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Welcome to the first installment of our year-end awards!
As always, we must begin with a stern warning: this is an incredibly long article. So long you likely won't make it to the end, at least not in one sitting. It is, as it always is, a marathon not a sprint.
Twelve years ago, I wrote about an obscure subject that I felt needed a lot more attention. So I was happy today to see as a lead story on the Politico site a cheerful update to that story. And since I am currently busy as a beaver reviewing the past year in preparation for my year-end awards columns, I thought it would be a good day to revisit an older column (warning: tomorrow might see a rerun column as well).
The obscure subject in question is the mining and production of rare earths. These are elements that used to only have specific uses in consumer products (making television screens that had the reddest of reds, mostly), but these days are essential in all kinds of high-tech equipment, from the phone in your pocket to military jet fighters and missiles.
That title is, of course, a play on words. Just like every other kid who grew up in the Space Age, I have always found space to be rather cool. Watching astronauts walk on the moon is one of my earliest memories, in fact. But if that's truly what I was imparting here -- just an enthusiasm for mankind's forays into the void -- it would have been exclamatory: "Space Rocks!" Instead, it has a more literal meaning, without any verb implied. Because space isn't exactly "full" of rocks wheeling around out there, but there are enough of them that one of them could threaten Earth at some future point. If the space rock was big enough, it could even cause an "extinction-level event," much like the impact which wiped out the dinosaurs. There's even a whole movie genre devoted to the problem: from the 1950s When Worlds Collide to the more-modern Deep Impact and Armageddon to the more recent (and much more cynical) Don't Look Up.