Here I am live from the boot toe of Indiana, about as far south as you can get without actually entering Kentucky. I may or may not do that tomorrow. We shall see if the day is as unfruitful as today was. At least it was sunny for my drive through the hinterlands of Hoosierdom.
I’m glad to see our betters climb into their private jets and limos so they could meet to lecture the rest of us on how we are poor stewards of the environment. You know what? Let me know when the Third World and places like China India cut their emissions 50%, then I’ll be glad to vote to destroy my standard of living, my way of life, and our economy in the name of the Green Religion. Until then I wish Biden and his ilk would just go away. And I especially mean that for the petulant teenager from Scandinavia. Your 15 is up Greta, you may exit stage left. Watch a movie. Read a book. Drink a beer. Just lighten up. No one likes you. No one wants to be scolded and lectured 24-7. I bet Greta couldn’t even phone a friend should she find herself on a game show.
Greta has become so overbearing, so tediously single-minded that even her family are starting to roll their eyes when she starts in. Thornburg, hah: more like thorn in the world’s butt. A real pain in the ass, if you know what I mean.
I think I will take a nap before I make the day’s big decision - where to eat dinner.
7 comments:
Greta? a drop out with a learning disability whose parents let her call the shots. Who would listen to her? and oh yea, she's headed of trouble.
Cannot stand Greta and agree with ming.
Lots of "Sunshine" down there. But it's so very far away. :(
Fred
Well, the news from Virginia is positive. Maybe it will motivate our dishrag Governor DeWine.
This is something I copied last year. If too long just delete. Margi
One crisp winter morning in Sweden, a cute little girl named Greta woke up to a perfect world, one in which there were no petroleum products ruining the earth. She tossed aside her cotton sheet and wool blanket and stepped out onto a dirt floor covered with willow bark that had been pulverized with rocks.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.
“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.
“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.
Greta smiled, acknowledging that adjustments are necessary to save the planet, and moved to the sink to brush her teeth where instead of a toothbrush, she found a willow, mangled on one end to expose wood fiber bristles.
“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”
“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.
“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, ‘Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it”
“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.
“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?” There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .
“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.
“Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”
“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.
“Well, . . .” And once again, Greta was told about the need for petroleum products like transformer oil and scores of petroleum products essential for producing metals for frying pans and in the end was educated about how you can’t have a petroleum-free world and then cook eggs. Unless you rip your front fence up and start a fire and carefully cook your egg in an orange peel like you do in Boy Scouts. Not that you can find oranges in Sweden anymore.
“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.
“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”
“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”
“Not anymore,” explained godmother “The production of penicillin requires chemical extraction using isobutyl acetate, which, if you know your organic chemistry, is petroleum-based. Lots of people are dying, which is problematic because there’s not an easy way of disposing of the bodies since backhoes need hydraulic oil and crematoriums can’t really burn many bodies using as fuel Swedish fences and furniture, which are rapidly disappearing – being used on the black market for roasting eggs and staying warm.”
This represents only a fraction of Greta’s day, a day without microphones to exclaim into and a day without much food, and a day without carbon-fiber boats to sail in, but a day that will save the planet.
Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.
— I Am Not the Author of This
Margi
That is great
Fred
School or living?
It must be very cloudy your way these days
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