Global Warming isn’t just a god it is an angry god. It is responsible for every bad thing that happens to anyone or anything. It’s true. From Alligators in the Thames to snow in Bhagdad. From more amourous house cats to making the earth spin faster and slower. From heart disease and bald hedgehogs to more women becoming prostitutes. And don’t forget moles destroying Stonehenge.
The cure to Global warming is like Pirelli’s Miracle Elixer except that the government doesn’t ask you to buy it, it makes you pay for it.
Fan’s of Sweeny Todd (I prefer the Len Cariou-Angela Lansbury Broadway original if you care) will know that Pirelli is a con man. A street mountebank. And his magical hair tonic is made from piss. The Global Warming scam is made up of hockey sticks and rent-seekers feeding off bloated bureaucracies suffering from mission creep.
The political class that supports this scheme – and its media allies – have for decades (yes, it has been that long) repeated the ravings of grant recipients feeding at the trough of climate alarmism and New Hampshire was never immune.
We were told that our children would never know snow which children internalized as them never needing to shovel the stuff. Just ask a parent how that’s working out.
The solution was more government and higher electricity prices. I guess it worked.
The budget is higher and electric rates are horrible and getting worse, and not one word of their prophecy has come to pass.
And still, they are not happy. The mountebanks say we need to buy more piss. Piss with ink. And you’d be right to think that in perpetuity. For as long as the mark is willing to fall for the scam the schemers will work them over. Even when the evidence continues to pile up against them. Or does it?
New Hampshire has produced the largest pumpkin ever recorded (surely a sign of the apocalypse) and the Apple crop, another tourism staple, has had a second bumper crop in a row. Are we free or could global warming be to blame for such good fortune?
We can’t say for certain, but I do know this. These things have run in cycles far longer than human existence or their embrace of agriculture so next year (or the year or years after) when the balance of the natural cycle tips the crop the other way someone, probably with a (D) next to their name, will be knocking on your “door” to try and sell you a bottle of piss.
I’d suggest you say no thank you.