“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” — Hunter S. Thompson
Times have never been weirder here in the land of your Creative Greenius where even the 99 Cent Stores cannot buck the psychological impacts of this virtual recession being experienced by avatars everywhere. Earthquakes, fires, budget deficits and Real Estate that isn’t quite so “real” anymore and no longer feels like any kind of “estate” has harshed our mellow here in the Golden State.
It’s times like these when I invite The Man Who Knows over for a visit. I don’t really want to see him when everything is copacetic because part of what makes the good times so good is not having The Man Who Knows around telling you what you don’t want to hear.
But today’s weirdness calls for some simple truths and The Man Who Knows wasted no time in laying them on me as he lay on my couch.
In case you haven’t been paying attention, climate change is already bringing more fires, more floods, more drought, more erratic weather and the spread of more diseases around the world. Not to mention the spread of poison ivy which is pissing me off,” he muttered as he started exploring the candy dishes on the coffee table.
“All of this bad shit will only continue to get worse until you stop burning the fossil fuels that cause this bad shit – right now,” he warned me, like it was my fault personally. He pointed his well-manicured finger at my heart, “By right now,” he declared,” I don’t mean down the line, I’m not saying in the future, do not hear me saying tomorrow, but understand that I mean right now – TODAY. You grok me, pilgrim?” he asked.
“Well that’s just not going to happen,” I told The Man Who Knows. “We’re not looking to cut back, we’re looking to drill for more oil offshore and in Alaska and in anybody’s backyard where we can sniff some out. A majority of Americans agree and both candidates running for President have endorsed it,” I clued him in, “Even though that offshore oil is ten years or more away, we want it.”
He laughed like some kind of tormented hyena as he found the candy bowl filled with the good stuff. “Drilling for more oil now is like applying anti-itch powder for a skin cancer rash,” said The Man Who Knows as he generously helped himself to some of my dark chocolate covered almonds from Trader Joe’s.
His mouth filled with crunchy-creamy deliciousness he cackled as he chewed, but still sounded ominous, “Dude, I’m telling you that if you are still using oil in ten years the way you do today…” he paused to swallow and then filled his mouth with another full load, before continuing,
“Then you will have sentenced yourselves to the gas chamber that now surrounds the earth. And it will be a classic example of choosing to punish yourself. You don’t actually need a crystal ball to see it coming.
Instead of marching into the gas chamber you’ll make it more modern and convenient by offering the drive-through option with your choice of iPod playlist.”
“That’s crazy,” I told him. “It’s that kind of extreme environmentalist attitude that’s a big part of the problem,” I explained to The Man Who Knows.
“No, Greenius-man you’re wrong,” sang out The Man Who Knows. But he was just getting started. Just warming up as the chocolate and antioxidents gave him renewed energy and vigor.
What is ‘crazy’ is to pump more and more greenhouse gasses into the air with each day while the world’s top scientists all agree that you are already screwing the pooch and dooming your own children and grandchildren,” he preached, starting to get uncomfortably loud.
“What is truly Loony Toons,” he declared in a Foghorn Leghorn baritone, “is to keep delaying and voting against the solar, wind and geothermal renewable solutions that already exist and can save you! But there ain’t nothing ‘extreme’ about replacing the poison gasses that come from the burning of carbon based fuels with clean, non-polluting air.
Yet there is something very whacky and ultra-radical about the Republican candidate voting against renewable energy the last eight times it’s come up while leading a “Drill here, drill now, drill, drill drill!” cheer for the product that causes the climate change he has vowed to stop.” The Man Who Knows shook his head in disapproval.
“Just as moronic,” he continued, “is the so-called liberal Democratic candidate playing the same charade and folding like a cheap umbrella under political pressure instead of standing up and telling the truth. What could be more retarded than trumpeting change but still beating the big base drum of more of the same?” He raised a single eyebrow more archingly than the Rock ever dared dream of.
“I’ll tell you what’s dumber than a bag of hammers and more extreme than the X Games,” he offered, waiting for me to take the bait by looking his way – which I did. “And that is to care more about the cost of gasoline today than the far higher costs to every single person you claim to care about and love,” he answered, smugly adding, “Those costs will be paid before that off-shore oil ever fills anybody’s gas tank.”
And the really goofball thing is, you don’t have to search or explore for solar or wind energy we know where they are. And you don’t have to wait a decade to start using them. They’re there waiting for you to use today. They’re there waiting for you to spend all that money you’ve been wasting on drilling for more oil, on building a solar and wind energy infrastructure instead.”
The Man Who Knows sat straight up and winced noticeably before saying, “Ten years from now your kids are going to want to suffocate you in your sleep for being so selfish and stupid when you still had the chance to save them.” He forced a crooked smile through a mouth ringed by chocolatey powder. “How crazy will THAT be?” he asked.
“Well that just goes to show how much YOU really know,” I triumphantly declared. “I don’t even HAVE any kids.”
“Well then, my friend, you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?”
And with that The Man Who Knows finished off the last of my chocolate covered almonds, and said, “Speaking of gas, man, these puppies are creating some serious biomass action for me right now,” as he shuffled off in the direction of my bathroom.
“Later, Greenius,” he called out from the hallway.
Later indeed.
Creative Greenius 