Tuesday, April 15, 2008

"Earth Hour" and the Dark Ages (by Don Boudreaux)

The World Wildlife Fund arranged today's "Earth Hour" -- a pledge by many people from around the world to turn off lights for an hour.  The following is from a page on the WWF website:

Earth Hour is a global event created to symbolize that each one of us, working together, can make a positive impact on climate change - no matter who we are or where we live.

Created by WWF in Sydney, Australia in 2007, Earth Hour has grown from a single event into a global movement. In 2008, millions of people, businesses, governments and civic organizations in nearly 200 cities around the globe will turn out for Earth Hour. More than 35 US cities will participate, including the US flagships--Atlanta, Chicago, Phoenix and San Francisco.

Earth Hour brings together communities, local governments, corporate and nongovernmental organizations to heighten awareness about climate change and to inspire our nation to take practical actions to reduce their own carbon footprints.

Reading about the WWF's "Earth Hour" -- and hearing on the radio and t.v. too many mindless endorsements of this stunt, and seeing Google's special black "Earth Hour" design for its opening page today -- I sent the following letter to Carter Roberts, President of the WWF:

Dear Mr. Roberts:

You and members of your organization worry that industrialization and economic growth are harming the earth's environment.  I worry that the intensifying hysteria about the state of the environment - and that the resulting hostility to economic growth - might harm humankind's prospects for comfortable, healthy, enjoyable, and long lives.

So I commend you on your "Earth Hour" effort.  Persuading people across the globe to turn off lights for one hour supplies the perfect symbol for modern environmentalism: a collective effort to return humankind to the dark ages.

Sincerely,
Donald J. Boudreaux

By the way, of course, the WWF should award some special prize to the North Korean government, for that government keeps North Koreans not in any meager "Earth Hour," or even "Earth Day," but in what WWFers might call "Earth Decades" -- very little light ever.  This picture of the Korean peninsula speaks volumes -- the Dark Ages today; a society keeping its carbon footprint tiny.  Of course, in doing so it keeps itself also desperately poor, often even to the point of starvation.

And They Call It: Poopy Love...

So, Mr. Z has this huge crush on a girl in his class and, from the sounds of it, she kinda digs him, too. Which is great... and fucked up. The boy's nine, for fuck's sake. And since he skipped a grade, she's older -- 11 to be exact. Total Susan Sarandon/Tim Robbins thing going on.

Anywhich, each day, he comes home with more "evidence" that she's into him. Sometimes he catches her staring at him, she compliments him on his work in art class, she gave him a root beer lollipop at Family "Fun" night. Sometimes the evidence seems a little scant, but when taken all together, I think he's on to something.

Tonight, while we were chatting at bedtime, I accidentally unleashed a heinous fart. With an accent on the "einous." As he was tearing up and gasping for oxygen, we had the following exchange:

ME: Hey, do you think Miss E ever farts?

MR. Z: No way!!! She doesn't do that kinda thing!

ME: Oh, but she does. Remember that book "Everyone Poops"? Well, if everyone poops, then everyone totally farts. Especially Miss E.

MR. Z: [silently pondering this disturbing revelation]

ME: I know it can be sort of strange to think about someone you like farting and pooping. Maybe we should talk about something else...

MR. Z: I'll bet she has flowery, little pink poops.

ME: Okay, I shouldn't have said anything. It's time to go to sle--

MR. Z: And I'll bet she cuts tropical farts that smell like coconuts and bananas.

ME: All right, time to go to sleep, Tommy Bahama! You can dream about her tropical gassers all you want, but I don't want to talk about it anymore.

MR. Z: You started it!

ME: Oh yeah? Well... whoever smelt it, dealt it, okay? Goodnight.

Once again, I think I've managed to somehow invent a brand new fetish and then inadvertently foist it upon my son. Ten years from now, he's so going to be the moderator of the alt.binaries.tropicalflatus newsgroup. I better go lock up all the suntan lotion, just to be safe.

Aloha.