ask if nature holds the answers to our environmental crisis. I suppose he is referring specifically to the non-human part of the world, which yes, Mr. Smarty-Pants, probably holds some answers. You will notice that the non-human part of the world would be getting along very well if it weren’t for us. They must be doing something right, don’t you think?

Leo clearly thinks so, too. At least, he featured plenty of fairly uninteresting speakers who seemed to think so. But then he went on to ask what a city would look like if it was designed like a forest, and my brain nearly exploded. This particular bit boggled me so much that I will ignore his assertion that we need a “new industrial economy,” which means more regulation from the federal government and a revised tax structure, to more heavily tax those persons who pollute. It is naïve and somewhat delusional to think the government will ever tax industry more than a pittance for pollution, and will never charge them with cleaning up the mess they’ve created. Government and big industry go hand and hand, and you can be sure that no politician is going to cut off their own funding by angering big business.

But to get back to this city designed like a forest thing. If a city were designed like a forest, it wouldn’t be a city at all. This is one of those paradoxical questions. A city, apparently, according to the dictionary, is a large town or an incorporated municipality (which would technically make Chestertown a city). A forest is, well, a forest. It’s got trees, diversity, healthy soil structures… it’s self-contained… and a city requires thousands of people to be living in the same place. Usually all on top of each other, in one big building. That’s the definition. In order for a city to exist, massive amounts of resources must come from other places, to the city. Even if they invent some fabulous way of creating food in quantities large enough to feed all the people in cities, I can almost guarantee it will require some kind of technology (because we’re big fans of technological fixes), which will require some kind of metal, which will require mining, which will probably require petroleum, which is a non-renewable resource- are you seeing how this is unrelated to a forest? People in those kinds of numbers always require outside inputs, which are inherently unsustainable, which forests are not.

Not to mention the fact that forests, every few decades or sometimes hundreds of years, deteriorate and decay and burn down or fall down and go back to shrubs or prairie or what have you before growing back up into big forests again. It’s part of the cycle of life. Death, growth, change. Forests evolve. Species come and go. There are cycles.

Can you imagine a city like that? Would it still be a city? Cause I think the answer is no.

And oh, please, shut up about the voting with consumer dollars thing. It’s getting old. There are ways to create change without going out and buying more THINGS.

Besides, where’s YOUR shirt from, Leo?

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The Cove

Well, I was amused to spot one of the people in the film wearing a Sharkwater tshirt, having shown that film at the college a few years back.

They’re very similar films, Sharkwater and The Cove, except The Cove is (sorry Sharkwater guys, we love you) overall a little more coherent and compelling. Part of that is the underlying narrative which gives the film its name: a group of concerned activists discover a place on the coast of Japan where thousands of dolphins are annually driven in to shore, where they are rounded up and captured to be sold in the live dolphin trade. The dolphins that aren’t taken, including infants, are herded into a nearby secret cove where they are slaughtered for their meat, which is packaged as whale meat in Japan since the Japanese do not traditionally eat dolphin. The group of activists decide they must infiltrate this cove and film the slaughter process to get the word out to people the world over.

The film definitely had me on the edge of my seat, as it combines real life activism with a kind of Ocean’s 11 crack team operation suspense (they make the reference themselves in the film, but I found it to be fairly accurate). They obviously get the footage, and by the time you finally get around to the slaughter part your brain feels like it’s about to explode. Well, mine did. I was so angry that things like this constantly continue to go on that it was a miracle I didn’t run from my house screaming. It wasn’t simply the slaughter- it was the capture and trade of live dolphins, it was the fact that they were hiding that they sold the meat, which is highly contaminated with mercury, it was that children were dying of mercury poisoning because someone was trying to make money- it was the Japanese representative to the IWC blaming the decline in global fisheries on whales, who, according to him, eat too many fish- and backing it up with "scientific" evidence.

None of this is actually surprising. If you’re still surprised that stuff like this goes on, you’re living in a naïve fantasy world. And maybe I’m bitter and cynical, but stuff like this is going to CONTINUE to go on. Endlessly, maybe. Because no matter how many movies you make about this stuff, it doesn’t stop. Making movies does not stop people from slaughtering whales. Nor does writing letters, the suggestion given by the website of The Cove. Yes, write letters. Go for it. To whom? Who are you going to write a letter to who’s actually going to stop these people? It’s great to raise awareness, for people to know what’s going on. But everyone in the world being aware that dolphins are being slaughtered is not going to stop them from being slaughtered. Stopping people from slaughtering them is going to stop them.

Oddly enough the better depiction of how to stop people killing whales is to be found on South Park- given, they do a bang up job of making fun of everyone in the process, but that’s what the point of the show is. But as always, decide for yourself. Watch the movie, get angry, and decide for yourself if “letter writing” is the appropriate response to that slaughter- to the man who believes whales eating too much are responsible for the catastrophic decline in global fisheries- to the slaughter of millions of sharks- to all the rest of it.

Oh. And happy holiday.

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Chickening Out, Pt 2

The reason the whole chicken thing is so significant (aside from the fact that I broke a nearly ten year hiatus on meat), is what it implies. When I was standing there watching the chickens have their throats slit with one of my neighbors, she asked why I had decided that I needed to watch the chickens die. She wasn’t the only one- a lot of people have been asking why I couldn’t just decide to start eating meat, why I had to be there to witness the blood (there’s less than you’d think) and guts and gore (which is mostly fat).

And I told her that my biggest problem with our food system is that it allows you to look away. A live, feathered chicken looks absolutely nothing like the chicken you buy in the grocery store, and it’s amazing how quickly after death they cease to look like animals and more like hunks of meat. And that’s fine- you wouldn’t want to eat it with all the feathers on- but people in our culture have the luxury of not having the faintest clue where their food comes from. And when you don’t know where your food comes from- especially when it comes in a bright and shiny package in the store- you divorce yourself not only from the knowledge of what went into the process of bringing that food to your table, but from the responsibility of choosing foods that are not only going to nurture your body, but are thoughtful, humane, and environmentally friendly choices.

In direct contrast to my afternoon standing outside in the sunshine butchering chickens, last night the college showed a PBS Frontline feature called “Poisoned Waters.” In it, journalist Hedrick Smith explores the causes of the vast amounts of pollution in the Chesapeake Bay, pollution that never seems to abate regardless of how much money we pour into the problem. And he traces that pollution, unsurprisingly, back to CAFOs- Confined (or Concentrated) Animal Feeding Operations, a term more commonly used to apply to cattle, but which can also refer to chickens. The audience around me gasped at images of vast chicken sheds- often holding as many as four hundred thousand chickens in one long building. Chickens live in close, cramped quarters, usually in darkness, frightened and falling all over one another. They end their lives by being unceremoniously dumped into a truck, driven down the highway to one of the plants (plenty of ‘em down around Salisbury), and butchered on an assembly line. Stainless steel belts filled the screen- workers in gloves and hairnets and masks each making one cut, each only doing one part of the process, as fast as possible- and certainly not talking to each other. I had to lean over to the person next to me and point out the difference- our slaughter was a community event- people came to see their chickens before picking them up, they brought their kids, they talked and caught up and brought snacks. Not so in the poultry industry.

Smith interviews Jim Perdue, Chairman of Perdue Farms, one of the biggest poultry growers on the shore. Perdue argues that to succeed in business you need efficiency- and “efficiency is often size. Things had to become bigger to keep costs lower.” And this does indeed keep prices down. But chickens on the Delmarva, in addition to providing cheap chicken, produce about 1.5 billion pounds of manure. A year. And there’s not a whole lot you can do with 1.5 billion pounds of chicken s***.

Instead, a lot of the nutrients are washed into the bay. At one site where manure tainted water was running off into the bay, E. coli counts were found to be 48,392 colonies. The standard for clean water is 126. Arsenic was found at 9 times the standard levels- not to mention the high doses of nitrogen and phosphorus, which cause the algae blooms that suck the oxygen from the bay and cause massive fish kills every year.

This was no surprise to me. After all, there was a reason I was only going to eat chicken from a farm where the chickens are raised on grass, and where the manure is just tramped down into the soil, where new grass grows up out of it. You can only do so many chickens this way, and chances are it is a far more expensive process. It is nowhere near efficient. Efficiency doesn’t even begin to account for expenses like pausing in cleaning a chicken to explain to a child why we saved out all the livers (for fishing) and what that green stuff was (accidentally slicing into a gall bladder). Not to mention that most of us had never butchered a chicken before, and kept pausing to compare techniques and debate over whether or not we’d gotten the lungs out (they are tricky little things).

The one problem I had with the film was its’ sideways attack on farmers. No, it’s not right that farmers allow so many nutrients to wash away from their chicken operations that the bay is barely functional. But the farmers are not the only culprit. The film spent a long time attacking the poultry industry- the CEOs who could very easily assist their farmers in upgrading their farms to manage wastewater and to prevent those nutrients from escaping into the bay- but who will not do so because of the cost. They certainly share a far greater portion of the blame than many of the farmers, who aren’t given a whole lot of options if they want to keep their land.

But there is one other place where the blame can squarely fall. After all, would Perdue produce millions and millions of chickens if no one was eating them?

What if the millions of people who eat chicken EVERY DAY demanded that chicken operations prevented those pollutants from running off into the water? What if millions of people actually visited the chickens they were eating, and then watched them being slaughtered, and took a turn at helping with the butchering?

Do you think we’d still have the system we do?

You can watch the full PBS special here: Poisoned Waters

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Film Review: Not Evil Just Wrong

I had the opportunity to attend a world premier public screening of Not Evil Just Wrong, a documentary about "global warming hysteria" hosted by the Republican Club at Washington College. The movie targets the belief that our planet is heating up, focusing on Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth. It posits that Gore is the leader of an environmentalist movement intending to fulfill its doomsday prophecies by destroying the fossil fuel industry, subverting the global economy, killing millions of Africans, and shattering the American dream.

Co-directors Phelim McAleer and Ann McElhinney recollect exaggerated human risk scenarios such as Y2K and "mad cow" disease. They show the morbid fascination of schoolchildren who are affected by Gore's film and emphasize that An Inconvenient Truth has nine inaccuracies or distortions. They present intermittent misconceptions about global warming: we are living in an ice age and extra heat would be pleasant, the melted ice shelves are regenerating, polar bear populations are rising, and coal power plants are exhausting no pollutants.

Detour to Africa, where human populations have plummeted since environmentalists helped to ban DDT, resulting in increased vectors of malarial infection. McAleer and McElhinney explain this is the result of Rachel Carson's seminal ecological work Silent Spring, which Gore continues to champion. Cut to Vevay, Indiana, the heartland of America, where residents share their conviction that their way of life would deteriorate if the local coal power plant were to close. Environmentalists agree: the rapid transition to a non-fossil fuel energy infrastructure will be painful.

Now we can balance the liberal cadences of An Inconvenient Truth with a conservative rebuttal: the agenda among environmentalists to save the planet at the expense of humans—depriving nations of DDT to control population; scaring children with apocalyptic visions; attacking coal production in the spirit of bad science.

The selective scholarship can be dismantled as quickly as it was cobbled together.

Read Silent Spring to clarify that Carson advocated the use of DDT for insect control. Watch Everything's Cool for an alternative stance on global warming. Screen Kilowatt Ours to learn more about our relation to coal as an energy source. Peruse The Weather Makers to illuminate modern climate science. Watch I.O.U.S.A. to see the cost of taking more than we have; imagine more with what we have in Cradle to Cradle.

The film aims for an audience that sympathizes with its message. It does not invoke challenges to the thesis that we can continue living on non-renewable energy, which it shrouds in a fog of DDT and heartland pathos. It presupposes that its viewers will not ponder the agenda behind a film that promotes endless fossil fuel consumption.

Ultimately, Not Evil Just Wrong hopes to perpetuate a culture besotted with cheap fuel, and to that end, it's added more coal to the fire.

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Food Inc

I love this town.

No, I really do. Whenever there is a need, the entire town comes together to support that need. And the need last night was to support Colchester Farm, CSA, the place where so many of us get our food from June to October. The evening started with a cocktail hour, featuring delicious local foods (I went back for the roasted pepper ravioli several times), most of it made by local chefs, including Kent County High School, and several of the Colchester Farm board members. This was followed by a showing of Food, Inc., which, if you haven’t seen yet, you should. Soon.

I wanted to start by praising our town though- we’ve kind of taken food on as our issue, for whatever reason. Possibly its just because we have access to so many wonderful local foods, grown by so many wonderful people who are such a part of the community. We’re proud of our food, proud of the fact that we’re a town in the so called middle of nowhere, which in reality is the middle of a cornucopia of delicious things to eat. And so fortunately we don’t constantly have to look the full brunt of the realities of the industrial food system right in the eye. We at least have other options.

So in some ways Food, Inc. didn’t have much to do with Chestertown. But in others, it hit a point very close to home. Most of the farming done on the Eastern Shore is in commodity crops- corn, grain, soybeans- and most of it goes to feed chickens down on the lower shore. Actually, there are plenty of chickens up this way too. If you sit out on 213 late, late at night you can watch the empty trucks go north toward Galena, and if you wait long enough, you can watch them come back again, full of chickens on their way to the slaughterhouse.

The movie isn’t for the faint of heart. If you don’t want to see the inside of a chicken house (and I have to say, this was a pretty decent chicken house, as far as they go- there were no cages and it actually had windows), don’t watch this movie. If you want to continue to eat industrial food completely unawares of what you’re putting in your body, of the horrors you’re supporting by eating that cheap chicken, don’t watch this movie. But if you’re interested in what plagues our food system- what plagues us, right here, on the Eastern Shore, then watch this movie.

I’ve talked so much about what’s wrong with the food system on this blog that I don’t currently feel the need to reiterate. The movie didn’t reveal anything to me that I didn’t know- but I’ve also made it my life’s work to take on the industrial food system, so I’d be curious to hear the reaction of someone who actually (for some reason?) still eats fast food. But the movie made a good point- not only do most people not know what’s going on behind the scenes in the places their food comes from, they’re not allowed to know.

If you want to trace your food back to the source, good luck to you. I hope you have a lot of time and a lot of money. We aren’t allowed to see inside those chicken houses- we definitely aren’t allowed to see inside the slaughterhouses. If we were- as sustainable farmer Joel Salatin says in the movie- our food system would be something rather different. That’s why he slaughters his chickens in an open sided shed, and invites all the people who buy food from his farm to come and watch and participate.

There was also a strong theme of better regulations for food in the movie. But at the same time, a lot of us are struggling locally to be able to get access to local meats and dairy because of the overbearing regulations of the state of MD. The contradiction came up during the Q&A, but I personally don’t think it’s a contradiction at all. I believe they even said, in the movie, that when you’re selling to a place like WalMart you need those regulations, you need to have had your food inspected and carefully labeled and have the assurance that it doesn’t contain E. coli, because the consumer has no other way of knowing. The shopper at WalMart can’t go out to the farm and meet the farmer and take a look around, because likely the farm is on the other side of the world- and likely the process that food item took to get from that farm to the WalMart would be more than enough to stop the consumer buying the item, anyway.

But in the case of local foods, you have the option of seeing what you’re buying produced first hand. Not everyone wants to watch their chickens get slaughtered- but when I talked to the guy who I plan to get chicken from last night, he invited me right on out to the farm to meet the chickens, allowing me to feel a little bit better about consuming meat. Locally, it really is a case of buyer beware- if you choose to buy locally, you are responsible for checking out the person you are buying from, not USDA. A farmer last night pointed out that this is a big risk for farmers- they could easily get sued- but I’ve heard a great suggestion that would solve that problem all around. What if we were allowed to opt out of the conventional food system? What if, as we do in so many other areas of our life, we were allowed to sign a waiver that said, we don’t want to participate in the conventional food system, thanks so much, and we hereby take responsibility for our food choices upon ourselves, swearing never to sue our local farmers, because we’re part of a community, and its our responsibility as well as theirs to double check on the process and make sure our food is safe?

Can you imagine what WalMart would say to that?

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The End of the Long Summer

So last night the environmental author Dianne Dumanoski gave a talk at the college. If you missed it, and I bet you did, then you missed quite a discussion. You can read all about her book, The End of the Long Summer, over at her website, www.diannedumanoski.com.

Dumanoski started by pointing out a fundamental flaw of the environmental movement, and one I’ve pointed out several times on this blog. We aren’t particularly honest with ourselves when we discuss our goals, if we discuss them at all. We talk about saving the planet, but this is an act of pure hubris- the planet will get on just fine if there’s climate change. There has been climate change many times in the past, and species have died back and rebounded in new and astounding ways.

What we’re really doing is saving the planet so we can still live on it. We can talk about saving whales and trees and rare species of butterfly, but let’s face it, we’re really talking about saving ourselves. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing immoral about wanting to preserve your own species so your potential grandchildren can keep on trucking. Well, metaphorically- trucks may be extinct by then. But you get the idea.

In her book, and in her talk, she attempts to look beyond the symptoms of “planetary distress” to the actual cause. It was a refreshing talk in that she didn’t just ramble on about climate change- a frequent topic, among lecturers, and one she certainly brought up- but addressed the likelihood that we are in fact actually past the point of no return. Climate change, according to most research, is now inevitable. There’s no going back. We can mitigate the effects of climate change, certainly, and so there’s no reason to throw our hands up in despair and stop pursuing cleaner energy sources and things of that nature. But we also have to think beyond those mitigating efforts. If climate change is indeed upon (and it seems that it is- it is only the when and where and to what extent that are up for debate), our planning should be for how we handle the changes that will occur.

This isn’t a momentous idea. Most people, with only a cursory knowledge of human history, will agree that things change. Things aren’t the same now as they were 100 years ago. And yet we tend to act as if things are never going to change. Our economy is based on this notion of exponential growth, without taking into account that at some point there will be no more possibility of growth- we live in a limited environment (presuming we don’t expand into space, and the very thought makes me roll my eyes). Our food system is based on fossil fuels. Our communications (and most of our economy) are all based on a very fragile system that could fall apart with a few well placed keystrokes. And our heating and cooling is all based on electricity, as is our access to water. If these things are taken away- if something were to happen to disrupt public water systems, for example- would any of us know what to do?

These things are rarely taken into account. Dumanoski argues that we’re asking the wrong questions. We’re trying to “green the status quo”, a phrase that I love, because it so accurately describes efforts to find a technological fix for everything. On one of the green blogs I subscribe to, I am daily barraged with tips on “greening” everything from hair dryers to toothpicks to vacations to gym memberships. But there the question of whether we should continue to pursue all these avenues is never, not a once, brought into light.

The common law among environmentalists is that we can never, EVER, mention the dirty words “maybe we should just give that up.” No, we cannot question consumption. We can never, god forbid, question the mandate of constant economic growth, or the desire of people to own private jets. People will never subscribe to environmentalism if we’re so negative.

But Dumanoski’s call to action is not for us all to go around crying that the sky is falling. Rather, she simply suggests we be honest with ourselves, that we in fact must be honest with ourselves, if we hope to survive as a species. If we don’t prepare for climate change, how can we possibly face it? Wouldn’t the worst catastrophe be if climate change occurred, and very abruptly as scientists are predicting, and we all just stood there with a big “oh [insert four letter word here]” sketched on our faces?

She pointed out that the answers are in fact just in front of our faces. The planet organizes things in such a way as to be resilient to catastrophe. There are multiple species doing the same job, or similar, so that if one is killed off there are others to take their place. The college does this as an emergency planning measure- if one person is out, we are all required to have a second and third person trained to do our jobs so things don’t come to a grinding halt. Ecosystems are also modular- connected, somewhat, but not to the point where if one collapsed there would necessarily be a chain reaction wiping out all the others. But we in our global society are all very specialized- and all very connected- so that if oil reserves run out, for example, pretty much all of us are screwed. But that’s a topic I intend to write more about later.

During the Q&A the topic of hope came up- what is there to give us hope that we can face the momentous task of preparing for climate change, when we neither know when it’s going to occur or what form it’s going to take? Dumanoski responded that we can’t have hope unless it’s honest- unless we are willing to face the facts about what lies ahead, and realize that the “long summer” we’ve enjoyed will not and cannot last forever. She suggests large scale social reorganization as one of the only ways of becoming more adaptable to change- which is of course one of the things our society is most resistant to. She also pointed out that we’re currently educating for a future that doesn’t exist, and this is key. Even here at the college we’re still educating under the assumption that things will be more or less the same down the line when our students are facing the real world.

I think she’s partially right about the honesty- we absolutely have to be honest about what’s ahead. There is far too much unfounded optimism running around where “saving the environment” is concerned- and far too much despair. But I think we have something to be optimistic about. From what I’ve seen, when faced with the honest truth, most humans are able to step up to the challenge. When given a problem and asked to solve it, we have the creative capacity to find solutions- if only we are taught that we do have that capacity within ourselves, if only we are educated to approach problems with enthusiasm and an eye for the experimental, the untried path, the unconventional- and that it doesn’t take experts to save the planet for people, but people with the passion and dedication to be entirely honest with themselves and each other, and jump off that ledge into an unknown future armed with just their wits and one another.

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In Defense of Food

I recently finished Michael Pollan’s latest book, In Defense of Food. In it he argues that eating well is actually relatively simple, once you cut through the combined forces of the food industry, food scientists, and the media (which is maybe not so easy to do). I thought at first this book was not going to be as good as his last few (how could you top Omnivore’s Dilemma?) and in a way it’s not. It lacks the narrative that drives Omnivore’s Dilemma, the actual human drama of searching for a meal- something that we can all, on a very intrinsic level, relate to.

Though In Defense of Food is based more on science than human interest, it remains profound in that it is really a culmination of Pollan’s work to date. Starting with the story of the deeply symbiotic relationship between humans and certain plants in The Botany of Desire and progressing through how we get those plants to our plate in Omnivore’s Dilemma, Pollan finally comes full circle in his latest book, looking again at our relationship with plants from the biological perspective of nutrition, and combining this with how the way we raise our plants affects the nutritional quality of our food. It is worth reading if only to see these pieces fall into place. A quote:

“Health is, among other things, the product of being in these sorts of relationships in a food chain… It follows that when the health of one part of the food chain is disturbed, it can affect all the other creatures in it. If the soil is sick or in some way deficient, so will be the grasses that grow in that soil and the cattle that eat the grasses and the people who drink the milk from them.”

In addition, the book provides up to date information about the fallacies of nutritional science that will have you throwing all your other “nutrition” books out the window- and rightfully so, as it has always seemed absurd to eat by attempting to figure out the nutritional content of food, when for thousands of years people have got on by eating based on food combinations their culture has worked out, over thousands of years. The olive oil/ tomato combination, for example: olive oil makes the lycopene in tomatoes more available, but when it comes down to it, who the hell cares? The two work well together, and people have survived for centuries eating those two foods in combination. As Pollan says:

“You would not have bought this book and read this far into it if your food culture was intact and healthy. And while it is true that most of us unthinkingly place the authority of science above culture in all matters having to do with our health, that prejudice should at least be examined. The question we need to ask is, Are we better off with these new authorities telling us how to eat than we were with the traditional authorities they supplanted?”

Really, as he concludes, you only need nutritional science if you are eating industrial, processed foods, which don’t have much in the way of nutrition- unless you extract it from something else and add it in. His rules for eating well are sensible and don’t require a calculator, or much in the way of label reading, because when it comes down to it, if it has a label, it’s probably not something you want to be eating. I most enjoyed the rule of thumb, don’t eat it if your great grandmother wouldn’t have recognized it as a food, as this is one of my personal rules of thumb. He means, of course, if you took your great grandmother to the grocery store and handed her a tube of Go-Gurt, or whatever the hell it’s called- would she recognize it as a food?

Probably not. And maybe, neither should you.

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