Carbon Past, Carbon Present, Carbon Yet to Come

                                 

It's a hard job keeping people terrified when you run out of pandemics. Hardly a mask in sight, unwanted booster-shots piling up in the empty jabattoirs... Fortunately for wanabee dictators, there's always the Global Warming con to fall back on. However, when all you have is Climate Change, every snowflake looks like an avalanche, and the snag is, people kind of like snow. Snowballs, snowmen (and women), snowglobes, Christmas, sledges, skis, the winter Olympics and penguins, for example. December is here, and it's time for the annual launch of the War On Snow.

In the pre-hysteria world, the above"news briefing" would have read "It might snow next week." Not exactly headline news in December. But for worshippers at the Church of Climate Catastrophe, weather is a kind of karmic pit-bull that follows all mankind around, seeking reparations for the sins of Carbon Past. 

Never mind that the only people without a vengeful weather-dog dangling from their backside are the Chinese, who are the Uber-producers of the Carbon Present. Covid, Carbon, it matters not, they can pump it out in spades knowing that us rich folks in the West will feed the Rotweiler-sorry, World Bank-  another arm and a leg to balance the scales. And hotwire another £50 million to Bejing in "Foreign Aid" into the bargain, for reasons nobody even tries to explain.

Perhaps the Happy Hindu billionaire distributing our hard-earned tax-money far and wide is simply paying the Chinese for tackling all the dirty science we pretend we don't do, like weaponising bat-viruses and faking the weather. Here's a short (60 seconds)  but pertinent sample of China's casual approach to creating weather...

 Of course, they're only talking rain here, but it's no secret (in geo-engineering world) that snow, sleet and hail are equally easy to manufacture. Don't believe me? Well, let's take a look at what happened after  the Ruling Family of the United Arab Emirates hired -in 2006-  a commercial weather-modification company called Meteo Systems. Meteo bragged about conducting 'secret weather trials' in the desert. Four years later, in 2010, the Daily Mail caught up with events...

 

 

As can be seen in this rather touching artist's illustration, Meteo appear to have a straightforward ground-based rain-making apparatus (NB why no photographs?). So did it work? Let's hear the report on the Meteo results (the writer confused the word 'Meteo' with 'Metro' but it is the DM after all)...

 

Fifty-two in a row! Not bad for making rain in the desert. But some of us sharp-eyed 'citizen journalists' had noticed that prior to Meteo's 2010 success, a rather more astonishing 'weather event' took place on the nearby coast....  "In 2009, the UAE coastal region of Ras Al Khaimah was -incredibly- blanketed under 10 inches of snow, prompting one inhabitant to remark that "the local dialect did not even have a word for snow".

 

                                 THE ARID 'DESERT' ON THE UAE COAST, 2009
 

In subsequent years, a series of equally preposterous engineered snowfalls and floods brought chaos to various UAE regions. Inhabitants got so annoyed that their complaints to officials about the obviously manufactured weather led to the local Royal Family threatening to imprison anyone publishing snow-photos on social media. So next time anyone tells you weather-modification (WETMOD) is a 'conspiracy theory', tell them to take a holiday in the sun on the beaches of Ras Al Khaimah and the local peasants will put them straight.

[ For exclusive DETAILS and much more INFO about Meteo etc. CLICK HERE ]  

Yet the two (extremely dodgy) guys running Meteo Systems are very much  the thin end of the WETMOD wedge. If a couple of well-connected international wide-boys can pull off such 'weather miracles' while hiding out in their tax-free Swiss HQ, it's a no-brainer that your government -indeed most western governments- can make all the weather they want. And believe me, they do.

The next time some Climate Cardinal tells you how "extreme weather events" are happening because you eat steak, drive a Skoda and like to keep warm in winter, you might wish to stick two juxtaposed fingers up in the traditional manner and throw shoes. Week in, week out, the military/corporate science freaks are -literally- firing chemically enhanced piss at your head and telling you it's raining.    

                            IT TAKES A VILLAGE

 All this sprang to mind because I'm currently staying closeby a small Cambridgeshire village that has a reasonably well-produced parish magazine, which I happened to read. Every parish mag in England has at least one local who uses the platform to vent on their audience usually in indignant yet respectful tones (instead of the paroxysms of foaming rage you get from the likes of me). These types are invariably avid consumers of mainstream media like the BBC and broadsheet newspapers, which they naively assume to be supplying honest reporting, as opposed to non-stop propaganda. You can't blame them; it's normal for many.

This particular chap -we'll call him Mister X-  was, we learned, exasperated beyond patience with the COP 27 conference. Not because of its gruesome assembly of bloated globalist thieves, the balls-out hypocrisy or the cringe-making ugliness of the spectacle. No, his anger sprang from a perception that these gatherings -while well-intended- achieve nothing tangible in the way of meaningful international action. The "govern me harder, daddy" complaint, if you like. In fairness, thta's pretty much what you'd expect from someone whose monthly geo-political overview is stuck between a 45-word comic poem about arthritis and an advert for bingo night at the church hall.  

X did, however, succeed in making one very potent observation -namely, that any VIP who attended the recent clutch of COP jamborees had enjoyed five-star hospitality at places including some of the most expensive tourist venues on earth: Dubai, Sharm el Sheikh, Madrid, Buenos Aires, Milan, Katowice, Durban, Bonn and so on. (How Glasgow sneaked into the list is anybody's guess). Mister X, we can assume, woudn't mind a few weeks of that kind of R&R himself.

As far as I'm concerned, any serious globalist needs an impressive collection of holiday experiences to tell their concubines and rent-boys about -but that's why I'm never quoted in anyone's parish magazine. I can almost admire the chutzpah it takes to spend your life on an endless carousel of luxury restaurants and elite brothels, travelling in limos and Lear-jets, while lecturing the rest of about tightening our belts. You have to hand it to the Wolves of Warmism, they go right ahead and rub our noses in it. (Unless "it" is snow, of course.)

FEELGOOD FACTOR

Musing on this, I spotted the thread that binds the mindless middle-class to the Church of Climate Catastrophe. The weak-spot of both globalist big-wigs and parish-mag columnists is their superiority complex. The particular village that is blessed with the insights of Mister X is, of course, one of those semi-rural safe-spaces where property is eye-wateringly expensive and crammed with moderately successful city-folk who fled the incoming migrant tide.

It's the kind of village where Sunday Service will include the vicar's command that all pray for the rootless, desperate asylum-seeker in his hour of need (the sixty minutes between Calais and the sea-taxi to Kent). These are the kind of parishioners who will indeed offer up a migrant-centred prayer - but it'll be a heartfelt plea to the Almighty to prevent the Home Office parking a couple of hundred hairy-assed refugees in the Holiday Inn half a mile away.      

It's just the same for the Priests of Climate, though. It's not enough for them to wallow in the luxury of rules for thee, not for me,  oh no. They have to feel good about themselves as well. COP 27 was actually the church itself, within which the carbon atom is viewed as an ever-persistent Satan, forever seducing the weak (you and I) into the degenerate use of wood-fired stoves, traditional food and cheap transport. 

And when you stand back from the Cultists, you realise that as far as the majority of people are concerned, the mainstream newspapers are really just parish magazines. Anyone mad enough to buy the Guardian will never leave the village. Ditto the Telegraph, Times or Daily Mail. Readers come to such villages to hide from reality in the first place; there's no upside to resisting the consensus in such small, narrow-minded communities. 

But in the real world, most people won't touch newspapers any more, because they just don't care to hear any more of this claptrap. The illusion of a  "national conversation" can be maintained on tv and radio, where the same stable of tame "experts" have their faux debates and spats around the clock, but illusion is all it adds up to. Only kids and kiddie-brained poseurs beat the drum for climate.

Every day in every way, everyone is gouting carbon from every orifice, personal or property. It doesn't matter if it's coming out your front spout or your exhaust, your extractor fan or the chimney. Plants love it, the clouds know what do with it and the planet figured out how to cope a gazillion years ago. Relax. Christmas is coming: I heard it from the Ghost of Carbon Yet to Come. 

Ian Andrew-Patrick   

The "Snow Woman of Hay on Wye" -pictured at the top of this post- was my first and last attempt at snow-sculpture, created on a whim in December of 2007. She was briefly the talk of the town, and survived a good six hours before a ritual beheading and various amputations courtesy of local youth. Season's Greetings to you all!