Another eek-screeching scrawny-brained bug-witted pretty-boy addled cancerous ferret has called for my arrest.
My crime? Sanity.
Adam Weinstein (@AdamWeinstein), writing at a place with the puerile name of “Gawker”—come to think of it, only peeping Toms could reason so badly—demands “Arrest Climate-Change Deniers.”
Arrest. As in detain by force and incarcerate. For how long, pretty boy never says. Deniers. As in those who have rationally concluded that more than two decades of busted forecasts can only mean that apocalyptic global warming must be false.
Whinestein is in bad company. He joins professor Rod Lamberts, who says the ends justify the means when dealing with “deniers”, and professor and Queen of Smug Lawrence Torcello who is convinced dark forces have banded together against him.
There used to be a name for these sorts of walking wounded, men whose brains have ceased performing their customary duties, but in modern psychology everything and nothing is a disease, so there is no point in using it.
“Man-made climate change kills a lot of people,” says Whinestein. Now it is useless telling this overgrown child that this statement is laughably false. He has constructed a wall of Legos under his mother’s kitchen table to block information like this from seeping in. There he sits, crouched in his safe gloomy murk, aligning his toy soldiers as they battle for All Mankind. If you needed proof of the danger of reading comic books past the age of twenty, this is it.
A man would have to have cheese between the ears to post in block letters above a picture the words “Consensus: 97% of climate scientist agree” and fail to realize that therefore there are 3% of climate scientists who disagree with the “Consensus.” We could therefore ask Whinestein how many of these scientists he would cart off to concentration camps if we didn’t already know his mathematical skills do not allow him to count past his twelve toes.
And anyway, that 97% is overblown by an order of magnitude. Dear activists: this means the number is too big; hold your arms apart to get an idea how big. Whinestein says he wouldn’t shoot actual scientists who disagree with his non-considered opinion, only those who repeat what the scientists who disagree with him say. Make sense? Expecting sense from a progressive is like standing on Wilshire Boulevard awaiting the Stage Coach. No matter how earnestly you desire it, it isn’t going to come.
Like Lamberts and Torcello, Whinestein believes he has stumbled across the Protocols of the Elders of Oil. Just like the 300-pound Wellesley graduate (major: Womyn’s Studies) who swears she was abducted by Greys and probed lovingly over a long weekend, Whinestein is on the corner screaming, “The truth is out there!” at passersby.
Conspiracy is always the first refuge of zealots. The ignorant, being ignorant, are unable to fathom that others can’t see the hidden patterns which are so plain to them. Those who disagree must be evil, and are therefore fair game for the firing squad.
I’ve told this so many times I’m sick of repeating it. Just once more. Whereas Whinestein is well compensated for his fact-free global warming rants, Yours Truly has never accepted consideration of any kind for his advice. Not that I didn’t and don’t want to. But nobody ever offered it and those I asked said come back next week—but next week never came. On the contrary, my reasoned skepticism has cost me plenty.
Just last week, I had a job lined up that would have been perfect. My dream job. But the organization came back, “Sorry, we don’t want to be associated with deniers or denial.” Me they liked. But they were frightened of foamy-mouthed knuckle-draggers like Whinestein. Last thing a businessman wants is to come to work and see monkeys ooking and eeking and swarming the shrubbery lining the parking lot. It’s a distraction.
I thus invite pretty boy Whinestein or lusty Lamberts or twiggy Torcello or any Gaiaian caped crusader—readers, please email these…these entities for me—to name the time and place and I’ll be there. There they can try their luck arresting me.
Update Reader Brad R reminds us of Richard ‘Killer’ Parncutt.