Monday, March 29, 2010

An Elephant, An Ant, And The Punchline,"Did I Hurt You, Darling?"

I meant to post on this jackassery this weekend, but got caught up in domestic stuff (Panthers Girls' Softball win 10-1, meow!) . Not a big deal that I'm two days late, because the event itself was rooty-poot.
Earth hour: WTF is that about?
So, for one hour during the evening, we're supposed to turn off our lights, and presto! change-o! We'll make an impact on man-made global warming, or (now that the "warming" piece isn't working out so well) Man Made Climate Change. Or, if you're an egghead that has to prove your point by establishing unassailable intellectual acumen, Anthropogenic Climate Change. Phooey.
Y'know, even before the whole climate gate thing kicked in, I had some serious doubts about the whole "man-made" global warming spiel. I'm not going to try to document it here, and besides, you can go to Rush Limbaugh to get real citations for 100,001 reasons to throw the bullshit flag. While not a scientist, I'm pretty big on the scientific method and use it as a lens through which to view a lot of life [yuh, my primary lens is the martial arts, no doubt and don't get your panties in an uproar; but check it out, when I'm out on the mats and I've heard about, seen, or experienced a certain tactic or technique, I immediately break out the ol' scientific method: let's see if we can turn this observation into a hypothesis into a theory for the appropriate conduct of close combat through trial and error]. I don't see that from the protagonists of the Global Warming crowd. Do you?
I hear plenty of shrill screams that the science is settled. I hear plenty of "denier" ad hominem attacks. And, most damningly, I hear constant, almost plaintive excuses as to why or how the raw data of the "theory" can't be turned over for independent verification. Huh?
Despite the "elephant/ant" joke alluded to above, the imagery that the hysterical global warming crowd evokes is that of a breech clout-clothed shaman, his hair festooned with peacock feathers and his body whitewashed in a lime-paste coat dragging a screaming, kicking virgin up the volcano in order to throw her in, and thus appease the fire gods and prevent an eruption.
So for our designated time-hack for earth hour, I lit up the house (and a cigar), vacuumed every damn room while I had the kids keeping the laundry wheel spinning, and cooled the house to a nice 61 degrees--oh, and I had all the girls (trading off between folding and loading iterations) run shifts through the shower and had them blow dry/curl/flatten/whatever their hair.
Earth Hour my...pale moon.
Of course, maybe like most people, I don't deserve a vote because I'm too stupid, so democracy should be suspended while my intellectual and moral betters figure out what's good for me--and the planet.


  1. Wait, you...cooled...the house to 61 degrees? Do you know what 61 degrees would do to my HEATING bill?

  2. Br'er Starbuck, three words: Location. Location. Location.
    Don't worry, come July that li'l weather snark on my front page won't be so friggin' funny.