Making sense of sewage sludge as a renewable resource in the urban U.S.

Prior to industrialization, human excrement was commonly employed as a resource for agricultural fertilization. Following the advent of the hydraulic sanitation system, however, it became increasingly channeled into waterways rather than reincorporated into terrestrial agro-ecosystems. To counter this trend, more and more industrial cities are seeking to utilize treated sanitation waste, or “biosolids,” as a renewable resource that can be applied as a soil amendment in urban recreational settings, including parks, gardens, and golf courses. This article examines how the use of biosolids in the American city of Chicago comes to “make sense”—experientially, economically, and ecologically—to users and wastewater experts. Furthermore, it considers how sanitation infrastructures, social norms, and safety concerns both contour and constrain such usage. Ultimately, this article identifies how direct sensorial experiences (particularly of odors or their absence) as well as notions of economic and ecological “good sense” contribute to the social acceptability of biosolids usage. However, contaminants of emerging concern that are barely perceptible in sanitation waste raise more profound questions about the challenges of urban sustainability in this period known as late industrialism.

Following The Milky Way Path of Souls

Cahokia was a major Native American city on the east side of the Mississippi River, across from the modern-day city of St. Louis, Missouri. Cahokia flourished from c.1050 AD to c.1250. In this paper archaeoastronomic and ethnohistoric data along with computer simulations are used to explore the idea that the Cahokia site axis and the Rattlesnake Causeway were intentionally aligned to the Milky Way. It is proposed that this alignment accounts for the peculiar 5° offset of the site from the cardinal directions. Following Sarah Baires, it is suggested that Rattlesnake Causeway was a terrestrial metaphor for the Milky Way Path of Souls used by the deceased to cross to the Land of the Dead. Rattlesnake Mound at the end of the Causeway is suggested as a portal to the Path of Souls. According to ethnohistoric accounts, the Land of the Dead was guarded by a Great Serpent – suggested here as visible in the night sky as either the constellation Serpens or that of Scorpius.

Godzilla (1998) as camp de-extinction narrative

Godzilla is one of the most famous de-extinct monsters in global popular cinema. Fan loyalty to the original Toho Studios conception of the creature as a super-powered, dinosaur-like creature helps explain the negative response to Roland Emmerich’s 1998 Hollywood version, which re-imagines Godzilla as a giant, irradiated twentieth-century iguana. Emmerich’s film is plotted around the monster’s attempt to use subterranean New York City as a spawning ground. The creature lays eggs that later hatch into baby Godzillas that look suspiciously like Jurassic Park-style velociraptors. Indeed, the movie plays like an expanded version of the last twenty minutes of The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997): a dinosaur-like creature runs amok in a major American city and is eventually defeated by a plan involving its offspring. Emmerich’s Godzilla is famous for being ‘Godzilla in name only’, yet its extensive intertextuality with The Lost World foregrounds de-extinction themes and imagery. Furthermore, Godzilla (1998) emphasises human action - in this case, 1950s French nuclear tests in French Polynesia - as the cause of the mutant creature’s emergence. Humans causing de-extinction is a key feature of the entire Godzilla franchise and of similar creature features from the 1950s to the present. Akin to its 1950s predecessors, Godzilla’s light, intentionally (and sometimes unintentionally) comedic tone open it to camp readings of the kind analysed by Bridgitte Barclay, who writes that the narrative and aesthetic shortcomings of schlocky sf B movies ‘disengage the audience from the filmic world and expose the mechanics of storytelling, making the master narrative a story and thereby resisting it by showing it as such’. Godzilla does just that, deflating its own anthropocentrism and rampant pro-militarism via its blatantly derivative story, shoddy digital effects and ham-handed dialogue.