Driving home yesterday, listening to Radio 4, I heard of something far more frightening than bird flu, potentially more devastating than peak oil. We're running out of phosphorus, an element necessary for human life.
At present consumption rates, the world's supply will be depleted in 100 years.
Is anyone on this? I mean, this could mean the end of life on earth! There is no substitute for phosphorus, the woman being interviewed said, since it's a basic element. The only option is to recycle what we have.
From there, the discussion turned to manure, and I have to admit I tuned out, too busy wondering about the implications to pay attention. My daughter, too, was alarmed. She'd probably feel no effects of the shortage, but will her children survive in a phosphorus-free world? Or their children? Will there be a rush on the remaining supplies, with large nations gobbling up phosphorus-rich territory? "No blood for phosphorus" doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?
Then last night, we watched The War of the Worlds. None of the special effects seemed particularly nasty (although Tim Robbins scared my pants off). I guess the prospect of alien invasion pales when one understands how truly fleeting is the presence of human life on earth.
So, forget recycling your plastic bags. What we really need is to figure out how to recycle our shit. Which is why I think my dog might be smarter than she appears.
