'Tis the Season - The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
‘Tis the Season

Deck the halls with baling wire,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season that is dire,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Don we now our suits of mourning,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient summer warning,
Fa la la la la, and sis-boom-bah!

Yes, it’s the time of year formerly known as summertime. You remember summertime; when the living was easy under the boardwalk during those lazy, hazy, crazy days of soda and pretzels and beer. In days of yore, summer was celebrated as a three-month-long respite from the chill of winter; a haven from school for kids and a laid-back reprieve for adults.

What were once long, languorous days filled from top to bottom with the delights of nature and leisure are now, more or less, like any other time of year. Today’s summer world is full, not of glorious childhood freedom or adult relaxation, but of rigorously scheduled sports, camp, and vacation plans.

But even the little enjoyment left to us by the demands of modern life has been snatched away by the jaws of today’s soap-opera media. The soaps, as some of you who hung around the house all summer may remember, are the stuff of sudden and calamitous happenings, the worst of which usually occur on Fridays to keep the audience on pins and needles for as long as possible.

In that tradition, the media have deemed that we must now spend our summers — at least until the end of August when they go full press into their annual Bush vacation-bash mode — cowering in anticipation of the wrath of a god so evil, he would allow a major U.S. city to be built below sea level and run by Democrats.

See the blazing Earth before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
As the greenie left implores us.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Follow them to where they’re headin’,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
While they tell of Armageddon,
Fa la la la la, and Kumbaya.

Last year’s meltdown in the Chocolate City has doomed us to a future of constant and shrill warnings regarding that phenomenon we used to call weather. It’s gotten so bad here in Connecticut, that a few years ago, in addition to our winter storm watches, alerts, and blizzard scares we were also treated to what were called “flat-roof” warnings. If we hearty New Englanders are stupid enough not to clear the snow from roofs, why would we have built our houses in the first place?

But a degree of gullible stupidity is what the media presume of their consumers in order to keep them perpetually fearful. Proving it’s never too early to start worrying about things over which you have little control, they have, with great gusto, been trumpeting the arrival of hurricane season. Like young children anticipating Christmas, the press has visions of sandbags dancing in their heads. Like a ballteam breaking spring training, they are tanned and rested, confident of another banner year.

This season they have a new pitch in their arsenal. In the perfect propaganda storm, a strong surge of liberal media has merged with a high pressure global warming front to reach the conclusion that the coming Sturm und Drang and its accompanying misery will be of our own making; that is, we greedy, SUV-driving, Kyoto-hating, CO2-exhaling Republicans will be responsible for sending forth tempests unseen since Prospero. The only solution, I suppose, is that the entire GOP hold its collective breath, at least until November 7 of this year.

So be aware, alert, and earth-friendly and remember: if you must evacuate, please do so on foot or bicycle so as not to further offend the greenhouse gods. And in that liberal spirit, I wish you all a happy hurricane season and urge you not to procrastinate, and get your shopping done early; just please, stay away from Wal-Mart.

Harken to the chatt’ring classes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Mind you all your greenhouse gasses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Come and join us, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Masters of the wind and weather,
Fa la la la la, and falderal.

Lisa Fabrizio is a columnist who hails from Connecticut. You may write her at mailbox@lisafab.com.

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