Finally! Global Warming, The Musical

Dear William, it’s excellent. I contacted my contact at the Department of Energy and she agreed it’s wonderful, so they approved a $1.4 million DOE grant. You will have to return $100,000 if the musical ends up without music, however.

Don’t fret. $700K will be worth only 47 cents at the end of the century when our descendents all boiling. Not a bad investment from that perspective.

As for your song, well, it ain’t the Beatles.

“Rain”

If the rain comes they run and hide their heads
They might as well be dead
If the rain comes, if the rain comes

When the sun shines they slip into the shade
(When the sun shines down)
And drink their lemonade
(When the sun shines down)
When the sun shines, when the sun shines

Rain, I don’t mind
Shine, the weather’s fine

I can show you that when it starts to rain
(When the rain comes down)
Everything’s the same
(When the rain comes down)
I can show you, I can show you

Rain, I don’t mind
Shine, the weather’s fine

Can you hear me, that when it rains and shines
(When it rains and shines)
It’s just a state of mind?
(When it rains and shines)
Can you hear me, can you hear me?

Sdaeh rieht edih dna nur yeht semoc niar eht fI
(Rain)
(Rain)

In the chilly hours and minutes
Of uncertainty
I want to be
In the warm place where the models run.

To hear them all around me
And to get the grants
To meet my wants,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.

When rising heat pales the sky
I want to share the cash
In that great stash,
And everywhere I’d look, the proof I’d find.

For the greatest cause
All deeds are fair,
Truth or right, I don’t care,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.

Dr. Briggs,
I think you would have a better chance asking the Koch brothers for money. I am always hearing about how they fund climate deniers.

Oh the weather outside is frightful,
poor deniers sad and spiteful.
Since they’ve no place to go –
Come embrace status quo, status quo.

This is harder than it should be…

“UN Climate Panel Says That According To Their Figures, You Drowned Last Thursday. And Don’t Try To Deny It”

It’s nine o’clock on the day before,
The IPCC report is due
There’s an old man, sitting next to me
Reviewing MBH98 through and through

He says son, can you run me a computer model
not really sure how it goes,
but it’s easy
just “derive” some parameters,
and they only read abstracts anyway

Bring us a prediction, you’re the Michael Mann
Bring us a prediction tonight
Well we’re all in the mood for a research grant
And there’s evil deniers to fight

I was going to write some more verses about CRU emails and lawsuits, but rhyming becomes tedious.

“We’ll all be rooned,” said Hanrahan,
In accents most forlorn,
Outside the church, ere Mass began,
One frosty Sunday morn.

http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/obrienj/poetry/hanrahan.html

Come on dude it’s hot hot hot
Nobody here says its cool
So stick your nose out of your crib
And chill yourself ’round the pool

Round the pool
Round the pool
Yo gotta be cool round the pool

When the climate man says you run run run
You might think he’s not so fun
You better believe he is seriously serious
He come get you with his gun

He’s got the gun
He’s got the gun
This ain’t goin’ to be no fun

When skeptics say its cold cold cold
And you got ice-cycles on your nose
Just go with the climate man’s warning of woe
Let the others be so bold

You’re not bold
You’re not bold
You’re going to live ‘cause you ain’t bold

Sword fights are so 20th century, this is the 20th century and all you need is a dog, preferably a talking one.

argh, got my century wrong again.

Join him on his one-man quest to find love and to never quite solve the problem of Global Warming (if it were solved, then no more grants).

http://www.despair.com/consulting.html

Sword fight? How about dueling slide rulers.

You see, to cut back on warming the electric power is only on an hour before dawn and an hour after twilight. But, engineers and scientist (and statisticians) must continue to compute.

Cue the solo about the beauty of the instrument, partial solutions sliding back and forth…never mind.

Addicted to Earl

Al Gore came home
To the wife and family
After flying here and there and back to here.
And the oil that he used
Had drained all the reserves
And left some carbon in the atmosphere.
But the mansions eased the pain,
And the servants with champagne,
They took away his worries that so vexed
With a dump truck full of carbon offset checks.

There’s a hole in Al Gore’s jet where all the oil goes,
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose.
Little voters have big ears,
Don’t stop hyping the fears,
Global warmin’s coming soon, let’s cap and trade.

Al Gore’s welcome home
Didn’t last too long.
The sea’s that didn’t rise up copped his ‘tude,
And soon he took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
To feed his billion dollar jones for Saudi crude.
And the oil roared through his veins
Like a thousand dirty coal trains,
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose,
While poor folk ran ’round begging food and clothes.

There’s a hole in Al Gore’s jet where all the oil goes,
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose.
Little voters have big ears,
Don’t stop hyping the fears,
Global warmin’s coming soon, let’s cap and trade.

Al Gore was feeling swell
When BP lost that oil well,
Trading futures while sitting on a throne.
Well he played his last big hoax,
And the laughter at the joke
Floated like a sweetheart no-pay loan.
But life had lost it’s fun,
There was nothing to be done,
But trade the house he bought in Tipper’s name,
For a grand estate in Persian Gulf Bahrain.

There’s a hole in Al Gore’s jet where all the oil goes,
Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose.
Little voters have big ears,
Don’t stop hyping the fears,
Global warmin’s coming soon, let’s cap and trade.

That’s just for starters. I have more. In fact, I could score the entire musical for a modest upfront fee and a cut of the residuals…

Sucking on cough drops,
Watching the temps drop,
See the flamingos covered in snow.
Strumming my six-string,
Stuck in my kitchen,
Smell the heating coils,
They’re beginning to glow.

Shoveling the driveway again,
Eight inch of climate change.
Clear the walk and throw down some salt.
Some people claim carbon emmisions can’t be blamed,
Doncha know this snow is Al Gore’s fault.

Snow is the reason,
Been housebound all season.
Nothing to show but this hockey stick tattoo.
It’s a real beauty, a Mannian cutie,
And I’ll find the numbers which make it come true.

Shoveling the driveway again,
Eight inch of climate change.
Clear the walk and throw down some salt.
Some people claim carbon emmisions can’t be blamed,
But now I think, this snow has to be global warming’s fault.

Crust broke made a posthole,
Got snow in my (pause) ice hole.
Frostbitten toes had to trudge on back home.
Put coffee beans in the blender,
And they soon they will render,
The steaming concoction that helps me go on.

Shoveling the driveway again,
Eight inch of climate change.
Clear the walk and throw down some salt.
Some people claim carbon emissions can’t be blamed,
But I know, that somehow warming’s at fault,
Yes, some people claim carbon emissions can’t be blamed,
But all this snow, has to be global warming’s fault.

I am still planning to complete a Brand New operetta, modelled (an ensemble of course) on Gilbert & Sullivan’s “The Pirates of Penzance”. I had intended to title it “The Prophets of Doom”, but in a gin-soaked haze wrote down “The Profits of Doom”. On reflection, I realised that the expression “in vino veritas” carries some weight, and decided that serendipity had produced a more apposite title.

The first ditty is based, rather more than loosely, on “The Modern Major-General”. (original lyrics on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major-General's_Song)

I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I know my greenhouse science from Keeling and Arrhenius,
My hero is Pachauri, a prognosticating genius.
My arguments are fashioned from proxies picked and polished,
So hockey-sticks of various hues see history demolished.
Concerning greenhouse warming, I’m up there with the best,
My graphical analysis survives the chi-square test.
Radiation science is meat and drink to me –
The facts are at my fingertips, it’s plain for all to see.

I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
Not for me the blogosphere, the endless tittle-tattle,
Scientific studies are my weapons for the battle.
I know the mainstream journals, and I quote the studies actual,
With peer-review, old-pals-act too, they needn’t be so factual.

I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
I’m very good at bluster, hype, and statements categorical,
Don’t fence with me, for as you’ll see, my logic is canonical.
Obfuscation is my stock-in-trade, and devious my tactics,
Debating not, I write a lot, so routing all the sceptics.

I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
My enemies are mindless jerks, I’ll see them FOI-led again,
I delete my emails daily, and watch them hunt in vain.
Deniers all, their star will fall, the IPCC resplendent,
Will win the day, you all will pay, the EPA’s ascendent.

I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
From climate models numerous, and data-sets adjusted,
And linear regressions, come forecasts to be trusted.
Mankind is doomed, I’m sad to say, of that there’s little doubt.
The earth will burn, though rising seas will put the fires out.
The media are all agog, and keep the airwaves humming,
For bad news sells, attention dwells, just keep the funding coming.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist.

Someone mentioned Mike “Chainsaw” Mann earlier. I couldn’t possibly comment further – any possible parallels are pure conjecture, like the apocalyptic projections of the latest Ill-informed Panel on Climate Chaos report.

Sung to the tune of Hello Dolly, with apologies to, well everyone.

Well hello Michael, this is Steve, Michael
Please make your data public where it belongs
It would be swell Michael, if I could tell, Michael
Exactly where you happened to go wrong
Show us your tree ring data, Michael
Show us everything, Michael
And Michael please don’t hide the decline
And Michael please don’t hide the decline
Again

“Our beneficent government gave $700,000 dollars to a theatre troup to create the musical The Great Immensity.”

I’m with Menken here:

“Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.”

Finally, an effective alternative to water boarding!

More apologies due to Gilbert & Sullivan, for this slight modification of ‘A Policeman’s Lot’ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrQx43TDGFU):

When a Climatist’s not engaged in his employment
Or maturing his felonious little plan
His capacity for innocent enjoyment
Is just as great as any honest man
Our feelings we with difficulty smother
When statisticulary duty’s to be done
Taking one consideration with another
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one
When statisticulary duty’s to be done, to be done
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one

When the ruthless geographer’s not alarming
When the programmer isn’t occupied in crime
He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling
And listen to the merry village chime
When the paleo’s finished jumping on his mother
He loves to lie a-basking in the sun
Taking one consideration with another
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one
When statisticulary duty’s to be done, to be done
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one

When the journo stops ignoring how the stink went
He nobly bids all patronage farewell
When the nasty Dr Hansen to the clink went
He hung his mother’s picture in his cell
When Gleick has finished stealing from his brother
He buys a rattle for his little son
Taking one consideration with another
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one
When statisticulary duty’s to be done, to be done
A statistician’s lot is not a happy one

The AWG version of King Arthur’s song in Camelot
(with apologies to Lerner and Loewe):

It’s true! It’s true! Al Gore has made it clear.
The world is warming more and more each year.

We started burning too much fossil fuel here.
July and August now are much too hot.
For soon there will be no more snow here
In Warmalot.

The winters now arrive way past December;
It says so on the data plot.
Torrid summers linger through September
In Warmalot.

Warmalot! Warmalot!
Although it sounds a bit bizarre,
But in Warmalot, Warmalot
That’s how conditions are.

Predictions say we’re in for lots of trouble.
However, federal grants will soon appear.
The CO2 has got
To a convenient spot
For happ’ly modeling climate here
In Warmalot.

Warmalot! Warmalot!
We humans sadly are the cause,
But in Warmalot, Warmalot
We’ll make up lots of laws.
At last consensus says the issue’s settled
So science facts will never interfere.

Deniers then cannot
Find inconvenient spot
For happ’ly trading carbon credits here
In Warmalot.