By John Burtis
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
We all know that it's a tough world out there, and kids are said to be especially concerned about global warming, with many of our children wandering around in a total heavyweight funk because they're shot full of dread and angst about the outdoor thermometer and Koalas drinking mint juleps.
The warm world evidence is appearing everywhere thanks to the giddily gabby carbon dioxide haze which is enveloping us, yelling at us on the radio, being pointed out on television, limned every time a polar bear takes a bath, and becoming part and parcel of the legend of Al Gore's latest cross dressing make-over. Cross dressing, that is, because the formerly lithe and well suited Gore is now a lot less formal, far less lissome, and comes across as pretty cross.
But he's also an increasingly vituperative Gore, if that's possible, whose countdown clock to Earth's final oblivion is running out at Rush Limbaugh's site without us seeing or hearing any of the coming madness just yet. Although I guess the kids can, and that's the heart of the doggoned problem for them because they believe Al the Entertainer and not real scientists, who are less sanguine about the whole affair.
The fact that global warming is scaring our nationally treasured youth half to death comes as sort of a surprise to me. I reckoned that there'd be other more pressing problems for kids to worry about than that half of a degree warming expected in the next century, or is it twelve degrees, who can really say, even after sleeping through "An Inconvenient Truth" for the sixth time.
Of course, the estimates for the actual temperature increase also depend on who you talk to. An honest, hard working, MIT meteorological professor without an axe to grind or a poodle in the dog and pony show will tell you that everything is just fine and that we're riding out a few fluctuations. On the other side of the coin, if you quiz a far out left liberal on global warming, you'll witness someone dissolve into a MoveOn.org nut case of a rant about the end of days, the 16-foot rise in sea levels, the wrecking of Fire Island and the ruination of highway rest stops, and how the planet only began to accelerate into the growing oblivion when the arch deceiver of men and the destroyer of weather, the current US president, said "I do" while holding a mitt, palm down, on that disappearing gauge of morality and the tome losing ground, among the thoughtful people, to the Qu'ran every day – the Bible.
And speaking of the "peaceful" religion, Islam, and its primary idea book, the Quran, the world became a much more dangerous place for Moolah Dadullah a few days ago when he got "aired out" by NATO troops after leading a highly storied Taliban life, where he cut a bloody swath of stoned, shot, and beheaded folks before he was finally run to ground while looking natty in a beard and sun glasses and carrying a beat up copy of Al's magnum opus in his ditty bag. Funny, but I didn't hear of any kids worrying about the surge of fresh recruits filling out al-Qaeda's thinning ranks.
And of course, there's a lot of fear and loathing growing in the Southwest thanks to Johnny Sutton, the rough riding chief federal lawman for west Texas, headquartered in San Antonio and who's prone to skewer a federal agent for anything he can find at the drop of a Sombrero. And he's said to be an old pal of that other total federal failure, Alberto Gonzales.
Alberto, or Bert and Bert-o as he's known to his coat holders, is a firm law and order man just like Johnny Sutton, who made his bones in the compassionate conservatism ring by giving Sandy Burglar a cakewalk for burglary, theft, and perjury; letting Mary McCarthy off the hook for shoveling reams of secret documents to the NY Times, and steering her to a full and spontaneous retirement; and failing to even ask for a copy of the unabridged Barrett Report on the numerous Clinton power plays. But the kids aren't too bothered by Alberto's staunch refusal to defend the old living and breathing, though now relying on a ventilator, Constitution.
And equally lucky, the kids in the area haven't felt much fear as a result of Johnny Sutton's prolonged terrorist antics under the color of authority because he's only known to go after decent hard working and grown up federal lawmen trying to keep the country free from the murderers, drug smugglers, and terrorists that he's shilling for.
I mean, surprisingly, the kids, who aren't even disturbed by a full nuclear exchange with the Tehran-based moolahs, a different breed from the Taliban genus and species though they share the old Taliban's lust for death, seem to be more frightened about wearing short sleeved polo shirts in Fort Kent, Maine, in March.
Nor are the loveable moppets seemingly worried about Harry Reid's al-Qaeda pals dropping an explosive shoe or two off at their local airports, the toss of a few Sarin filled aerosol containers into the subway system, or even a mass attack of highly communicable small pox or Ebola Zaire sprung on the unsuspecting by the long arm of international terror.
And if the Earth would just take the blackened future cinder path quickly then all the meaningless hokum and complete bunk about current global climate change would be over because Al Gore's prophecy had finally came to fruition and we skipped the hip-wader and raft phases.
But I guess that things on this planet are just fine as long as folks are bitching .
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