I guess I don’t really get it. Nimby, or nimbyism that is. I mean I get that the pristine mountain ridge, the amber waves of grain and the wine dark sea are most lovely when unadulterated -- no houses, factories, power lines or wind turbines. What I don’t get is that the visual price of wind turbines on the top of our ridge, across the expanse of our prairie or on the horizon of our sea is seen as greater than the price of their West Virginian ridges with their tops removed for coal production or those rolling lawns dotted with white crosses from defending access to oil reserves or their beaches fouled and their seas slick with oil spilled from depths.
