Monthly Archives: December 2008

Before you celebrate new year….

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Just a reminder that even though we all love our hours, minutes, seconds, months, weeks and centuries, none of them are real.

One year is real, but it does not necessarily start on January 1st. It’s just one whole orbit around the sun.

One day is real, but it does not necessarily start at midnight.
It’s just one revolution of the planet.

Everything else is imagined, no matter how much time we spend measuring with our watches and calendars.

So celebrate new year, but remember you could just as well do it on any other date, most appropriately on March 21st or September 21st at an equinox.

Christmas in Las Vegas and Why I Don’t Gamble

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By Jack Hunter Cohen

Spent the last couple of days in Vegas. I don’t gamble and it’s not my favorite place. And whatever happens in Vegas follows you everywhere. Sorry if that’s a buzz kill for anyone, but there it is. The lights are amazing. And there are so many of them. The sounds of distraction are as blatant as anywhere on the planet and everyone at the gambling tables has either got way too much money for their own good or are chasing the idea that if they win the next game they’re going to suddenly reach some sort of nirvana that’s been evading them elsewhere. That MAY be an oversimplification, but only slight, I think. And this isn’t to criticize anyone who DOES gamble. We all have our distractions as we all have our forms of self-medication. It isn’t that I want to rain on anyone’s parade either. The friend I was there to meet looked like he was having a genuinely good time. I even had a good time watching him at the craps table. It was late Wednesday and nobody seemed to be throwing anything that was going to make anyone any richer and since, as I said, I don’t gamble and I was there and I felt like I was in a scene from Las Vegas – The Movie! I offered to throw the dice for him. He agreed and after a couple of pretty good throws – or so I was told; I had no idea what any of this meant just that no one seemed particularly impressed with my skills – I rolled the dice for the third or fourth time and watched as one of them hit the other end of the table and flew off. This is not an unusual occurrence as it turns out, just one you don’t see in films. Why, I don’t know. It was pretty funny. But I digress.

As I looked around the casino I had one of my not infrequent experiences of feeling like an anthropologist on a foreign planet observing the funny little natives engaging in a strange ritual. Some of the very pretty dealers, dressed up in Santa suits designed by Hugh Hefner whose tables were empty, looked like if someone didn’t walk up and start playing soon they were going to start taking it personally. But far and away the best feature of this particular hotel – The Hard Rock – is the acoustics. Imagine this: You’re sitting at the bar and suddenly out of nowhere comes the voice of, not the person you’re speaking with but, someone from some other location. Only it sounds like they’re right next to you. They actually designed the place so that you could listen in on other peoples’ conversations from the other side of the bar. I suppose, you can never have too many distractions in a casino in Vegas on Christmas.

I do hope none of this sounds judgmental. As I said, we’re all in this thing together – whatever you want to call this thing. And so long as no one’s stepping on anyone else’s joy, as my friend James says, have at it. But after spending a few hours at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino and contemplating spending the night I decided my time would be better spent leaving.

Jack Hunter Cohen is a filmmaker and writer in Los Angeles

Ranch therapy in paradise

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By Louis the Scooterer

On my way to the original MyPoP the other morning to drink a coffee, I saw some horses with riders, from the nearby regular horseriding ranch. They were crossing the road, and heading into the bushes, from where they found a track down to the beach to amble back to the ranch.

Further along the road I have also seen a sign showing a “horse head” and I took no notice, but this sign is not about the regular horse-ranch ?? (and I wondered?) I drank my coffee and afterwards decided to scoot on the road that I thought would be next to the horse trail.


After a few hundred meters on the tarmac road..I came to a “soft sand” road and I saw another signboard with “horse head” and word “INTRA” ?.

Usually I dont scoot on soft sand coz the wheels on my current scooter are small and thin and not designed for “offroad”. I decided to have a look anyway, and slowly scooted another few hundred meters on the soft sand.

I came to a “horse riding place”..and went in to ask…”what is this place?”

A couple of young women were riding, and working with horses in a closed area, and I learned from them..
briefly, that this is a place where horses are trained.. to accept *”handicapped riders”.. and “handicapped people” are taught to sit on and ride the horses.

They suggested that I speak to Anita who is in charge. At an eye-opening chat with Anita and her husband Giora I learned something about INTRA. (Please visit this website http://www.intra.org.il/ ) and MUST watch this incredible video ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J4F7fXLGtI )

As soon as I heard that they use volunteers, I immediately became one. I am a “fixer, cleaner, do whatever” man.. and I go there often. Here, I learned that the word “*handicapped people” is regularly widely misused, and many people who are mentally or physically challenged, are NOT “handicapped”.

This “horse riding place” on top of the cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea has become a second My PoP. This time it is “My Place of Patience”.

While I do some chores or just sit around, I have watched the trainers training the horses, and after a session, they groom and take care of the horses.. and their chores are ongoing and never-ending.. and they love what they do ! I have watched as these patient persons teach a rider..oh so many “things”.. about the saddle and other equipment, how to sit and hold the reins..how to do some grooming. This teaching, and the learning, are also ongoing and never-ending.

Hats off to this incredible place, and as a side comment..I’m very happy that no smoking is allowed close to the horses. A smoking area is to one side..and that will be a pleasure for me to tell smokers to “move along”!

I will be relating to you from here, and from time to time will tell about new things that I see and things that I’m told. So watch this space.

On my way back home I stopped at a tiny kiosk where Ofer makes felafel in a pita bread..and another delicacy made with boiled eggs also in a pita. I say its the best in Israel..certainly the cleanest kitchen I’ve seen, all 3 meters x 3 meters square, and he has the necessary pots n pans n stove n fridge that he needs, and always a customer or two eating at the counter, which is across the road from the sea. I put up 1 finger on each hand and he knows I want 1 of each..to take away..and while I was waiting, I sat at the little table..
staring into space and thinking back…

I looked at my scooter helmet on the saddle…and thought back to when I was 18 years old and living in Johannesburg.. and 55 years ago when I had my first Vespa scooter. NO helmets were necessary in those days, and the scooter also came with a spare wheel, and life was so different then.

I used to park the scooter on the sidewalk, outside the building where I lived, and night after night NO one ever interfered with the scooter. I often scooted to The Dolls House and collect takeaway hamburgers and toasted cheese sandwiches. I dont remember ever feeling unsafe while scooting all over the places IN and outside the city.

One day my friend Bob who also had a Vespa was involved in an accident, and a photo appeared in the newspaper with caption “scooter and wheelbarrow in accident” ! Bob said he didn’t see the wheelbarrow, and the pusher of the wheelbarrow said he didn’t see the scooter.. no serious damage..the matter was settled on the street..out of court.

Another memory flashed back.. I belonged to the Vespa Scooter Club which had about 40 members, and we often went for outings in a group..maybe 20 scooters, and many of us carried a passenger, so perhaps 30 people on an outing..(usually one every month). I was club captain for one month which was a marvellous idea, so 12 captains in a year..who chose a route, and arranged with a restaurant or picnic place, that a group would be coming, and we always were welcome at these places.

I’ll never forget when Dawn invited us to her home at the end of an outing..and about 20 people queued outside the one only toilet in her small apartment. In the tiny lounge 6 or 8 drank a coffee or colddrink, then moved outside so the next 6 or 8 could come in for their drink. I remember most drivers seemed to drive more carefully in those days, and many smiled and waved as they passed the scooters.

My packet was ready, and I realise that since I began scooting here in Israel, I have asked perhaps twenty riders of 2 wheelers, to ride with me a while, and as yet none have. About 12 other riders have suggested to ride with me sometime.. but, NEVER yet have I had another rider to do a ride with me.

I still ride alone. Perhaps if I had company on some trips then I wouldn’t have seen what I’ve seen, and probably wouldn’t have met some of the great characters that I’ve met along the way(s).

Please dear reader.. dont forget to visit the two websites I mentioned earlier.

Louis the Scooterer is a retired South African living in Netanya, Israel.

The Methane Army is coming to get you.

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By Major Pong

People of Earth,

We are The Methane Army. We are billions of molecules of stinky atmosphere warming gas and we are putting on our boots and getting ready to come through the door and whip your ass.

Actually we’ve been doing this from time to time over millions of years, since well before you messy humans evolved. Oops, sorry to use the E word you religious numbskulls. Where was I? Oh yes,.. the Methane Cycle. No it’s it’s not my new mountain bike.

You see we are trapped by cool temperatures in the soil beneath your wetlands, lakes and oceans. but as you pump more and more carbon dioxide into the air with your silly cars made by General Motors who are so stupid they cannot even line up a steering wheel with a driver’s seat, we see our opportunity to come out and play.

As far as warming the planet is concerned, we are twenty four times times as effective as carbon dioxide. And it’s not the cows and sheep that you keep prisoner that will push us out the door, and push you over the edge, we are already here in the billions, waiting to bubble up and cook you ’til you dry up and disappear.

Yes the atmosphere will kill a few of us, but there are enough of us to tip the balance, so unless you find a way to cool down Earth, and fast, we will be out and you will be gone.

Before your industrial age, we were 7 parts per billion in the atmosphere, and now we are 1700 parts per billion, and rising. And we are much better than carbon dioxide at keeping in that people-cooking solar radiation and heating up the planet. Sure there is “OH”, not a magazine by Oprah, but a hydroxyl free radical that can destroy us in the atmosphere, but you know what, we are going to win.

So enjoy it while you can humans. We’ve seen your kind come and go before, and before you know it, your crust will be recycled and all traces of you will be melted clean in the mantle.

Major Pong is very tiny, so he enlisted the help of Jeffrey the Barak to write this fine article for the-vu.

Scooterer Stories, Part Thirteen – Galilee

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By Louis the Scooterer

Continue touring in all directions around the Sea of Galilee”

At the end of that previous excellent day…we checked in to KareDeshe Youth Hostel.. north of Tiberias..nice and tired and our rooms were great and comfy and a good night sleep zzzzzzz…

Up early..lets get to water edge , at end of grass and playground. Just in time to watch the pink sun ray, then the first touch on top of the mountain and then on the water as a gold carpet. Do you get to see such a sunrise that often? not likely. Then to breakfast, and they already know to set a table for me at the window to see out, at the beautiful gardens and lawns and the peaceful Sea of Galilee. And to look at the food, and colorful paintings on the walls. A large variety of cheeses, creams, herrings, salads, eggs, yogurts, breads and more..and we are able to take-away some for later. All the staff in dining room make the usual fuss about “The man who scoots all around Israel”.

Often there are many groups of university students or school groups as well as tourists from all over the world, and I always make a new friend at breakfast table and in the gardens.


And breakfast time is usually a hubbub of planning, choosing and eating, chatting, and “lets go.”

Eaten enough? Let US go..our first stop about 200 meters away is an archeological dig and looks fantastic in early morning sunlight..take a few pics and read the history while I tell you..where we will be going..

and NOW I have changed my mind (again) and we will drive past a few important places.. and will head straight into Tiberias and visit the home of the richest Jewish woman in history. I visited DONA GRACIA, and drank tea in the home of the richest Jewish woman in history. A quick lead up to how this came about:

On my first scooter-visit to Tiberias, some years ago, I knew nothing about the place and I needed some maps from the Info Center. I found the Youth hostel in the center of Tiberias, where I would stay for a couple of nights, and after dropping off my stuff, I began scooting around. I asked the first person I saw “where is the Info Center?” He told me “up the road, around the corner in a building called Dona Gracia Hotel”.That wasn’t the (tourist) Info. that I wanted, BUT it was INFO. Mainly for traveling to other countries, and it was on the top floor of the hotel. The entire floor is a new, very large area for many travel agents, where each agency had a desk and a couple of phones and a computer and a couple of chairs, and it had just opened that morning, and was a busy hive of activity! The very busy man in charge of this “move-in” made time to explain to me about this communal travel-agent set-up, and he gave me a cup of coffee and some brochures and answered a couple of my questions. Then, he needed to carry on organizing.

On my way out, in the lobby that was undergoing renovations, I asked at the reception and was told “this is a hotel”…I noticed some people sitting in a very plush area having refreshments while listening to a pianist. MY assumption at that moment was, “its expensive”…and I left. I found the tourist info and received maps and brochures to last a lifetime. As the years flew by, I visited Tiberias several times and often scooted past the hotel..without giving it a second glance.

On a recent visit to that area, and staying over at Kare Deshe Youth Hostel…the receptionist asked me “have you visited the museum inside the Dona Gracia Hotel”? I hadn’t, so immediately I scooted the few kilometers to the hotel, and was told at reception, that the “English tour is at 10-00 a.m. tomorrow morning”. After breakfast I returned and I was given a tour..never to be forgotten.

And NOW this story begins…

What a surprise when I returned, the manager remembered me from those years ago, and welcomed me. First a coffee and some time remembering our first meeting..and he listened to my travel stories. He organised an “English tour,” and I was taken on a personal guided tour with many explanations. Through some of the rooms and dining room with this incredible dining table and 26 chairs and furniture and ornaments from when Dona Gracia lived in the building.

Among the many features is the display of dolls, exquisitely dressed in clothing of the time and also many posters on the walls with stories in English. After the guided tour, I slowly strolled through the entire museum, and spent a few excellent hours reading the posters. I was invited to sit in the plush lounge, and drank tea and ate cookies while listening to the pianist and then I was taken into a showroom and “fitted out ” in an outfit of the time.

(yes this pic is of me..the musician.)

When larger groups visit, many visitors are dressed up in these exquisite costumes and a marvelous, merry time is had by all..while parading around the lounges and enjoying free tea and coffee and cookies. There is much to see and many questions to ask. And staff members will gladly give explanations and answers. A never-to-forget experience. (A side comment from me: I mentioned this wonderful experience to 2 crotchety men from Tel Aviv who I vaguely knew..and later they told me that they “saw everything” in a visit of less than one hour??… Oh Boy!

I could provide many more personal descriptions, but I suggest you visit the website: http://www.donagracia.com/DonaGracia/DonaHouse/english/malon_sipur.htm# And when you are in Tiberias…this is “a must-visit” and remember to wear comfortable walking shoes and don’t forget your camera.

So we have relaxed away the whole morning and now lets go to our next serious visit.. so while we drive there I’ll fill you in

Okay..I know we all had too many cookies at Dona Gracia, and what an experience ? NOW we’re gonna shoot past a few places of interest without even a glance and we get to Kibbuts Ginossar.

When I first began my scootering, I often asked the people that I occasionally “had a coffee with”, about some info on places and things ?..and I received from a “Mr Know-it-All / MR KNOW-NOTHING”… that “GINNOSAR”…is an expensive hotel with an expensive restaurant and everything expensive..so thats how the information entered my head..and stayed there.

One day while scootering in the Tiberias area I saw a tiny sign “Ginnosar —>” and I rode into the complex. After a couple of hundred meters I saw the hotel building on the right side, with beautiful lawns and pool and gardens..and a large car park with many buses and all sorts of vehicles, and many people sitting on the lawns around the pool. Directly in front of me, another big modern building that “at a glance” I thought would be a “new” hotel.

So I remembered, “its expensive, why waste time?”.. and began the ride out. I thought again, “what the hell ?, I’m here..let me have a look”..and I made the BEST U-TURN ever. The big new building is the Yigal Alon Museum (Man in the Galilee), and at reception I was welcomed and given brochures.

The most pleasant lady invited me to sit in the cafeteria and drink a coffee while explaining to me how best to wander through the museum, and watch the videos and see exhibits and photos and art exhibitions..and never-ending things of interest, with many written explanations on posters, as well as beautiful views through large picture-windows. I spent several valuable hours wandering around in a sequence, and my eyes opened wider at every turn, with the marvelous exhibits always in air-conditioned areas and with places to sit. The bonus at the end of my long walk around, was being shown the “Jesus boat ” exhibit in this specially built and temperature-controlled hall with many pictures and videos about the discovery http://www.sacred-destinations.com/israel/galilee-jesus-boat.htm

While having another coffee and snack, I noticed a large group of soldiers who had come to visit this important museum. I visited the large well-stocked gift shop, and I knew that every future trip I would pop in for a visit. The gardens and walkways outside have many sculptures and beautiful views of the Lake Kinerret
On the way out I stopped at the hotel and had a lovely chat with the receptionist, who also sat with me in the delightful coffee shop and told me some “things”; that the hotel is usually fully booked every Friday for Israelis who leave home for a one-night weekend. Also tourists from all around the world spend some days in the beautiful surroundings..(so much for the wrong comment from “Mr. Know-nothing”).

The kibbutz is situated on the Kinerret (Sea of Galilee) and the water laps right up to the lawns. I have been lucky to see the high water after good rains, and also the low water period when the water would end a few hundred meters out. I scooted through the kibbutz and as usual there were always some people to answer my questions as they go about their lives. I “found” the reservations office; a small kibbutz-style house made into a few offices and staffed by kibbutz members, casually dressed and without pomp-and-ceremony, invited me to drink tea while they prepared a variety of brochures for me.

There is also a popular restaurant close to the filling station at the main entrance..and some industries in the “industrial area” of the Ginnosar kibbutz. As always, have comfortable walking shoes and camera at the ready. I have, to date, visited several times and am always welcomed as “the man with the scooter is here”! And there are new art exhibitions …and for me…never a moment of boredom.

Okay we’re here, at the museum, and have had our intro at reception.. so take your time wandering around at your own speed and we have several hours, so no hurry to “be on the bus in 20 minutes”. And after that few excellent and tiring hours we return to Kare Deshe and have something to eat in the cafeteria and soon to sleep zzzzzzzzzz (be prepared for the next day from early morn to another few places…)

Please feel free to email me louisdrinkingt@013.net

Louis the Scooterer is 69 years old and it sounds like he’s just getting started.

First Glimmer

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By Gregory Nuber

I have a water colored memory of a particular summer day when I was eight or nine years old. It was probably very hot and I must have spent the morning swimming and fighting and playing with my younger sister. On a typical day lunch might be followed by an afternoon of errands with Mom- my hair damp and smelling of chlorine, the air conditioned car a cool refuge from the oppressive, baking heat. This day was not typical. Lunch was followed by a bath, fresh, damp hair was neatly combed and we were chauffeured by Mom (for this was to become her major, practical function in my life) across town to the home of an elderly lady named Flossie McCoy. She was the organist at our church and although I did not know her well, I knew that sometimes the music she played before and after services brought a strange feeling to my gut.

We walked from the cool of Mother’s car through the heat of the afternoon into Ms. Flossie’s serene and welcoming home. We were probably offered a glass of water – perhaps iced tea or lemonade. Mother and Sister settled comfortably into a sofa, Flossie into her familiar hard-backed chair and I, with only slight trepidation, took my place on the smooth, black lacquered bench that felt good on my sun-drenched legs.

“This is a piano,” began Ms. Flossie. “It has eighty-eight keys, fifty-two white and thirty-six black.” My large, hazel eyes probably became even bigger at this point and I began to feel that strange feeling in my gut. I still didn’t know what this feeling was all about. It was an intense pang of yearning, excitement, possibility, fear – a dense composite of thoughts and feelings that moved around inside me like a swarm of bees. I knew what a piano was – we had one at home and I had often pounded out discordant rhythms with passionate abandon, or meticulously picked out simple, familiar tunes. I also knew that some people had the magical ability to draw forth real music from the piano and some of that music made my gut feel strange.

“Right in front of you heart is a key we call ‘middle-C’”. My heart. “It is a home- a safe place and a point of references with a world of possibilities on either side. Is home. “Let’s begin by placing the thumb of your right hand on ‘middle-C’. Your thumb is one and the other four fingers are two, three, four and five. That is all you need to create music.” I was intrigued. Flossie began calling out finger numbers, I began to play, and my Mother sat on the sofa and beamed at my crude rendition of the holiday standard “Jingle Bells”. I was concentrating so hard that when I was through I had no idea what I had just played. Mother commented that it made her think of cold winter days, and what a nice thought that was on a hot summer day. Flossie laughed in agreement, and I became impatient because I still didn’t know what I had played.

“Tell me the numbers again,” I demanded. I needed to know what I was playing. I needed to recognize it and at the same time be cognizant of what I was doing. I wanted the ability to create the music independently without the numeric prompting of my teacher. I was less than five minutes into my first piano lesson and already filled with an intense desire that I had always possessed but had just accessed. I was beginning to understand what the strange sensation in my gut was all about. This was perhaps the first cathartic moment of my young life. I knew that I was given a gift- the chance to learn something that would make me feel special and whole. Although I did not know it at the time, I had just stepped on the path that led toward my future.

Gregory Nuber moved to NYC in July of 1992 from Arizona State University where he was pursuing his MFA in Modern Dance. He immediately began studying on scholarship at the David Howard Dance Center and soon landed his first professional contract with Michael Mao Dance. Pascal Rioult Dance Theatre (now RIOULT (re-you) and finally the world-renown Mark Morris Dance Group. Gregory also played Lord Capulet in Frances Patrele’s full length Romeo and Juliet and danced in the pick-up companies Matthew Nash Music and Dance and Jonathan Appels. A member of Actors’ Equity Association, Mr. Nuber has performed professionally in regional productions of West Side Story, Fiddler on the Roof and Cinderella.

Is Ballet Humane?

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By Leda Meredith

Today one of the young student dancers I rehearsal direct in a Nutcracker production came up to me and pointed to her right foot. A bad blister had bled through her tights and through her pointe shoe. She looked up at me with wide eyes and a well-trained ballet-school smile and asked if it was okay if she did the run-thru on flat. I said yes, the other ballet mistress said no. She kept the shoes on. During the run through, I heard, “Smile, girls, it’s Nutcracker not a tragedy!” shouted at the dancers. I looked at Susan’s foot. Her shoe was red with blood. She was smiling.

This is complicated. There are times when I think a dancer does need to perform despite bleeding blisters and such. When the curtain is going up and there is no understudy, for example. On the other hand, if this were foreign policy rather than ballet I’d say it was utterly inhumane.

I think ballet is beautiful. The ancient Chinese bound women’s feet because they thought small feet were beautiful. What did those women think? My ballet students are willing to put up with real physical and psychological pain in pursuit of beauty. Is it worth it? Is there an alternative way to get to the beauty without the torture? Are we willing to break with tradition to investigate what that way might be?

In a recent dinner conversation with Cynthia Gregory, she mentioned that during her performing career she was very protective of her body. For example, she would let whoever was running the rehearsal know that she could only do one full-out one through. This was not laziness, but a guarded attention to what her instrument could handle. She had no major injuries during her remarkable career.

Sometimes dancers abuse this principle. “I have to mark this run thru because the floor is slippery” (when it isn’t), “I can’t do the lifts today because my back is bad” (when it isn’t). Directors are sometimes right to be skeptical of dancers claiming physical excuses not to perform full out.

But then there is Susan with her bleeding feet at a rehearsal when it won’t make or break the show if she does the run thru on pointe or not. Given enough longevity, professional dancers learn how to make this call for themselves: yes, I can do this and it won’t injure me and it’s necessary vs. no, this would actually injure me and/or isn’t really necessary. But what are we teaching our dance students?

“Smile, girls, smile!” Right. Maybe that needs some rethinking.

Leda Meredith is the author of “Botany, Ballet, & Dinner from Scratch” (Heliotrope Books 2008). She is the winner of the 2007-2008 Teaching Excellence Award from Adelphi University. For more, go to www.ledameredith.com

Photo: Leda Meredith and Jonathan Riseling in Francis Patrelle’s “Macbeth”, Photo Credit: Eduardo Patino

Burning Salt Water For Fuel, Is It Possible?

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By Jeremy Baldwin

Before you go to work today remember to fill the fuel tank with water and add a bit of salt. Check the charge on the battery and you’re ready to go.Stop at the flower shop on the corner, you know, where the gas station used to be, and pick up a bouquet for the office.

Sound too good to be true…well, it could be just around the corner.

A new technology that burns salt water as fuel discovered by John Kanzius could revolutionize the transportation and electrical generating industry. Burning oil, gas and coal could become the technology of the past. John Kanzius discovered that if he took the radio frequency transmitter being used as a non invasive treatment for cancer and focused it at a test tube of salt water… the salt water would burst into flame and burn with a fire so hot it melted the test tube. Of course, he was trying to desalinate sea water, not burn it up and melt the tube, but that is serendipity, mother of all great discoveries…

No, this is not a joke…it is true…tried and tested by independent researchers all over the world…it is true.

Salt water… bursts into flame…3000 degree flame…. melts test tube…

Go ahead, read it again and let it sink in…It took me several times to get my brain wrapped around the idea. How,you say,how is this possible? Like all great discoveries it seems so simple once you know the answer…Why didn’t I think of that?…as you smack yourself on the forehead with the palm of your hand.

Ok.. this is how it works…ahhh…why it works… whatever… On a molecular level salt water is formed of atoms of hydrogen, oxygen, sodium and chlorine. The radio waves of a certain frequency disrupt the bonds between those molecules liberating the hydrogen as free gas which burns hotly in the presence of the oxygen…over 3000 degrees…that is a lot of heat… Oh yes, ahem…no carbon footprint… Isn’t that clever?

US Department of Energy and Department of Defense officials were scheduled to meet with scientists on September 10, 2007 to discuss the discovery and the possibility of research funding. Rustum Roy, Ph.D., a founding member of Penn State University’s Materials Research Institute, and expert in water structure leads the team.

Is it possible we can replace oil with salt water? This may have been something that you never knew about and never expected but it may be here soon.

Go figure…

This article from Jeremy Baldwin was syndicated through newezinearticles.com