Do Not Let Logic Become a Buzzkill

I wish I had the number for Al Gore’s compost-powered personal cell phone, because I want to call him and thank him for this delightful weather. It’s about 60 degrees outside, bright and sunny, at almost 11:00 a.m., in Miami, in mid-April. For this city, that is COLD. I’m sure this somehow proves global warming exists, because everything proves global warming exists. Global warming exists, therefore anything that happens is evidence that it exists. That is the position of leftists everywhere, and it seems totally logical to me.

Here’s something that may make you laugh. One of the things I pray for every day is a collapse of the global warming fraud. Partly because it’s destructive and expensive and dishonest, but also because I want God to remind us that He controls the weather.

It used to be that when natural events made human beings suffer, people examined themselves to see if they had sinned or in some way fallen short. Even heathens worried that they had upset their false gods. Academics claim early religions were motivated largely by a desire to assure good weather and good harvests.

Now we begin by blaming George Bush, regardless of the nature of the misfortune, and then we blame capitalism and the United States and, if at all possible, the Jews. The answer to our problems is to cripple industry and commerce, so we can be just as happy and healthy as people in primitive cultures, who die at 30, in the dirt, infested with parasites. The truth is, the ultimate source of health and prosperity and peace and so on is God. And you can only cheat Him for so long before he cuts off your allowance.

Wealth is a tremendous gift. But now leftists call it a curse, claiming it’s “killing the planet.” On the one hand, we’re supposed to believe living things have the capacity to evolve and adapt to anything. On the other, we are told that a two-degree change in the average temperature will turn the world into a lifeless rock. And we’re positive the change is caused by the things that make us prosperous. The things that bring us money to buy medicine and food and books. The things that enable us to give our surplus to the needy. The leftist position is, we should kill our prosperity just to be on the safe side.

Okay. Good plan.

Some leftists say we can save the planet if we kill the economy right now. But the leftists I truly love are the ones who say it’s already too late. The world is definitely going to die because of the stuff we’ve already done! The first type of leftist, I understand. They want to use ecology as a weapon to inflict socialism and totalitarianism and atheism on us. A weapon to make us dependent on the state. The second kind…they’re just FUN. They’ve completely lost sight of traditional leftist goals. They’ve forgotten that they’re supposed to be manipulating us to change. They just want us to feel bad and die. For some reason, that cracks me up. They’re like a yellow light at a traffic intersection. They don’t inspire you to stop what you’re doing. They inspire you to FLOOR IT BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. Get out there and burn some gasoline while you still can! Eat, drink, and drive a big tasteless Humvee, because tomorrow we will fry like earthworms on a hot sidewalk. Like computer-generated polar bears in a lying documentary.

I still can’t believe Al Gore says polar bears, which are semi-aquatic, are drowning. What next? Maybe we should go put little life jackets on otters! Parachutes for pigeons! I am too busy. I volunteer Heidi Cullen for these jobs. The otters will probably resist, because they’re bitter and religious, but that problem can be solved with a tranquilizer gun. When the pain of the bites and scratches gets to be too much, they can shoot Heidi Cullen. That will make her feel better.

April has been really nice so far. Sometimes April is hot and miserable here, but this year, I’ve been able to sit outside and relax without sticking to the patio furniture. Thanks, Al. Keep the good weather coming, my man. You probably won’t feel the weather, because you’re always inside a climate-controlled mega-mansion or an SUV the size of an aircraft carrier, but the rest of us–the bitter, religious, gun-loving haters of immigrants–enjoy it a lot.

The unseasonable cold is doing good things for my plants. Supposedly, it helps tomato blossoms set, and I suddenly have a bunch of them on my previously pathetic Brandywine vine, so I have newfound hope that I may one day grow a full-size red tomato. The biggish yellow tomato on my Kentucky beefsteak vine will be ready to pick in a day or two. I’m hoping the city-fied squirrels here are too stupid to know what a tomato is. Otherwise, it may be time to risk arrest by shooting them from inside the house. There’s a cool type of ammunition made for this purpose. It’s called a colibri round. It’s a .22 cartridge with no powder. The primer drives the slug at air rifle speeds. Very quiet. I guess if I were to go on a squirrel murder spree, I’d use a regular air gun, in order to avoid becoming famous as the nut who fired a gun in Coral Gables. Still, they’re neat. I almost wish I still had rats.

Funny thing about tomatoes…the vines seem to grow from the ground out. If you drive a nail into a tree when it’s a year old, the nail will be the same distance from the ground in a hundred years. Trees grow from their tops; the wood doesn’t rise as the tree grows. But it seems like my tomatoes keep getting higher and higher, as if the vines are growing from the bottoms, not the tops. Is that possible?

I have a new batch of Tobago seasoning peppers, which are supposed to be mild but otherwise similar to habaneros. I grabbed a few and put them on takeout Mexican the other day. First, I tried a piece of one to see how hot it was. It seemed very hot for a mild pepper. Then I realized it wasn’t hot at all, because I wasn’t crying or drinking from a quart glass of ice water. My truly hot peppers are insufferable. Still, even though the Tobago peppers were good, I have to say I prefer my Home Depot cayennes, which have tons of cherry flavor and just enough heat.

My Trinidad Scorpion bush is a monster. Huge leaves the color of spinach. Lots of blossoms. And I think the bugs are afraid of it. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the peppers. They are supposed to be hot enough to etch glass.

The peppers I’m most excited about are the habanero golds I planted from a store-pepper seed. The bush is beautiful, and it’s loaded with huge peppers. They’re nearly as big as Clementines, and they’re still green! The pepper I used for seed was gigantic. Maybe three inches long. And the flavor was stupendous. If these are as good as that one, you might be smart to ask me for seeds.

I hammered the yard and, as collateral damage, myself with bifenthrin spray yesterday. “Orange dog” caterpillars are constantly attacking the citrus. And I will not have it. For some reason, the Persian lime is immune to everything. It’s a beast. The other stuff, I have to keep an eye on.

Seems like I have no problem growing sour things and things that burn, but it’s hard to grow sweet things. Perhaps this is a reflection of my personality. Maybe I should put Marv in charge of the tomatoes and fruit. He won’t even bite the veterinarian.

Hmm…I spend a lot of time sitting. Maybe that means I could grow potatoes. That will be a useful skill in the full bloom of the Ethanol Famine.