An Inconvenient Morning

Just then the floating disembodied head of
Colonel Sanders started yelling

Everything you know is wrong

Black is white, up is down and short is long

And everything you thought was just so

Important doesn't matter because

Everything you know is wrong

Just forget the words and sing along

All you need to understand is

Everything you know is wrong

- Alfred Yankovic

New Today at this Thing we call "the Institute"

October 12 - International Toasted Marshmallow Festival (Author: Xerxes I)

Blournal Entry: Arizona vs. Colorado; The Newspapers tell the story (and Hyperion is really really old)

Special Programming Notes

Special Programming Note #1: I have looked over the calendar, comparing what I plan to bring you this month, and how many days the month actually has, and I realized that the only way I can get it done is to post every single day from now through Halloween, and even then it will be close. This means that there will be weekend posts! You need to be there, or be a rectangular rhombus.

Special Programming Note #2: Monkey Barn returns Monday, but what will it look like? Tune into find out


[I had a movie review all ready to go when the events of this morning overtook me and I had to rant. Originally this posted in Institutionalized, my Journal/Blog, but as the click-rate level is not yet what I would wish, I decided to move it to the front page where everyone could read it. Warning: I was very ticked when I wrote this, so audiences in the first half dozen rows may get disillusioned. -H]

Imagine my fun-loving pure joy to wake up this morning around 4:00 am to find out that—to the shock of absolutely no one paying attention—this year's Nobel Peace Prize went to a perennial candidate for the "World's Biggest Hypocritical Opportunistic Has No Problem Making Shit up for the Cause Couldn't Pick a Personality out of a Lineup Grade A Moron" Al Gore. If that wasn't enough to wake the neighbors, he "shares" the prize with the most dickless toothless corrupt couldn't give less of a rat's ass about anybody leave every child behind abomination detestation disinclination on their knees whore of an organization: the UN.

Methinks Bruce Springsteen needs to write another song.

This rant isn't an indictment against "Climate Change," the newly rebranded test-marketed PC alternative to the tractionless "Global Warming." That's a complicated issue, and the only thing anyone of any reasonable intelligence can say for certain—and feel free to quote me on this, or if you is one of them, take appropriate self-surgical steps to ensure a lack of progeny—is that people who are 100% certain of any conclusion have revealed one truth (and one truth only): their profound and utter ignorance when it comes to the matter.

Those folk can be summarily dismissed. The people that take a warm front in October and crow as if holding the smoking gun, as if their pathetic need hold off on their 2007 Fall Wardrobe should count more than most of Earth's history. (A history, by the way, for the most part largely lacking in temperature data.) Conversely, the same can be said of people shoveling three and a half feet next January loudly pissing all over the idea, because—god forbid—they had to run hot water on their car door to get the locks unthawed.

What you generally will not hear in the debate is that there is a lot of conflicting data and—as I said before—the biggest hurdle is that none of us have lived long enough to have a true perspective. Do some recent trends fit a certain theory? If so, are the suspected "causes" largely responsible? Is weather a cyclical thing, far more influenced by things we cannot control? Does the fact that scientists used very similar data in the '70s to predict a coming Ice Age give anyone pause?

No one who cares about the future wants the issue to stay mute. We can do that. Hell: you and I can do that, and publish our conversations to the education of many.

But what we shouldn't do is reward people who are either so out and out stupid that they need to wear a safety helmet at all times, or are else so calculatingly venal that they have no problem in the least making up or fudging science to get what they want.

Trust me friends, what they want almost certainly has far less to do with affecting change (which DOES NOT justify lying), then they continuing their own ends. These ends can include stardom, power, prestige, money, and when you are dealing with politicians…well, you know the rest.

On the other hand, I really do not know why I should be surprised. We are talking about an organization that once rewarded Yasser Arafat. You laugh, but 10 years from now my jaw will stay firmly in place when Osama wins his. The Nobel Prize—something I had for a long time aspired to—recently gave their stamp of approval to Jimmy Carter, who couldn't have his head further up his own ass if he were Plastic Man. Never has one man pretended to do more, accomplished less, and understood nothing than our former president, whose foreign policy makes George Bush look like Albert Einstein and Albert Schweitzer put together. At this rate, will anyone be surprised when Bill Clinton is holding his own medal, oh, about October of next year, four weeks away from the election? I will not.

I am officially out of the Nobel running. I do not care if I invent a way to pull water out of air, or get renewable energy from fruitcake. I could discover six new elements, perfect time travel and write a book so great it brings people back from the dead just to read it. You still will not see me up on the dais. I guess I should not really expect better from a prize that was originally started to make people no longer associate Alfred Nobel with death. He woke up one morning to read the headline of his own obituary, falsely published. The headline read, "Le marchand de la mort est mort." Which means, "The merchant of death is dead. The article went on to say that, through the invention of dynamite and other items of war, Nobel had gotten rich off of coming up with faster ways to kill people than ever before. Horrified with such press, he promptly invented a prize to make people of the future—us—remember his legacy as one of peace.

The way it is now, perhaps he should have just stuck to being Dr. Death. I know I for one wish I had a few sticks of dynamite right about now.

October 12, 2007

Remember, kids: posts both Saturday and Sunday, so make sure you come back!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You have GOT to be kidding! Al !@#$%ing Gore?!?! Methinks der Svedish shtink comme caca.

It is truly amazing--how they fit their oversized craniums through their small sphincters.