As the health care debate nears its climax, it’s only natural to look ahead to the next big political showdown in D.C. — energy reform. It’s an issue with far reaching environmental implications, and one that contemporary society seems hard-pressed to tackle head-on.

Whatever legislation emerges from the Senate, it’s a good bet it will be watered down and ineffectual, owing to the ubiquity of the energy lobby in our nation’s capital. Which begs the question: What can realistically be done to combat the growing carbon specter? Distinguished University of Chicago economist Steven Levitt wondered as much himself, and set out to get some answers.

Pop quiz: What do Glenn Beck and Bill Maher have in common? If you answered with, “They’re both blowhards” ... well, sure. But for the purposes of the present conversation, let’s take a look at these two from another angle. What other similarities might they bear? Well, for starters, they both host news-centered cable television programs. More to the point, they’re both famous for their “colorful” approaches to political commentary. And, most recently, they’ve both urged Americans to reject the new swine flu vaccine.

If you asked someone in the business of business, they would tell you that the business of books is in trouble. Readership is down, profits are way down and Internet retailers are massively screwing with traditional distribution models. The good news is that help is on the way. The bad news is that the savior of literature is Dan Brown.

If you fancy yourself cultivated, there’s a fair chance this suggestion has you all hot and bothered — and not in that good way, like when you read Danielle Steel. But calm down, I’m not suggesting that the guy should win the Pulitzer. Far from it. I fully recognize that Dan Brown sucks.

As a rule, I try as hard as I can to ignore apocalyptic overtures, especially those generated by the media. The “glass half full” philosophy works well for maintaining a happy disposition; but sometimes, especially recently, it can be tough to maintain.

The mainstream media approached the topic of annihilation with renewed vigor this past summer. The uptick in interest is probably attributable to current events: An increasingly polarized and fragmented electorate; a global financial crisis; turmoil in the Middle East; and a nascent pandemic are the kinds of things likely to have people on edge.

But I resist, as much as humanly possible, the urge to declare that the end is nigh.

And you may ask yourself, “How did I get here?”

Talking Heads cliché aside, the sentiment of the above lyric has rung especially true for me over the past week and a half. It hasn’t completely sunk in yet, and I haven’t totally internalized this new state of mind, but I feel the unavoidable truth leering at me through all my best attempts to push it back into the recesses of my consciousness. And I’m not alone. Not by any means.

Close friends and casual acquaintances; classmates I haven’t seen since a writing seminar freshman year: Speaking with others from the class of 2010, I’ve noticed that we all seem to be grappling with the same question, one that continues to confound and alarm us even as we come to terms with the very obvious truth of the matter: