Environmentalists hate people. Homo sapiens are the enemies of nature and it doesn’t matter if your family has been hereditary farmers or ranchers for generations, there is always some dirty Greenpeace hippie armed with a flatulently inflated pseudo-degree in eco-busy-body-ology that considers you a criminal if your livelihood is a danger to the existence of some mutated dung beetle.
The mentality of these enviro-weenies, who wouldn’t even know how to feed an air fern, is: “I have a college degree, still live in the basement of my parent’s house, but I am an ‘eco-expert.’ What could some yahoo farmer possibly tell me about raising free-range tofurkeys?”
Six weeks ago when I began this series on the U.S. government-induced drought of the farmlands in the San Joaquin Valley, I had a U.S. Fish and Wildlife public relations flack — Steve Martarano — respond to my initial article within six hours after it hit the newsstands. Folks, as a famous nobody I’m lucky if my local detractors harangue me within six days after I publish. Anyway, Mr. Martarano made a feeble attempt to school me on the relative merits of putting farm workers into food lines through a series of op-ed pieces which were written by global warming-friendly columnists that downplayed the importance of the people who grow our food over a near extinct minnow that has an indiscernible earthly merit.
I indulged Mr. Martarano with my customarily impolite demeanor which I reserve for unctuously lazy bureaucrats and informed him that while he was decidedly full of crap, I was also exuberantly grateful that he chose to recognize that I was obviously game to the enviro-con job which he was tasked to disseminate and that I couldn’t buy that kind of public recognition. Never forget that the grand-daddy of the “public relations” industry was Josef Goebbels who believed that the best lies are usually the biggest ones told over and over again. It’s what has made Al Gore half-a-billion dollars richer.
But, there is good news! Is it an inconvenient truth that in order to bribe two recalcitrant Democrat congressmen, Dennis Cardoza and Jim Costa, into voting for ObamaCare, the Department of Interior announced on March 16 that it was graciously increasing the Central Valley’s water ration despite a federal judge’s court order? I guess the survival of the delta smelt or obeying the law isn’t very important even if you have to hold farm workers hostage to pass an unpopular partisan healthcare bill.
One evening, over scorched red meat, cigars and single-malt scotch with my son Nathan and fellow columnist Dave Alsabery, we expounded upon the concept of “Schrodinger’s Fetish.” This “fetish” has its roots in the paradoxical thought experiment of Austrian physicist Erwin Schrodinger’s infamously imaginary “cat in a box” whereby, according to quantum mechanics applied to everyday objects, that a cat in a box might be alive or dead depending on an earlier entangling random event.
When this thought experiment is applied to the global warming fetishists of enviro-dorkdom, one could only reasonably conclude that environmentalism’s intellectual life or death is dependent on earlier entangling random events such as the leaked Climategate e-mails, the IPCC’s retreat from several of their key global warming positions and Greenpeace leader, Gerd Leipold, admitting that Greenpeace has lied and exaggerated about global warming and melting polar ice caps regardless of Milankovitch’s spank-me-Daddy solar calculations to the contrary.
Meanwhile, the Chicken Littles of environmental doom and gloom are running around and spewing stupid, not only from the lowliest clipboard cuckhold standing outside of Starbucks, but into the rarefied air of corporate America.
Ted Turner, owner of CNN (Commie News Network) and global warming Pimp-asaurus Rex claimed two years ago during a PBS interview that, “Not doing [anything] will be catastrophic. We’ll be eight degrees hotter in 10, not 10, but 30 or 40 years and basically none of the crops will grow. Most of the people will have died and the rest of us will be cannibals.”
Yes, folks, you are destined to be cannibals if you don’t recycle your trash into the proper receptacles or drive a Prius. But if we’re doomed to be dinner, Michael Moore or Rosie O’donnell would be considered the main entree at any Hometown Buffet … for weeks!
Speaking of whale sushi, why is that Santa Monica’s moral relativity rears its head over a few pounds of whale meat while celebrating to sacramental levels a few pounds of locally aborted baby fetuses? It’s a simple demonstration of liberalism’s faux-rage and moral equivalency that dead whales are more important than dead babies.
Or as Ted Turner might intone, “Save the whales, be a cannibal.”
Steve Breen thinks The Hump got a raw deal and is still “the best looking retired mailman in the U.S. Post Office.” He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or at his new office at the Library Ale House on Main Street.