The juxtaposition of the demonstration and column from Jane Lubechenco (The Times, Oct, 30) was a study in disconnect. Her happy, librarian-like, we-know-better-than-you simple folks tone was from another world: Forget about what we’re doing to your working fishermen, look what we’re doing with the middle school visitation programs where we can show the kiddies how we collect and then play with the numbers.
From where I launch and work my way up through Smith’s Cove, tacking back and forth to get into the central harbor, I see its monolithic steel self, scanning all corners of the harbor. Remorselessly keeping vigil over its mostly unaware subjects, there it sits, up on the hill like some sentient outer-world machine from War of the Worlds. Behind the lights at dusk that dot the dark bands of the top two floors, I now know that someone is keeping watch, maintaining surveillance on the boats, the water — and me.
The juxtaposition of that day, that demonstration and that column in the paper from Jane Lubechenco (The Times, Oct, 30) was a study in disconnect. Her happy, librarian-like, we-know-better-than-you simple folks tone was from another world:
Forget about what we’re doing to your working fishermen, look what we’re doing with the middle school visitation programs where we can show the kiddies how we collect and then play with the numbers — boil them down until they say anything we want, even until they evaporate. And we do it all up here in this magical, $25-million castle/fortress that is too wonderful to do anything but the right thing, hmm?
Now, how can you people be so ungrateful as to bite that hand that is managing your lives into the future — forever? We know more than you do, so you were officially deposited in the Not To Be Heard Category sometime ago. Everyone listens to us, anyway, not you people.