Eat Bugs and Chill for a Good Sustainable War
The annual dance of the green goblins at COP 29 is over, the verdict is in and it’s great news for old-timers freezing to death under the smartmeter jackboot. The climate buccaneers have decided to squeeze another $300 billion dollars out of taxpayers like you, to give away to foreign (but more important) people far, far away. To placate the Sun-god (even further away) a tiny third-world dictatorship called Britain is investing heavily in Bill Gates’ fart-free milk en route to a farm-free future. Although that future (under chemtrail skies) is dark, and the weather (appropriately modified) is primed to kill us, citizens can delay the holocaust by scrapping the car, bricking up the fireplace, eating vegan and staying indoors. Unless you’re in the COP 29 crew, of course, in which case, park your Lear-jet at the door and ride a stretch limo to the Steak Panties Boys Club. Once inside, you can burn $100-dollar bills in the stove, chew raw beef and bang renewable sex-workers up the non-binary wazoo.
TOP OF THE COPS
If you ever wondered what COP means (and I bet you didn’t) it’s actually short for ‘Conference Of Parties’ -and boy, do these COPs know how to party. Exactly how well is a moot point. Just for fun I googled last year’s party budget, asking “how much did COP 28 cost?” I figured that 12 months on they’d at least be admitting to some kind of round number. The answer -courtesy of ‘Google AI overview’- was-
Not very helpful, but as COP 28 was held in Dubai it was probably a case of money not being an issue. As we know, all numbers in Dubai come with a long string of zeros attached. Perhaps the details of COP 27 -held in my home town of Glasgow- would be a little more specific. We Scots are rather precise about our spending, probably because the nation has been bankrupt since about 300 B.C. So I googled the same how much question and-
was the reply. I hadn’t asked for an itemised bill -a rough approximation would have been enough- but when it comes to paying their way, the Conference Of Parties goes all coy and quiet. Not so much as a rough guess. On the other hand, the ‘related information’ and ‘other details’ offered instead consist entirely of exact numbers. The exact sums being how much they are intending to screw out of you, me and every other sucker in the northern hemisphere. The COPs can be astonishingly specific with our money. And what do we get in return? Why, a hot bowl of waffle worthy of the average first-year climate-studies student…
IMPORTANT NEWS FROM SPECIAL PEOPLE
“UN Climate Change Executive Secretary Simon Stiell highlighted that the new finance goal agreed at the UN Climate Conference in Baku is an insurance policy for humanity.” (An insurance policy you and I -dear reader- don’t get to choose). Simon (who no-one has ever been elected to do anything, anywhere) said: “This deal will BLAAAH BLAAH BLAH and protect billions of lives. It will BLAAAH BLAAH BLAH more jobs, stronger growth, cheaper and cleaner energy for all.”
But in case the 400 journalistees in the room were too busy Googling ‘vape-bars in Baku” to pay attention, Simon pulled on his knuckledusters, waved his stiletto and added… “But like any insurance policy – it only works if the premiums are paid in full, and on time.” Got the message, paisan? No doubt mild-mannered Miriam Figwittle from the Guardian underlined Simon’s warning in red ink.
HOAXIER THAN THOU
Although it’s a primitive religion aimed at idiots, the Climate Cult is happy to lean on the wobbly crutch of Christianity for inspiration. Readers with a taste for long boring sentences will notice how the Old and New Testaments were mirrored by the way Global Warming literature got eclipsed by that of Climate Change. More updating has taken place, however, in the shift from crucifixion to carbon-fixation. In the pre-industrial era high priests in search of promotion were obliged to make their way to the Pope’s permanent conference-centre in the heart of Rome. By contrast, blessed with the miracle of private planes, the coven of modern climate-wizards migrate from place to place, erecting a pop-up Vatican City every year. In November 2024 the city of Baku in Azerbaijan was the proud host, with predictable consequences for international harmony, global infrastrucure and local prostitutes.
It’s
been a long road from Bethlehem to Baku. In hindsight, Christian
Soldiers -mainly equipped with pure hearts- stood little chance of
resisting the superior technology of the Weather Warriors. In the
absence of laptops and spellcheck, book-production was a rather
difficult business for Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Their combined
output of only four rather samey gospels looks pretty tame next to the
library of horoscopic guesswork born of the Intergovernmental Panel on
Climate Change. Mind you, predicting the future apocalypse with a dodgy
temperature graph is a whole different ball-game from re-writing the
Oldest Story Ever Told. All the familiar themes are present, however,
whether you’re courting Christ or capping carbon. Original sin (breathing) the sacrificial lamb (meat is murder) the crucial nature of resurrection (recycling) -not to mention the binary choice between ascent to heaven (Net Zero) or descent into hell (the fiery inferno). Prophets abound (John the Baptist; Moses; Al the Holy Gore; St Greta of the Bong) and there is no shortage of geo-engineered unprecedented weather-events to emphasise the Anger of the Gods.
But in the climate death-cult there is no prospect of jam tomorrow. It’s not a heaven waiting but a hell of repetitive misery. Every single bonus of civilised life must soon be stripped away and our human nature replaced with a semi-mechanical process. If that sounds extreme, just think of the very specific demands of the COP controllers.
In your zero-fun future, lifestyle-choices will not be permitted. After a large enough program of vaccinations to tweak your cell-structure into line, your life, lifestyle and lifespan will be just like everyone else’s; the entire population of earth joined in an identical slow motion trudge to the assisted-suicide graveyard. As for your social life, imagine all the world on the same Facebook page, clicking and liking on cue.
100% predictable and constantly surveilled, each day will be spent in a comfy total-control prison of regulations and laws to prevent deviation from the robotic norm. Everything will be available (in simulated form) but nothing bought or sold (by you). Electricity will run the whole world from a giant generator you will never see, but no actual fuel will ever be consumed. Instead, unlimited energy will be magicked from the air by technology too clever for you to understand but too expensive for you to afford. There will be no alternatives.
Life will be sweet as a prozac pie so long as you stay indoors with an AI chatbot for company in your 200 square-foot kennel. Schooled by a state-appointed guardian, children will grow to a limited, sustainable size, eating Linda McCartney cockroach pasties and chugging Yougov hydro-pop, fortified with tasty mRNA altering micro-vitaminnows. (Contents may vary). A constantly updating library of state-permitted domestic property will be viewable on Amazon Ultimatronic. Home delivery will be standard for all pre-selected items except babies, which will be part of the Click and Collect range at the YouBreed superstore.
A HOAX FOR ALL SEASONS
For obvious reasons the climate hoax works best on the young and/or stupid. By 2040 nobody will have a memory older than Instagram, and climate propaganda will be the place where voodoo meets the mafia. The IPCC will rattle a necklace of Al Gore’s bones while the next Simon Schiell growls youse bedda pay up or da planet gets it. 12 year-old ‘scientists’ will nod as an AI-generated Isaac Newton with huge breasts and blue hair announces the next doomsday deadline. Only 10 Years To Save The Earth did the job for the last half century so I expect it’ll still be the punchline of COP 66.
What the climate cult lacks is a coherent explanation for its misplaced anger. If we are seriously expected to believe that carbon emissions are a problem, then the clear and ever-present enemy is the one thing climateers never mention, namely the whizz-bang in-your-face, blow you to hell, uranium-tipped, lead-lined clusterfuck of emissions known as modern warfare. Warfare as in, oh lets pick one at random…NATO v Russia, a very global conflict, but one mysteriously limited (by prior arrangement) to the arena formerly known as Ukraine.
War, you see, raises awkward questions for climateers, e.g. how much ‘climate damage’ was done by NATO’s explosive destruction of the Nordstream pipelines in September 2022 -the single biggest deliberate gas-release in world history? [CLICK HERE for my exclusive report at the time] Given the colossal scale of gases that spurted into the atmosphere why was COP27 not 100% focussed on the worst explosive emission since COPs began? Only six weeks after the sabotage, the COP circus was erected in Scotland. Travel agents say you can get to Bornholm (where the pipes blew) from Glasgow (the COP 27 venue) in eight and half hours. In a private jet you could get there and back between lunch and supper. Did the oh-so concerned COP crew zoom over for a look-see? Nah, too busy distributing other people’s money.
STORMY WEATHER
In the fantasy-world where the carbon output of a cow’s arse must be counted, the cost of military activities isn’t just the elephant in the room, it’s a herd of 20-ton African jumbos trampling the entire building as flat as a flat-earth pancake. But war and climate-change inhabit a parallel universe where crises never meet, and have no effect on each other. Since the day of climate-sceptic Donald Trump’s election victory, the perpetual war machine has been ramped up, with long-range hi-tech weapons fired directly into Russia by Ukrainians with grinning NATO ‘advisers’ standing behind them reading the instruction manual out loud. So, Mr Biden, Mr Starmer, Mr Macron, who can tell me the carbon footprint of a Storm Shadow Missile? (Hint: not google AI overview).
Using the truthiest of sources possible (the RAF) the SSM carbon footprint shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. One missile weighs 1300 kilos, travels at over 600 mph and carries a 450 kilo explosive warhead. So by my calculation, that’s 1300K times 600M plus 450KX minus the polar bear family you first thought of. Which we can all agree comes out at 2 million pints of greenhouse premium, which is the equivalent of a fortnight’s holiday on the moon or five Taylor Swift concerts.
For the scientifically challenged, this means the carbon footprint of a Storm Shadow Missile is a big effing number. Even bigger when you chuck in a couple of million bullets a month for two years, a hundred diesel-guzzling tanks driving in circles round Zelensky Palace, a rocket for every minute of the day, giant jeeps for shopping trips and squadrons of F-16 jet fighters writing naughty Russian words in the sky over Kiev. Nobody has calculated the potentially catastrophic output of 800,000 soldiers farting in terror as death hurtles towards them in any one of a dozen airborn forms, but I’m sure Bill Gates will be along shortly with a vaccine designed to stifle their unwanted emissions.
See you in Brazil, Bill!
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