The narrative on Global Warming, Climate Crisis, Climate Change, et al. has evolved yet again. It is now (drum roll please) about pollution. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen; we are no longer concerned with just CO2.
We are concerned with all the things at or near CO2 that can or should be called pollution. Obama B-Reels come to mind.
Let us travel back a few decades to better grasp the pollution pivot to a time when we were supposed to die of starvation while freezing to death (but were still aerosol abusing apes not yet aware of the hole we were burning in the Ozone).
A simpler time.
Remember the commercial with the American Indian on the side of the road? It alternated with the one about not touching blasting caps, or maybe it was that American Heart association Ad about not smoking—’Like Father like son–think about it.’ Some car drives down a stretch of highway and casually tosses some garbage out the window.
It is serious kitchen trash in a paper bag. The kind everyone in the seventies used to tote around for miles and miles on a hot summer day in a dark-colored sedan.
So this garbage lands roadside at the feet of this ‘American’ Indian walking up to the interstate in full native gear.
Cut to the American Indian’s face, a tear leaking from one tired-looking eye draws a moist trail across his weathered cheek.
Replace the Indian with Al Gore’s corpulent frame. He’s wearing Bermuda shorts and has a pinkie ring. Except Al isn’t sad. He’s smiling, pockets bursting with cash. And he has a fist full of freshly minted carbon credits for the heathen ozone hole destroying, incandescent light bulb using masses.
And yes, he is wearing white tube socks with sandals. Ta-da! AGW is reborn as an Anthropogenic-Global-Climate-Warming-Pollution-Crisis. Limited time offer, call before the name changes back to AGW—Al’s Grifted Winnings of just Al Gore Warming is fine.
I’m not kidding. The left-wingers are already out hawking their new “wares.” It’s all about pollution. At least that’s what it likely said in the email they got from Obama For America a few weeks back.
Pollution? OK.
When can I get rid of the environmental hazard, mercury-filled, brain-destroying, poison curly-cue light bulbs the government-mandated?
And I get where Mad as a Hatter comes from, but Mad as an Electrician? Mad as the lighting guy at Lowes? Mad as the disgruntled hardware department guy at Wal-Mart with bedhead and ill-fitting trousers?
It’s got no panache, you know. And mad as a suburban housewife isn’t unsurprising. But those bulbs, well, they kind of suck.
And does this mean that America can start drilling for oil again and open some new refineries? ANWR and OCS are calling our name. And given how much cleaner our process is, we could cut the “pollution” we’re suddenly all concerned about five or six-fold in less than a few years if we just dug up our own oil and made our own gas instead of waiting for Venezuela, or the rest of OPEC to find it and ship it to us for top dollar.
No. See, they don’t like logic. It pisses them off. But then these weirdos will drive the Smart Car, so the idea of flying across the Atlantic on battery power from 500 trillion dollars worth of taxpayer-subsidized windmills might work for them.
Of course, it’s not really about pollution. It’s about power. Not electricity, power. Political power. Nanny state power.
I think it’s time we address the very nature of the evolving narrative on the scam that is global warming, that the changing narrative is in and of itself a ‘sign’ that this is all a load of crap.
You see, these warming-denier-deniers, these lazy-Susan, term-de jour enviro-Mental warriors, are like cheating husbands, or maybe four-year-olds. Or maybe more like the four-year-olds of a cheating husband. They change their story repeatedly in hopes of finding something, anything, to get you (or perhaps them) to ignore the obvious truth that they have nothing to support their claim but their desire to convince you to support it.
And after that, their lives have no meaning.
Please. I don’t believe in God. I’m a cold empty shell. Warm me with thermal heat from our Earth mother. And we’ve got so much of your money invested in this scam already we can’t turn back now.
Umm, yes, actually we can, and we will.
Take your revolving narrative and stuff it up your Prius while I buy some incandescent light bulbs.
And when Al Gore is in chains serving 30 years to life for perpetrating the single biggest racketeering scam in history, I’ll invite you over for bacon-cheeseburgers cooked on my gas grill.
