Eco-porn. This is a wildly accusing term. It hits me broadside, making me self conscious of treating my whole existence, not to mention nature, like some kind of blow-up doll. Your example would seem to suggest that things could be otherwise, as in the Kenneth Boulding quote at your dad’s site, but my reigning truth is that the wholesale destruction of nature matters little to me in comparison with my blind need for immediate, and very local, comfort. I admire eco-warriors, but my psyche is way too fragile for that role. Any vision I might gain of a fixed course towards improving my actions vanishes in the daily storm of anxiety, a coup by the id.

Once again, your eco-ethical rigor takes me by surprise.