Back in the ‘80s someone thought it wise to turn a script about two futuristic buccaneers rescued from a criminal sentence involving castration on a quest to find a legendary water planet into a feature length film.
Well, make that “movie.” The word “film” implies a little more craft.
For those wise enough to have skipped “The Ice Pirates,” the flick — there, that’s it — takes place in an age so short of water that the source of life has become a pricey commodity. Even the robot pimp the good guys encounter accepts only water or gold for services at his establishment. The critic site Rotten Tomatoes lists a woeful 11 percent audience approval rating, although other sites are a little more generous.
I must admit, however grudgingly, that I watched The Ice Pirates four or five times, sharing it with as many friends as possible.
For some reason I’m no longer in touch with many — any, to be more precise — acquaintances from those days.
Yet with the ongoing drought causing reductions, fines, threats of price increases and all manner of finger pointing, the idea of water as a scarce commodity is beginning to sink in. For the first time in our lives, we are keenly aware that the once-praised almond drains a gallon of water for each nut produced. A few alarmists now call for people to stop buying almonds, as if this will somehow restore aquifers and recharge parched wells. Others blame wealthy celebrities or southern California farmers or companies bottling water.
What surprised me is not that one nut requires one gallon of water to reach grocery shelves. Nor that many people instantly placed blame on anyone but their own group. No, it’s just how much water the economy demands all around.
A tomato, for example, needs three gallons to ripen. A glass of beer — mostly water to start with — consumes four to 10 gallons. If the brewery must ship it some distance, that number climbs considerably. A simple turkey sandwich gobbles up 32 gallons. A slab of steak takes 400 to over 1,000, depending upon the which particular report you pick up.
Yes, that means if you give up turkey sandwiches you can pound more beer. I think.
Certainly the data is not fixed. Some producers find efficiencies that elude others. But the information is startling. That old pair of jeans tucked in my closet reportedly guzzled 900 gallons of water. Tires, shirts, packing material, shoes — it all requires the stuff.
Of course, we drink water throughout the day and in our coffee. But the drought has stirred an accounting of how much we potentially waste. Washing a car — presumably with a good old fashioned garden hose — spills around 50 gallons. Watering the average lawn amounts to 180 gallons. That annoying leaking toilet? Well, that seeps up to 60 gallons per day.
And my plan to cut back on personal water use by downing nothing but whiskey … well, there were two flaws. First, whiskey involves plenty of water in production and transportation. Second, the more logical one in the family nixed the idea rather firmly.
So I’m looking forward to the survival of El Nino, the periodic weather pattern credited with drought busting downpours and now building in the Pacific. The National Weather Service’s Climate Prediction Center now reports a greater than 90 percent chance El Nino will last through fall and an 85 percent chance it will continue through winter.
Of course, El Nino does not always result in heavy rains. But the system, along with attention to water conservation on every level and a plan to deal proactively with future dry spells, may just help ease the drought. Awareness of how we use water is a start. An end to placing blame on one crop, one activity or one group of people will be the next step.
But if The Ice Pirates was right about that planet of water … No, I can’t bear to watch it again.
