The climate change disciples are among us. They’re out there, and the other day I met one. The two of us had a sort of conversation. I say sort of because the unabashed verbosity from the lad across the table made it a little difficult to join in. Maybe it was the alcohol. This chap had an average sized head, which surprised me, owing to the infinite quantity of knowledge he indicated he had stuffed away inside it. Our talk wasn’t all that interesting, but he was a great source of amusement nonetheless.
The topic of his speech was, of course, climate change. The Gen Z people are not aware that there are other things to think about. Isn’t the term redundant? Isn’t climate by definition always changing? Ah, who can say? But the subject is THE favorite among the morose gangs whose members traipse around college campuses, preaching their well-rehearsed exhortations of gloom and doom. Of course it is. Those unwitting children are clobbered nonstop with the fear-stoking of political operatives who care nothing about the climate, and everything about telling gullible people what they should be thinking.
The disciple I met had mastered all the talking points: soon the plains states’ farmers won’t be able to grow corn or wheat because the topsoil will blow away in mega-tornadoes, just like in the “Wizard of Oz.” But they won’t need the dirt because the heavens will forbid them rainfall. After that the world’s rivers and lakes will dry up. What will happen to all the freshwater pontoon boats? Perhaps they can become landlocked homeless shelters for college graduates who picked the wrong major. Obviously, what this country will need is an endless supply of dehydrated water, something that can be easily transported in electric cars made in China. Speaking of that disease-mongering people, what will become of their Three Gorges dam? Will it become a shopping mall? Probably not. Too dusty.
When the disciple at last ceased speaking long enough to breathe, I saw my chance, and offered up an opinion on his beloved topic of one-way conversation. He did not like it. Apparently diversity of thought is not something available to starry-eyed students. He didn’t seem to know that there are actually opinions other than his own, and this brutal realization only caused him to raise the volume of his tiresome dissertation. When the loud talking did not work to change my mind, he pounced with the time-honored ploy known as the ad hominem attack. How original. How clever. How predictable.
Yes, brothers and sisters and trans-trannies, the student was ready to defend the indefensible by asserting that all who challenge his, um, beliefs, are simple-minded ignoramuses. Attaboy! You show ‘em!
He will soon be moving faraway, somewhere into the American desert, where when he is not righteously condemning the size of the nation’s defense budget, he will toil alongside scientists working for the Dept. of Defense. Their mission? To create new ways to kill people. But aren’t climate change disciples supposed to save lives? Ugh. So many questions. So many inconsistencies. So much hilarity.
Your satire is improving rapidly!