Photo by: AlGore.com
While confined to the Stu-Cave during last week’s leisurely, but uneventful snow days, I had a lot of time to meditate. With the serene winter scene outside my window, and my Nag Champa burning fiercely, I quickly entered my conspiracy mode.
Fans of this column will recall that some of my most profound work has been done while in this mindset.
For instance: unveiling the President’s hidden birth on Pluto (now that it’s no longer a planet, Obama doesn’t meet the constitutional requirement to be born in this solar system), and former Vice President Cheney’s past as a bloodsucking vampire.
Channeling the spirit of Glenn Beck, I utilized the long weekend to make my most startling discovery yet.
While the scientific community is correct in its analysis of anthropogenic global warming, this has led climatologists to the wrong conclusion.
Global warming is real – real awesome that is. Any sorority girls that had to cover their skimpy Halloween costumes in order to battle the elements this weekend are probably aware of this fact (as is any frat-daddy that was denied the pleasure of seeing said costumes).
Don’t get me wrong, I love snow days as much as the next procrastintion-prone college student, I just prefer flip-flops and spaghetti straps. As a proud Colorado native, I don’t see why I should have to move to California to enjoy these simple pleasures. The question is who, besides party-pooping Eskimos and cry-baby polar bears, could possibly disagree?
This stream of Socratic dialectical consciousness led me to the revelation of the Master Manipulators behind this “global warming is bad, whine whine whine” conspiracy. Think about it. You never see news of coal miners in sub-zero West Virginia protesting more comfortable weather. The only people devious enough to concoct the myth that warm weather for all is somehow unsustainable are those that already have it: coastal elites.
Californians have everything to gain from maintaining their monopoly (not the board game, HRTM majors) on Mediterranean weather, and everything to lose from Middle Amurrikuh becoming the new Spring Break destination. In order to bolster tourism at Disneyland and keep home prices high in Malibu, Hollywood’s wine-tasting elites want to keep the Midwest as cold as Roman Polanski’s heart.
Certainly, global warming will bring negative side effects, but even as subsistence farmers in Africa lose arable land to desertification, and islands that even geography majors haven’t heard of sink into the Indian Ocean, vastly superior land will emerge from the tundra to replace what is lost. Monsanto is literally going to have a field day growing Frankenstein wheat stalks in the soon-to-be budding Saskatchewan breadbasket.
The only flaw in my theory is why our Scandinavian comrades-in-the-cold would choose to ally themselves with the nefarious Californian Surfer Brah Lobby. This remains an unresolved issue, but if we really want to transform the Midwest into a tropical utopia, we need to act soon. So leave your Hummers on all day, and defecate (seriously, defecate) on the school’s bike share program.
Fans of this column may have me figured as an enemy of the gawky Greenpeace activists on campus. But they can do their part too, simply by continuing to emit hot air every day in the form of sanctimonious speeches.
Al Gore can keep on fighting the best interests of mankind, but I’m going to grab the nearest aerosol can, empty it, and start researching property prices on my soon-to-be beachfront lot in Siberia. Fancy that.
