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Rage Against the Green

What’s the opposite of green?

Because that’s what I want to be. I don’t want to be a sensible, environmentally friendly conservative who wants to go about greening the planet “the right way.” I want to be a slash-and-burn mudhead who wants to replace the ozone layer with cigarette smoke, put motor oil in the water, and heat the planet 746 degrees every month.

I’m sick of green. Sick, sick, sick of it. I want it to die.

I remember feeling this way before, when I was (sort of ) dating a rabid vegetarian who insisted that I was engaging in cannibalistic murder every time I downed a hamburger. I tried to be reasonable. I tried to explain, patiently, that eating meat is perfectly natural and healthy, that eating a cow is not the same thing as eating your seventh grade math teacher, and that nature is far crueler to its meat than human beings are. And the more reasonable I got, the shriller she got. Once you pull the rug out from a specious argument, all your opponent can do is shriek. And shriek she did.

Finally, I told her I only eat meat that’s been thoroughly tortured before it’s been killed. That shut her up. (It ended our dating, too, but that’s another story.)

So what’s going to shut up the greens? I don’t like seeing TV or Google logos that look like forests. I don’t get warm and fuzzy when a company advertises it uses “clean fuels” or whatever crap they want to shove down our throats today. I want people who sell the MLM scam known as carbon offsets baked in their own biodiesel. Talking rationally with these people only makes you a bigger punching bag.

So why not go whole hog?

I will vote for the first candidate who says they want to turn the planet into their own personal sauna. I want someone to call for filling Mt. Rushmore with nuclear waste. I want a car company to advertise a fifty-foot long sedan that gets three miles to the gallon. I want to take everything in recycling plants and dump it in landfills, and then raze the tops of mountains and cover them with aluminum cans and plastic DVD covers. I want the oceans filled with noodles, boiled, and then served as soup.

We should continue to talk like this until the radical greens, who would be happy if the population of the world collapsed by two thirds, are forced to meet us in the middle, where reasonable people used to be.

Yes, I’m in pain from my fourth day of personal training. That has nothing to do with this! Who else wants Ocean Noodle Soup, served Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, or Arctic style?

Tattoo Lady, Crap Politicization, Whining, Cars
Effluvia

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