After bed time Saturday I left the clock radio on, an NPR affiliate on the dial and its BBC feed in my dreams. I awoke in the middle of a feature called "The Elements" prety certain of dreaming about Helium. Perhaps there were party balloons in the dream. Such an atmosphere was not in the following element, Phosphorous.

It's largely been depleted and the remaining large reserves are basically in the western part of the Sahara. Phosphorous is a major, nay, essential component in fertilization. The soils naturally rich in it, all over the world, have been worked down. The scientists are very concerned, and so am I but I reached over to find the "off" button.

After all, such a time of day. Aren't we wondering about American speed skaters' torpor and the latest talk show shuffle? There is the frisson, well sure, of the west coast drought.

In IMDB I enjoy all reviews, including those films hopefully melted down for plectrums. The "Superman" begat in 1978 had gone on to a number four, pretty close to a double number two nudge wink, and one of the reader reviews commented on a scene in which a Soviet character spoke by phone to an American, daylight outside each office. Yes, the "noon all over the world" gaffe.

No, this elemental broadcast may have been about zero three forty five here when I cut off the unsettling news but in Greenwich it was 11:45 hours. The sun was up on Britain and still dark before dawn on this coast of the Clear Channel/Fox besotted former part of the Empire. The task of finding alternatives to depleting petroleum is a snap compared to doing so for Phosphorous; there simply is no alternative on the horizon.

In our dreams and in our daylight forays, bad news converging all over the world.