WHAT TANGLED WEBS WE WEAVE

The BP logo used to crack me up; I'd point it out to my wife: "Look! How stupid do they think we are? Their whole corporate image is wrapped up in how good they are for the environment; they make it look like when you put their stuff in your car you're putting a little bit of green sunshine in there . . . but they're an oil company for crying out loud!"

I drive a VW Passat turbo-diesel; I love my fahrvergnügen, especially on hills, but the "clean diesel, bio-diesel" themes they're always pushing - especially over there in Europe - crack me up even more. It's diesel for crying out loud, let's call it for what it is - especially when you're passing on a hill, the fahrvergnügen's signature move; nice little black cloud of "bio-diesel" coming out the backside there.

Of course, since the Deepwater Horizon was attacked I mean blown-up-by-accident I've been dutifully going out of my way to patronize BP filling stations - we capitalist pigs have to support one another, right? That is, until the latest angle on the Lockerbie Bomber story broke . . .


BP Admits to Libya Oil-for-Terrorist-Swap Meddling

BP admitted on Thursday that it lobbied the British government to carry out a prisoner-transfer with the Libyan government because it feared a delay would damage its business in the country.


Just to keep this thing in perspective, we're talking about the guy behind THIS outrage:




It was almost nine months from the release of the Lockerbie bomber Abdel Baset al-Megrahi:



. . . to the development of THIS mess:




Normally I'm all for laissez-faire capitalism, but there has to be a moral aspect to your actions . . . talk about your evil profit motive . . . talk about your BAD KHARMA!!!


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RIG WORKERS DESCRIBE LAST MOMENTS BEFORE EXPLOSION

The Deepwater Horizon before . . .




. . . during . . .





. . . and after the events of 20 April 2010.








" . . . Wheeler hung up the phone, changed into his coveralls and walked . . . down the hall toward the tool room, then stopped. The hall reeked of gasoline. The lights flickered. Popping sounds echoed from overhead. All of a sudden, the door to the tool room seemed to be breathing, as though someone were pushing on it from the other side.

What happened next would be the last thing Wheeler remembered: The door blew off its hinges and barreled toward him, even before he heard an explosion . . ."







" . . . The deck, once as large as two football fields, now measured three-quarters of its original size, and some of it was on fire. Pieces of machinery were raining down from the derrick, 200 feet overhead. More than 100 men had crowded against a railing near the lifeboats - the only solid ground. Smoke billowed above. Flames grew nearby. The dark ocean waited 80 feet below. Explosions shook the rig every few minutes, spilling men and equipment across the deck . . . "









Read this entire incredible saga HERE. . .
S.L.




A crew from the ship the Damon B. Bankston was supplying the oil rig when the explosion occurred and took survivors aboard.


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