Tuesday, April 24, 2007
You Greenies want to cut CO2?
We're calling your bluff. Today.
Us rednecks could handle it. How 'bout you, cuz?
FOLLOW-THROUGH. Is anyone else tired of celebrities who insist the rest of us should live like cavemen while they continue to sport around the world in Gulfstream jets and hundred-foot yachts? Yesterday's proposal by Sheryl Crow that we common folk should confine ourselves to a single square of toilet paper was obviously ridiculous. Yet it proves why Global Warming is such a perfect cause for idiot liberals. They love it to death because they're convinced nothing can really be done about it, which means that pious speeches and token gestures are all that's required to demonstrate absolue moral superiority over the proles.
The Kyoto Treaty they claim to want wouldn't do a damned thing to undo the catastrophe they predict for Global Warming -- except (further) beggar the Third World and plunge the civilized world into permanent economic depression. It's pretty safe to say no one is going to permit that eventuality to happen, which enables the speechifying enviro-nazis to go on shaking their heads and looking down on all the dimwits who don't buy their vision of paradise. Wouldn't it be great if there were something that really could be done, something that would force the talkers to put up or shut up?
Yeah, but there really isn't anything to be done. If the earth is warming, there's no practical way to slash CO2 emissions to any significant degree. The talkers have total license to keep on talking and trying to make the rest of us feel small. Sheryl Crow is free to pretend that a goddess like herself doesn't need more than a single square of paper to police her butt, while us lowlier apelike humans need a handful. Point made. Perfect celebrity posturing.
Or maybe not. What if there really was something that could be done to slash CO2 emissions? Something more substantive than walking around smelling like feces. Something us Great Unwashed are better equipped to do than pansy liberals. How would that go down among the self-congratulating illuminati?
The good news: there is such a thing.
It's generally the oddest items of trivia that open up whole new boulevards of thought. I followed an InstaPundit link one day last week about some current political tiff and accidentally scrolled past the referenced item to the following intriguing sentence:
I don't like motorcycles, I don't like outfits that proudly use the word "confederate," and I'm not sure you are allowed to use the word "bitchin'" anymore--but this is a bitchin'-looking motorcycle. ...
The source is Mickey Kaus, who's a thoughtful and reasonable commentator, delicately poised in the middle of the road for the purpose of taking down the absurdities of both the extreme left and the extreme right. The quoted sentence is a perfect microcosm of his overall demeanor. Esthetically, he really is a liberal. He enjoys debating his lefty professor pal Robert Wright because Robert is so damned smart and, well, superior to the oafs of the right. Kaus probably goes to foreign film festivals for fun, and though he disapproves of French political treacheries, he would most likely feel more at home in Paris than in Biloxi, Mississippi. I don't know any of this for a fact, and so I'm being hideously unfair, but if I had to pick the car he drives, I'd guess a Volvo.
Why am I being so unfair? That opening statement: "I don't like motorcycles." Wow. Not, "I'm afraid to ride a motorcycle," or "I think motorcycles are unsafe at any speed," or "I find motorcycles on the highway to be loud, unsettling, and annoying." No. We have a pure value judgment here, which is actually equated with his disapproval of any firms that would use the name "confederate." Which means that it's an ideological thing, a class thing, an us vs. them thing. He probably feels the same way about tattoos.
But there's also good stuff in Mickey Kaus. He has that old-timey liberal open-mindedness which allows him to appreciate an attractive, if alien, alternative esthetic. If he did like motorcycles, he would like the one shown at the beginning of this entry. It's called the Wraith, and it's manufactured by the Confederate Motor Company. If he'd looked at the CMC site, he'd have discovered that the company's marketing makes no use whatever of the Confederate flag. Even their tee-shirts are beautifully understated.
Not their bikes, though:
It's a pretty raw thing, the Wraith. One seat. 410 lbs. 125 hp. 4.1 gallon fuel tank. No storage. Runs like a scalded cat. The company name makes a certain kind of sense. One can't help being reminded of the wild-ass CSA technology that launched the first-ever submarine used in combat. Doomed, of course, like all Confederate plots, stratagems, and acts of derring-do. Nathan Bedford Forrest would have ordered Wraiths for all his crazed cavalry troopers. And he'd still have lost in the end.
BUT the thing about the Wraith, the thing that struck me, is this. As radical as it is, as impractical, as testosterone-overdosed as it unquestionably is, I'd be willing to bet this bike still gets better fuel economy than the next generation micro-car Green fanatics have been salivating over since they first saw it in "The Da Vinci Code."
The Zap! Smart Car. 40 mpg.
Yeah, I know. You libs and enviro-freaks probably think it's darling. On the other hand, the average redneck looks at it and flashes on an extremely unwelcome picture of John Bobbitt's truncated sex life. That's not an overreaction. That is what you liberals have in mind for all of us, isn't it? Isn't castration part of your utopian dream? Of the phallic component in cars? Of the white male patriarchy? Of the rampant predation of capitalism? Of the male authority embodied in the Judeo-Christian evangelizing tradition? Of course it is. There's really no other explanation for the contradiction in terms your whole perspective on automobiles entails.
On the one hand, you bleat continuously about the need for absolute safety, regardless of driver competence. You pore over crash test data. (Volvos good. Yugos bad. Uuuuhhh.) You pass laws mandating airbags to protect those of you who panic like teenage girls and abandon all attempts to control the vehicle when an accident appears unavoidable. Then you pass more laws mandating child seats that -- to protect them from TA DAH! your mandated airbags -- turn parents into chauffeurs for the back-seat emperors and empresses whose accessories have grown so numerous and bulky as to require "minivans" to convey them from place to place in royal comfort.
On the other hand, you wax so paranoid about "the planet" that your most fervent desire is to require the most advanced civilization in history to abandon all the fruits of technology -- to turn out the lights that freed people to read at night, to give up the warmth in winter and cool in summer that freed people from their 40,000-year slavery to the seasons, to reduce their individual lives to efficient units of energy usage in the name of saving a planet whose natural forces dwarf, in every conceivable respect, the mightiest accomplishments of the species it is your pet project to hate.
You're such weenies you demand assurance that your stupidest driving maneuver can't possibly kill you. And you're such loons that you simultaneously insist on universal submission to tin-can vehicle designs which will make you feel more divine by fantasizing the vulnerability of a planet that will keep right on going whether you live, die, or transmogrify into hermaphrodite lumps.
It's time to call your bluff. There's an easy way to cut vehicular CO2 emissions in half almost immediately. Outlaw cars. Starting right now.
From now on, we use motorcycles. Of the two- and three-wheeled variety. Guess what? The common folk you despise so much are far better equipped to deal with this transition than all you environmentally correct folk who never saw a physical risk you wouldn't go miles out of your way to avoid.
And no scoffing. It's completely do-able. The benefits to our "carbon footprints" will be huge. We won't be able to carry as much stuff around. There will, therefore, be less stuff. The inept and inattentive will be more likely to get killed. We may wind up with fewer professors, social workers, attorneys, witless adolescents, and braindead bureaucrats. That aids evolution. But without all the giant vehicles currently terrorizing our roadways and glutting our interstates, averagely competent people will still be able to get more-or-less safely from place to place, and we won't have to waste petroleum and other pollutant resources in needless expansion of our asphalt traffic arteries. There will be more incentive for people to work from home rather than doze through long commutes. Old people who shouldn't be on the roadway won't be. Operating a motor vehicle will become, once again, a skill rather than the automatic right of superannuated children who don't know the difference between a clutch and a CD player. Life will become exciting again. AND CO2 EMISSIONS WILL DECLINE BY HALF, OR MORE THAN HALF, IN THE VERY FIRST YEAR. Just how badly do you want to save this fragile little planet that's been so abused by the machinations of mankind? Enough to show a little balls? That's right. This is a test.
We've even prepared a substitution table that will show you exactly what you'll be riding given what you're driving now.
If -- like most politicians and celebrities -- you blast from airport to hotel in a black Cadillac Escondido (Escalero? Escamillo? Escompoopoo?) or a fleet of them, here's your new ride:
Please remember to wear a helmet (it's like gun control, a reassuring fiction), and don't be looking for an automatic transmission.
If you're an academic weenie who just loves the safety record of the Swedes and requires a vehicle that looks like a shoebox (Volvo) or the shoe that comes in it (Saab), here's your new, much narrower carbon footprint:
Husqvarna, the only Swedish motorcycle.
But, hey, you were just about to upgrade from that Volvo POS to a true liberal vehicle, like maybe a BMW. Here's your contribution to Global Warming mitigation:
I'm sorry. Does it look dangerous? No place for your cellphone and your f***ing Ipod? Well, you're doing it for the planet, a**hole. Get used to it.
Maybe you're one of those liberals who have solar panels on your 12,000 sq ft house and buy carbon credits to offset your 6 mpg Ferrari. Guess what? Here's your new sports vehicle:
Ducati. 'Il Monstro.'
Are you a Marxist little liberal who's never been into 'things,' and are quite happy putting around in your Prius or retro VW Bug? Sorry. You're not immune. Even you have to cut your CO2 emissions in half. To save the plant. You know. Here's your new ride:
Honda Eterno. 80 mpg.
Of course, I know some of you are laughing. You're exempt. Because you have kids. With a ton of Fisher-Price crap to haul around for the little bastards. Well, throw away the Fisher-Price crap. Here's your new minivan:
If you have more than two kids, you shouldn't. Too many carbon footprints. Get Nancy to legalize retro-active environmentally friendly abortion (RAEFA). It's for the planet, remember. Which will die completely to death unless we save it.
But I forgot. Some of you are celebrities. Who need to cover vast distances in order to sing about how everybody else must vut back on toilet paper, electricity, and heat. You need stretch limos....
You need to haul your expensive sound equipment to the stadium...
And you need -- what was it?...
Three tractor trailers.
And six cars.
Truth is, we're ready, Sheryl. Millions of us who already know how to ride these things. Millions of us who are dying to watch you wipe your pampered ass on the pavement.
Are you ready?
The breadbasket of America is waiting.
All in all, it's a simple choice. Live to ride, people. Ride to live, libs. Are you listening, Sheryl?
Back when the warming started. She used too many squares. Bitch.