Global warming is my friend

I have just returned from a trip of eating lunch, reading Pat Buchanan’s book on World War II, and going to the bank. My core temperature must be down to about 42 degrees Fahrenheit by now. It’s cold here. Is it just me, or is this weather, which includes some snow flurries, a bit colder than usual for mid-November?

The worst part about all this is that I have to figure out how to survive a four and a half mile run in this sheissdreck. Yeah, I could skip the run, but that sets a bad precedent early in the cold months of the year, and I’m not about to stop a mere 7.5 pounds from my goal weight. I’m presently tearing my closet apart, looking for clothes that stand some chance of keeping me warm but which are old enough that it doesn’t matter if they get all nasty from sweat.

All this reminds me of various environmentalist hysterics I’ve witnessed over the years. The world is warming up. It’s going to burst into flames at any minute. Al Gore makes a guest appearance on South Park, searching for ManBearPig. There’s the paranoia about auto emissions, not to mention the serioso fretting over the effects of bovine farts on the atmosphere. Blah, blah, blah, etc.

Well, get this, friends. This could all be proven wrong in short order. In fact, members of the Environmentalist Church have already ceased to talk about “global warming” and instead have begun using the term “climate change.” It is their great Reformation. They have gone from transubstantiation to consubstantiation. A short while ago, I saw a news story that August was in many places the coldest one on record. And earlier this week, Drudge featured a story that NASA, in previously claiming October 2008 as one of the warmest on record, got it wrong. Oops. I wonder if that has anything to do with placing thermometers near exhaust vents, as has been known to happen?

I am quite glad to see prescient signs of global warming’s impending collapse, but the dirty truth is that I will actually miss it. You see, we love to romanticize memories of Thanksgivings which are so snowy that you can’t leave the house, but we forget what it’s actually like to live through that.

“Yuck, 55 degrees on Thanksgiving! Too hot.” Rubbish, I say. Bring on the heat. Then I won’t have to worry about freezing off certain body parts which I deem to be essential.

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