Wednesday, May 31, 2017

May 31, 2017

Dear Diary,

Maybe it's the Librium, but I'm getting a little concerned about what Carrot Head is doing out there. I was fine with him bowing and scraping selling hardware to the camel jockeys Saudis and even the NATO lecture he gave to the Euro-trash our allies.  This Paris Climate thing, however, is a whole different kettle of fish.

Ask anyone, especially Al Gore, and you know this planet is heading straight into the toilet. I'm not really sure if anyone really knows why or how the world is supposed to end, but Spacebook is filled with pictures about it and there are thousands of scientists all over the world who want to make money with their books insist that if we don't get our act together, the polar ice caps are going to melt.

I'm actually okay with the sea level rising up a bit. It might be the only way we could get our money out of that New Jersey beachfront development deal one of Bill's cronies stuck to us back in the nineties. Turns out the "beachfront property with huge potential" was actually two hundred acres of mosquito-infested wetlands about two miles inland, just east of a garbage dump that even the seagulls avoid. Not exactly where Gidget frolics, if you get my meaning.

I figure a one degree bump in climate translates to one foot of rise in sea level, which should bring the breakers within a hundred yards of souvenir shops filled with paintings of whales and dolphins that passes for art with blue collar morons you can only find in Hawaiian junk art galleries. Slapping a high price tag on a Creating an artists' space for large format seascapes is like printing money an important part of giving back to the cultural heritage of the Jersey shore, only without the winos and bums.

Maybe this whole dismissal of the Paris Accords wouldn't be such a bad thing. I should probably call Murray, our Jewish tax guy.  He knows all the angles.

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