Vowing to stop speaking and downsize his house…. Gore confesses: “I am a hypocrite”

--Satire-- Usually the world’s most trusted name in journalism, Hugh Betcha, Chief of the World News Desk of the Stoos Views media empire in Wynstone, South Dakota—where the air is clean, the crime rate low, the folks vote red, and the centre still holds—is the go to guy when politicians want to disseminate breaking national and international news.

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A man who walks with equal ease on both sides of the aisle in Washington, who moves seamlessly between the Arabs and Jews, and who has been known to get ‘faced with the President on cheap wine, Hugh has the trust of politicians, and movers and shakers of all stripes. But the call from Al Gore this week took him by surprise. While sitting beside his fireplace on a cold South Dakota night, reading “No, Really, It Is Global Warming….” © 2009 Al Gore Hugh was startled by a call on his cell phone. What he heard, touched him deeply. “I need to see you this week,” the caller pleaded. “Gotta get some things off my chest.” “But, it is the week before Christmas,” Hugh replied, “and the connections are not good this time of year.” “Don’t worry,” the caller said, “I will send one of my jets out there—do they have an airport at Sioux Falls?” “Sure,” Hugh replied, “but I have four feet of global warming in my driveway and I do not know if I can make it to the road, and….” “Not to worry,” the caller interrupted, “I can send a Hummer out to get you.” So, as he has so many times in the past, Hugh packed a bag and prepared for the long flight to the Gore mansion. It was going to be another of those Barbara Walters things again. He could just tell. For despite Hugh’s hard nosed approach to the news, rapier wit and no nonsense style of reporting, he had a softer side and one that often brought his interviewees to tears. Like the time Obama wept like a baby in his arms one night in the White House as the President confessed that he was over his head and had no clue how to run the country; or the time Harry Reid sobbed on his shoulder when he admitted he is an inveterate #**** who deserves to get beat in the upcoming Senatorial election in Nevada. Things like that. But Gore needed to confide in him somehow, and Hugh never refused such a request. This is what made him the most trusted name in journalism. Arriving at the Gore Mansion, by chauffeured limousine, Hugh was ushered into the palatial Gore home which is twenty times bigger than the average American home, consumes over 200,000 kwh hours of electricity per year, and costs more than $2,000 per month to heat. Escorted into the Gore study by the butler, Hugh noticed the pictures of those memorable moments in Gore’s life. On one wall, hung pictures of his private jumbo jets which carried him to foreign lands so he could preach to them how to conserve energy and save the planet. There was The Green Machine, The Polar Bear Express, and other of his favorite personal jets. Sure, they each emitted tons of carbon each trip overseas, but it was a small price to pay for enlightening the world. There was the picture of Gore sitting at a computer keyboard on the day he invented the Internet. Or the photos of Gore cradling a baby polar bear, sobbing in vain as the bear’s mother drifted away on an ice floe that was melting rapidly. There was a prominent photo of Gore surrounded by geothermal scientists, briefing him on the fact that the earth’s core was actually hotter than the sun. On another wall hung a picture of Gore in a hard hat, visiting his zinc mines. Hugh’s inspection of the room was interrupted by the Almost President as he walked into the room. “Sit down please,” Gore invited, “thanks for coming.” It was obvious from his puffy eyes that the former Vice President, Almost President, and Inventor of the Internet had been sobbing. “What’s up?" Hugh asked, concerned. “I am feeling a little guilty I guess.” Gore began. “You know, this environmental mumbo jumbo I have been preaching.” “Yes…” “Well, I have decided that I am a hypocrite, and it is time to come clean.” “Why?” “Confession is good for the soul I guess. It occurred to me, I am living here in this huge mansion that consumes more energy that most villages in Kenya--the country of Obama’s birth--and I am feeling a little guilty about this. Then there are my jets—they drop more carbon into the atmosphere than twenty coal fired energy plants in China—where I have lectured them on cleaning up their air. They consume enough fuel in one week to power 1,000 American automobiles for a year. I own certain zinc mining interests, and those strip mines pollute more water than a chemical plant. Then there are the speeches—I have given 3,000 speeches in the past ten years on global warming and, according to my friends at the EPA, I have exhaled enough CO2 to kill 324 polar bears. My own toxic emissions equal the combined flatus of 20 cattle per year. Put simply, it has become apparent to me that I may be the biggest single polluter on the planet. Lisa Jackson at the EPA has informed me privately that EPA tests show I am the single largest polluter per capita in the United States. In fact, the EPA has threatened to enjoin me if I do not make some changes. Put simply, I am a hypocrite and the single biggest threat to the environment in this country. I am a one man freaking Love Canal and Three Mile Island all in one. “So, what do you intend to do about this?” “I am going to make some lifestyle changes.” “Such as…” “Beginning with the new year, I am going to stop making speeches on the environment for a period of one year. This should slow the rate of CO2 emissions in the atmosphere and slow the melting of the polar ice cap—which will, according to my research, melt away in 5 years—as I said recently. “ “What else?” “I am going to stop flying on my private jets, and, if I fly anywhere, it will be commercially, and I will do something I have never done in my life.” “And that is?” “Travel with the common people. I might even risk it and travel coach.” “What else?” “I am going to stop writing books about global warming—which will at once save millions of trees which are brutally cut down in order to print this drivel, and also cut down on the misinformation about global warming. I mean they have fudged that data so much that I do not even believe my own B.S. any more.” “And?” “Tipper is going to start hanging our clothes outside on a clothes line, just like the common folks do. I remember that Barbara Streisand lectured Americans on Earth Day about ten years ago, that they should hang their clothes out to dry in order to save electricity. That really sounds like a great idea and I have built Tipper a clothes line right next to the double wide….” “The double wide?” Hugh asked. “The one we are moving into when we sell the mansion. Who needs to live like we are? I want to see how the common folk live and set an example for the rest of the world.”