Well, whoopidy bloody doop.
Yet another one of those obscure demi-gods of moral superiority has fallen off Mount Olympus and after tumbling down the five thousand or so feet of it, and discovering some basic humanity at the bottom, inadvisedly opened their mouth because of it, got canned out of some think-alike-or-else think tank he’d been in for over twenty years, and there’s a few people wandering around believing we’re somehow expected to feed him a few sugar lumps in grateful appreciation of him finally seeing the light. Let the Heavens rejoice, one sinner repenteth, returning home to the Lord, hosanna in the highest etc etc.
I wouldn’t mind giving him some lumps meself, but they wouldn’t be particularly sugary ones.
He’s at last realised all those wonderful policies to save the Earth for future generations are actually killing quite a number of people right now, and if you kill enough people right now, there will be a lot less of those future generations anyway. Makes a sort of geometric sequence sense, dunnit? It’s a bit like compound interest but in reverse and we’re talking about human lives here, rather than units of currency. Not pounds, not pennies, but people. Perspiring methane-farting people, even the wimmen.
In the main, they’re what I suppose the politically correct would term integumentaly challenged people. That actually means their butts are black but there’s a few tan and supposedly yellowish ones in the mix. A bit risqué, that crack, but then again, my dander is up and pointing at someone, anyone, a nerve has been touched. Nobody in the climate wars wants to talk about them; los invisibles, the people actually dying needlessly as a result of style, pose, primp and pimp politics.
It’s so much easier to kill each other over two or three bloody tree rings or two rings or even one ring in a Micky Mannian sense, squiggly equations and those silly gawd-awful boring tiresome graphs. Of course not; humans are never the point of the exercise. It’s one of those great arguments that can feed away on itself quite nicely without messy complications like real sweaty lives, so thank you Pointy and now get off the fecking soapbox. Oh Jeremiah, by the walls of Babylon I knelt and wept.
I don’t even talk about those poor wretches myself because I know a steady diet of them every week on this blog would be a complete turn off, a no sale. It’s boring man, so play the clever intellectual, caper around, do a handstand, a cartwheel or two. They’re exactly what this whole blog is about but because of an understandable ignorance of them and what can only be termed poverty fatigue, I attack what’s upstream of their troubles in the hope it might do enough damage to one of the root causes of their slowmo and untimely expiration dates. Now, that’s a bloody great euphemism; untimely expiration dates – it’s amazing what rage can pluck out of you when you attack a keyboard.
It’s my own little personal plan to fight back. There’s only me so the strategy has to be something gradual and long-term with a few submerged torpedo hits well below the water line, or even below the belt whenever I can find the slightest glimmer of a hope of a chink in the armour. There’s enough people discombobulating (how many meanings does that new Blackadder word have?) the science, so I gnaw away on killing the political theory, what there is of it, behind the cult. Eventually, after a few years, that might result in some relief for some humans. It might save a few of those pickaninny babies. You never know, what the hell, miracles can happen.
We’re fortunate enough to live in the rich fat lard-arsed part of the world and so many elements of it seem determined that the part of humanity that so desperately needs our rich fat lard-arsed help should stay in some pastoral idyll, which in reality is to say; massive child mortality rates, short lifespans, childbirth being a life-threatening experience, famine, starvation, no education, women as breed cows, men no better than animals grubbing into the earth for all they’re worth with their bare hands, just to produce meagre crops to keep their families alive, and that’s only if the rains might be good to them this year.
Ignore all that. That sort of stuff is just my anger talking. It’s just me and the mad howling dawg inside me escaping the leash for a rant. It’s outta my system, I’m feeling a lot better now. However, I do have a question for him.
Just where the hell have you been for the last two decades or so?
I mean, when you see people in the developing world dying of things like Malaria, which we got rid of over half a century ago, surely it must have occurred to you at some point we did it without the predicted environmental Armageddon in our world? For God’s sake, malaria has killed more people than anything else in human history. Come on. You’re a professor, you’re the beneficiary of a great education who’s supposed to be perceptive enough to teach developing minds.
I know. You’ve never failed to be on the higher moral ground on any issue, but how’d you miss this one? Environmentalism might possibly be saving the Earth but it’s definitely killing our most helpless and defenceless people right now. It’s bloody massive, murderously massive. Could it possibly be that in your striving for style, you’ve finally arrived at a truly contrarian and genuinely unfashionable viewpoint that you’re not getting a big round of applause for? Did you get a surprise? You’re no longer a part of the in club, you’re in the out club, an outsider, or dare I say it; no better than a holocaust denier.
Is the ground zero here that you’ve either finally understood what was plainly in front of you to see for decades, or you saw it all along but out of moral cowardice have held your tongue until now. Which one was it I wonder, a good old-fashioned determination not to see or just a straight forward reluctance to take a real bullet?
I’ll take in a defector any day, if only for their propaganda value, but don’t you ever expect me to roll over and curl up my little toesies in pleasure at you being one of the rodents bright enough to start jumping off a badly holed ship that’s already listing heavily to port. The likes of you can stay on it for all I care.
At least have the guts to go down with it, but failing that, don’t expect me to start fêting you for abandoning ship. Just quietly slip overboard and paddle away into obscurity, like all the rest of the rats have been doing of late.
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