I had promised myself I would not get political in this blog. Not because I’m apolitical; on the contrary, I am, without a doubt, a dyed in the wool, scum progressive with woo woo ideas of love, peace and pass the organically grown hempseed milk and shade grown dark roasted coffee bean latte and can I have that in my own cup?
But damn it all I just couldn’t help myself this morning when I sat up at my now (Fuck!) usual 5am wake up, in my organic cotton comforter and sheets on my way too expensive and infinitely most comfortable Brentwood Home Ojai bed (this is really not a plug for the company, but it is by far the best bed on which I have slept, so far), and said, “It’s the environment, stupid!” To no one in particular.
Did I have a dream with Chicken Little running around screaming about environmental degradation, the end of life as we might know it, (were we awake – not coffee awake, silly- enough to realize it) that the end times are here and not because some asshole with a sandwich board says so, but because the REAL scientific warning signs are all saying “we are fucked”?
No it wasn’t, unfortunately, a dream. It was actually a mostly silent panic I have been experiencing and has been growing since the mid to late 1980’s when I made my own cloth grocery bags, located places to take my bottles, cans and paper to recycle and met with other like minded eco-warriors to discuss how to save the earth. Sure, at the time we might’ve been slightly more worried about Russia and the US still doing a nuclear boom boom, then again I figured if THEY didn’t blow us up humans might yet find a way to do ourselves in, taking the rest of nature with us. Admittedly I did feel somewhat righteous and holier than you know who in my nearly manic behavior, but this was my normal, even while being married, having two kids and owning a business. I also belonged to Multi-taskers Anonymous, which is now a defunct organization having only one member, me. As I look back, shaking my head with more worry than any therapist I know might have a slot for, I naively believed we had more time – there were signs, though small, people might be realizing we needed to make changes.
That was more than thirty years ago, and obviously the bloodsucking, cocksucker, fossil fuel corporations (they are NOT people!)whose clever advertising manipulations: y’all gotta buy another gas guzzling Excommunicator, drink some more Cocaloca in our convenient plastic bottles and dump em in the big blue ocean, felt that money was more important than a healthy environment for us real humans and animals and plants.
All this makes me scratch my head wondering if these corpora-fuckers have another planet they’re not telling us about. OR Are they NOT actually human CEO’s but outer space aliens- o wall might work there Trumpsters?) Just when are the nitwits still supporting the imbecile in the White House gonna figure out that worrying about their AR15’s ain’t gonna mean nada if they don’t have air to breathe with which to get their fat, greedy, allegedly Christian hands to pull the trigger? For that matter the unborn they are allegedly so worried about saving, will be up in pretend heaven, wiping their imaginary brows with relief they hadn’t been born to a world where no Republican gave enough of a shit about listening to the scientists warning them of humanity’s demise.
Whew. Frankly I’m surprised I got that out without raising my blood pressure more than a couple points. I was going to go o about the people running for President but that’’s for another day. Right now I’m going to sit back with a cup of loose chamomile tea, do some deep breathing, make some art and pet my dog.
Even though we are possibly doomed. Please Don’t forget to bring your bags to the grocery store and wake up to your use of fossil fuels.