Greta Thunberg had a brilliant idea, dressing up as António Guterres at the climate summit to preach her particular climate terror message. And Guterres’ idea of using Halloween as an excuse to dress up as Greta and protest in the streets of Glasgow was also great. “We are digging our own grave,” said UN Secretary General António Thunberg Guterres Zombie. And I couldn’t agree more. The leaders of the world’s richest countries, having collapsed the Glasgow airport with private jets to tell you that you have to commute by bicycle, are digging their own graves, because you can’t fool everyone all the time. More and more people are starting to wonder who exactly is taking the money that our rulers place every year at the foot of the pagan altar of environmentalism, and who has finally succeeded in cancelling any debate on the issue. They call us denialists, and maybe it’s true. But I would rather be a denialist than a green sect abductee.
In the great annual gala of environmentalist luxury, the ETA (Enormous Testicles Award) went to Joe Biden, who arrived at the Climate Summit accompanied by a convoy of 85 cars. Just to take a nap. Perhaps the secretary-general’s phrase “enough of treating nature like a toilet” was addressed to the president of the United States. Fortunately, it was water off a duck’s back, the Republicans having already stopped him from squandering twice as much money on a climate plan that seemed to have been designed between Thunberg’s parents and Xi Jinping.
I would rather be a denialist than a green sect abductee.
The contemporary Left, as I have often written, needs emergencies and exceptionalities. Even better if they are invisible, like that horrible coronavirus that has managed to curtail freedoms around the world, or global warming, which so far has only been detected with scientific unanimity inside the heads of this planet’s great rulers. I do not know how many people have died because of climate change. But maybe we should start asking this generation of political leaders for explanations for the number of people who have lost all their teeth racing around town on those green electric scooters. It’s just an idea, in case someone fancies investigating.
Nothing was discussed at COP26. It was not a summit; it was a sinkhole, where everyone agreed to bury the debate. It was not politics but publicity. I have a friend with gray hair who starred in an advertisement for hearing aids. He got paid well. But he tells me that, since that day, everyone talks to him at an unusually high volume, those that don’t outright shout at him (like I do, although I just do it to annoy). Even after he explains that he hears perfectly well, that he is only an actor, they still shout at him as if he were deaf as a doornail, because — as we have seen once more with COP26 — the thing with postmodern society is that it believes advertising over reality. It must be awful to be the guy in the image that goes with the “smoking causes impotence” warning on cigarette packs in Europe. He must be really fed up with everyone patting him on the back and saying “cheer up, buddy.”
I have been studying the Climate Summit videos in detail. I have seen the speeches, the unanimity, the mass hysteria. And, when all is said and done, the only thing I am sure of is that I am truly distressed for our leaders. I have heard them use the word “emergency” so many times during their speeches that I felt like suggesting a recess to the secretary-general in order for the speakers to go to the bathroom. At least those who needed to — the one using a catheter can carry on with his nap.
