Here's What I Want For The World

I want someone to build a Mega-Piston Facility - something I made up in my head.

This facility will generate energy from combustibles. It will have a massive chamber, like a gasoline engine, but the CO2 and other exhausts will be sucked out by hoards of bacteria or algae, and instead of gasoline, it will be powered by nuclear and non-nuclear weapons alike - bullets, explosives scheduled for wasted demolish-uhhh-ment (I'm aware that isn't a word really), missiles, but mostly nuclear weapons. We'll build it on Antarctica, but it can only exist if we make sure it is fully contained of all but the most numerically negligible - heck, we may get fresh water out of the deal, but we must preserve what we have and not just bottle it up. I'm not saying we can't make gobssss of money, but more importantly, I'm just not sure we should go messing around in Antarctica without reasonable assurances that we won't cause El Ninyo times a Google (which, by the way is still a number). Forget it. You're all doomed to blow each other up anyway, so what's the point in trying to argue for the conservation of one measly little sustainably developed zone.

Anyway, this blatherskite-vapor Peace Energy machine will of course be shaped like a peace sign and the tunnels in the midst of this radian wind tunnel will be coated with strong magnetic repulsors, and the whole system will be a cross between your 'wind tunnel' vaccum and a nuclear detonation transistor/world dearmament solution.

There you go world, I just gave us salvation for free. And remember, you get what you pay for, as they say. Unless its free parking - that's a whole lot more.

Surely there's someone who can do such things in seven days or less.

Maybe the Ebenezers of old kept our cities flush with capital since people had to live all together back then in abject poverty. The middle managers could alienate everyone like Mr. Burns, then turn warm and donate their dying inheritance to building park benches, or some other thing - scholarships, orphanages - money in private hands buying good-will for dollars on the penny in the end. Does Tiny Tim's story get told in the modern fairey tales? Where are the heroes around us all? I'm pretty sure they are there, seen or unseen.

Maybe we could make some tiny black holes or something to put in the middle of it.

Snowzilla's Family Attests To Heartwarming History: Repost from ADN.com

The daughter of Snowzilla creator Billy Powers speaks out against Anchorage attempt to duplicate the now-famous towering figure of the magic of Christmas. The awe-inspiring and popular sight of the annual two story construction has battled with detractors including the city, especially in the neighborhood where staunch Snowzilla supporters reside.

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City snowman can't duplicate special joy of Snowzilla

By DAKOTA POWERS

Published: January 9th, 2009 12:36 AM
Last Modified: January 9th, 2009 12:36 AM

Building a snowman downtown at the railroad depot will not be the same as Snowzilla, no matter how much city officials try to claim it will be.

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Dakota Powers is the daughter of Billy Ray Powers and lives in Anchorage

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Comments (39)

The Snowzilla that resides in my front yard is a member of my family. He is unique, and an absolute replica would never be possible. The magic is in the warm heart of this cold giant.

Three years ago, when Snowzilla first rose, he started as any other snowman my brothers had made.

Bundled warmly and armed with shovels, gloves and the holiday spirit, the boys set out. Standing at about 8 or 9 feet (almost 13 with the hat), the snowman was impressive but nowhere near its ultimate height. My siblings were proud of their piece of artwork.

Then two weeks later, a warm Chinook wind blew in and the southern side of the snow sculpture dripped to the ground. The boys, determined to resurrect the big guy, marched out to our front yard to get to work. My Dad and neighbor witnessed the advance and recommended filling the bottom and middle balls together to make the whole thing bigger, "Better double up and catch up," -- a Billy Powers statement if there ever was one.

The fresh snow was moist and packable, the sleds and buckets were out, and neighborhood kids were ready and willing. My sister, not so much for the cold and with a new sewing machine, set to work stitching and stuffing mittens and a nose. The hat was a clothes hamper glued to a hover disc, and the corncob pipe was a soup can and sawed off ski pole.

The first Snowzilla rose to 16 feet and was warmed by a 24-foot scarf. For two weeks, our front door was swinging open and the front entry draped with wet snowsuits slowly drying and gloves warming on the wood stove. Rosy-faced children came in and out to warm up and go to the bathroom, each time taking what seemed like days getting in and out of their winter clothes. With the holiday spirit of a child, my Dad conducted the project and packed snow along with all the other kids and neighbors. It was quite an accomplishment, and the snowman lasted well into April.

It was in mid-May when Snowzilla had finally melted down to a chunk of ice about the size of a football. The mass was dirty and rough where it rested in the sandbox -- the same sandbox my Dad had built when I was only four.

My brothers Jack and Tucker rushed into the house wearing tennis shoes, shorts and T-shirts carrying the last of their snowman. "We have Snowzilla's heart!" they announced and promptly placed it in the freezer. It waited there among the frozen hamburger and peas until the next winter, when we took it out and placed it at the very base of the next Snowzilla. It is the heart and the magic that has made our sculpted snowman so special and seem so alive.

Snowmen can be built downtown at the railroad depot and could easily equal or surpass the height of Snowzilla -- but they would never equal what he brings to our family and families around the world. A commercialized snowman would not produce the same joy and sense of community that Snowzilla brings. Snowmen are intimate personal creations. None of those snowmen would have the exceptional connection with people; they do not have the heart.

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Dakota Powers is the daughter of Billy Ray Powers and lives in Anchorage.