The American Spectator : The Spectacle Blog : Climate, from the Beginning

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CATO’s website is hosting the entirety of the recent “Hannity” special here. I participated in the production, and in so doing was impressed by the piles of books on the producers’ desks, which they said they read prior to interviewing any of us. Speaking to them further, it was clear this was so. In other words, they came to the production having done homework, as opposed to with a predetermined outcome.

The show reflects this immersion. As I wrote to the producers after viewing it, it is a thorough and well-produced. Most importantly, there is much background, footage and many quotes you may not have encountered, including some which are proof positive that what you have been told is nonsense and just part of the accepted political narrative.

Oh, and yes, it places into further relief the arrogance of the members of the political class who stand by their vote for cap-and-trade as they seek re-election or, ahem, higher office.

Grzmlyk| 9.8.10 @ 1:11PM

Reminds me of the medieval itinerant sorcerer who rode into an isolated village on a donkey. The village was filled with unsophisticated rubes who had never left the confines of the town or even read a book.

The sorcerer told the townsfolk a terrifying tale: On his way into the village, just yesterday, he had come upon an enormous cave that lay just beyond the farthest hill, beyond the town's protective wall, where no living soul in the village had ever trod.

Inside that cave, he assured the townsfolk, dwelt an ogre that had lived there since before time. This ogre was so large, so mean, so evil, so malevolent, that only a sorcerer of his skill could even gaze upon the beast and survive, let alone slay it.

Being a wise and kind man possessed of magical powers, the sorcerer was able to look into the mind of the ogre, and what he related to the populace sent chills through every last spine, for he told them the ogre was planning to descend from his cave in just a few days, enter the town, and kill every last man, woman and child in it.

He had been, said the sorcerer, a happy ogre before the town came into being, feeding off of the birds and the wild animals that were later driven away by the fields that the townsfolk had hewed out of the countryside that they might plant their corn. And as the townsfolk had babies, the need for corn had grown apace, and the fields had stretched farther into the countryside.

Now the ogre was very angry that the townsfolk had carved fertile fields from the pristine wilderness and he was also very hungry, deprived as he was of the plentiful beasts that once roamed the land. He planned to get revenge on the townsfolk - and obtain food for the winter in the bargain.

BUT, said the sorcerer, there was no need for the gentle townsfolk to fear. He, the great sorcerer, knew how to deliver them from the clutches of the evil beast, if only they would give him all of their gold that he might melt it into a giant stake that he would drive through the heart of the ogre.

It had to be gold, said the sorcerer, because the ogre was impervious to every other substance, and even though it was a soft metal, the sorcerer knew that the ogre's constitution was such that its flesh would give way to the metal like butter before a hot knife.

However, the stake had to be as big as the tallest tree so that it would be sure to pierce the heart of the giant devil, and the sorcerer worried that nothing less than all of the gold in the village would suffice.

The townsfolk gladly gave the sorcerer all of their wedding rings, their goblets, their finery, all of the stores from their treasury and even the fillings from their teeth.

The sorcerer took all of their possessions with great and solemn gravity, for the task before him was mighty indeed, and, as he told the mayor, he wasn't sure there was enough gold to make a large enough stake. But, to the great gratitude of all, he vowed that he would do his best with whatever the townsfolk could produce, as long is they held nothing back.

He disappeared into his room at the inn - being a polite and gracious sorcerer, he could not decline the innkeeper's hospitality when the good old man insisted he have the finest accommodations the town could provide.

The sorcerer waited patiently as the citizenry lined up outside with their trinkets, eager to hand them over to the sorcerer, look into his compassionate eyes and be acknowledged by the Great Man for their contribution to the Great Cause.

Then, once the sorcerer had somberly collected all of the town's gold and blessed its citizenry for its communal effort, he placed all of it into a sack that dwarfed the largest farmhouse in the town. He explained that he would go into the Forest of No Return to melt the gold down and forge it into a stake, for a fire large enough for this task would be too hot and too unsafe to build anywhere near the dwellings and, for their own safety, he would forge the stake far beyond their line of sight.

When the Great man mounted his donkey, the animal was barely able to stand under the weight of the bag. But the sorcerer was undaunted and, as gave a gallant wave to the assembled people, he assured every last one of them that he wouldn't even spare his own life in his commitment to rid them of the ogre once and for all.

The townsfolk thanked him effusively for his selflessness as he disappeared into the Forest of No Return to forge the stake.

Some swore they saw him emerge from the forest at a great distance the following day, atop his donkey, dragging the newly-forged stake behind him with great effort. Others say the stake was so large that its glinting off the sunlight completely obscured their vision of him as he disappeared behind the peak of the farthest hill.

The great sorcerer was never seen again. After several days, the townsfolk threw a mighty celebration, for whatever the fate of the great and good man, the ogre must have been slain, because it never descended into the town.

About five years later, another sorcerer entered the village on his donkey . . . .