Not In My Back Yard
No surprise here that the party of namby-pamby is the party of nimby:
The Obama administration signaled a sudden urgency yesterday to resolve the nine-year dispute over building a wind farm off Cape Cod, as US Interior Secretary Ken Salazar announced he would summon key parties to a meeting next week in hope of concluding the decision process within two months.
The announcement was made minutes after the Cape Wind project appeared to suffer an unexpected setback, when the National Park Service agreed with two Native American tribes that Nantucket Sound is eligible to be listed on the National Register of Historic Places because of its cultural and spiritual significance to the tribes.
The decision caught many by surprise, because listing in the Register, which affords extra protection against development, is normally reserved for structures or smaller, more specific locations.
Yeah, I wondered where they got that idea (false modesty very much regretted):
Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) says she plans to introduce legislation today to establish two national monuments on roughly 1 million acres of Mojave Desert outback that is home to bighorn sheep and desert tortoises, extinct volcanoes, sand dunes and ancient petroglyphs.
Its centerpiece, Mojave Trails National Monument, would prohibit development on 941,000 acres of federal land and former railroad company property along a 105-mile stretch of old Route 66, between Ludlow and Needles.
…
Some congressional Republicans accused Feinstein of engaging in a not-in-my-back-yard campaign when her plans for legislation restricting renewable energy projects in California deserts surfaced earlier this year.
Feinstein must be smacking her forehead and saying “Injuns! Why didn’t I think of injuns!”
Declaring scrub land like this as a national monument is an audaciously hopeful idea:

So it’s dead certainty that this vista should be off limits as well:

Look, build your [bleeping] windmills or don’t, capture the sun’s mother[bleeping] power or not. I don’t give a [bleep]. Just don’t get between me and the next mahogany log I’m about to throw on the fire—and don’t… waste… my… [bleeping]… time.



