Sunday, 1 March 2020
The spring has sprung, the grass is riz, etc. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life and all that. Actually, although we are into the first spring month, March, official spring doesn’t being in the UK until the 20th this year. That gives the weather less than three weeks to get its act together, not that the daffodils seem to care. The spring blossoms are pushing ahead with business as usual and no matter how many lawns the climate crazies want to ruin, nature will take its course anyway.
It’s all so exhausting, this climate change malarkey, and it’s somewhat perplexing that the world’s governments seem to be happy to let the most annoying population sector take the lead. I mean, come on, you’re taking your cues from children? The members of Extinction Rebellion may be a little older but no more mature, hailing, as is so often the case, from that peculiar proportion of the comfortable middle classes who swallow all the hippy aphorisms whole.
Whichever group you despise the most is irrelevant; they all preach an unwholesome message of doom. Greta Thunderclap Newman thinks the world is on fire; she should have been looking out of my window for the last six months where it has barely stopped raining. And the XR lot want us to return to a pre-energy age where they can try out their weird brand of communism. Communism of course, involves hardship, starvation, torture and sans electricity threatens to bring death by boredom. Why did she die? She just wanted to.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? I mean, we’re going to die anyway, so why begin now? If the human race is going to become extinct and with it the rest of the planet, why not go out in a blaze of glory, rather than cowering like helpless wimps as the flames lick towards us and the famines take us? Why not buy the most luxurious car you can afford and swig Champagne as you burn up the country roads at fifteen miles to the gallon on your hedonistic way to whatever takes your fancy?
The preachers see only horror and squalor and, fetishists as they are, they sound as if they welcome it. Ten years to save the planet… again? Because, see, even if we are headed to hell in a handcart it’s not happening in ten years, nor even a hundred. Humans will adapt and survive or, yes, we may actually die out. But not in the immediate future. Think of the children? Oh, please, they will have their own children and grandchildren and on and on because they will find a way. It’s what we do.
And so what if it actually does come to pass in a few hundred or a few thousand years? Why limit the life chances of all those future generations because we were too frit to live our own? And in any case, if you like your conspiracy theories extra gloomy, the corona virus is going to get you soon. So, I say ignore XR, tell Greta to get to fuck and carry on regardless. Enjoy your life, what’s left of it, because you only have the one. If the Earth is on fire it is likely due to all the hot air spouted by juvenile climate alarmists. My message to those future generations? Future generations can suck my dick.