There was a huge sigh of relief at the lizard Oz this morning. A bigly bounce, and all not lost, even as another turncoat hovered into view, a rat in the ranks designed to rankle …
But the pond wasn't happy. Why on a day of such joyous news did the reptiles only manage to serve up the thoughts of the 357k Dame Groan and young Adam?
Sure, the pond should praise young Adam for alternately blathering about a lack of governance, and adopting a Donaldism, because what we need above all is Trumpism as a way of elevating the political debate …
But dammit, the pond felt the need to clamber into the DeLorean and swing back to yesterday when the full glory of the reptiles was on display to the world … and the pond lacked the time, space and energy to cover that noble rage of reptiles …
And then the pond chanced upon a poignant story in
Politico, dubbed
The New Language of Climate Change, proposing
Scientists and meteorologists on the front lines of the climate wars are testing a new strategy to ge through to the skeptics and outright deniers …
The strategy? Sssh, don't mention climate change, talk about other things hinting of climate change, and hope for the best with the new lexicon …
As if this had the remotest chance with the likes of Dame Groan - nobly, she doesn't really like to use air conditioning - or the dog botherer …
Now this was an epic effort by the dog botherer, in which the entire science might be flung into doubt thanks to a single statistic …
A hotly contested climate debate?
Not in the world of science, where the science is in … but in the dog botherer's fevered mind, tilting at windmills, the brave lad has all the ammunition he needs. You see, it was hot in the past too, and there's your answer … say no more, nudge nudge, an argument about a single statistic is as good as a wink to a blind man ...
And there you have it. A new lexicon? Not when the dog botherer is on the job, and the 357k woman, Dame Groan is moaning about renewables, and the talk is of clean dinkum Oz coal, oi, oi …
And what do you know, there she is, with obligatory smokestacks, at the top of the front page for the digital edition …
Yes, in the time the pond was writing, Dame Groan had been promoted to top of the page ma, top of the page …
But the pond was still writhing and reeling over the deepest shame of all … the way that the pond had cut Moorice dead in the reptile promenade yesterday, and yet Moorice was on fire in his usual way …
Yes, Moorice had been doing field research, vital for one of the world's top climate scientists …
Poor 'some'. It must be their first time at the pond … because naturally Moorice was still going the full Donald …
Moorice's outburst reminded the pond of a short recent lizard Oz editorial …
There weren't many comments - who cares what the reptile editorialist thinks? - but it did produce one snap back ...
Oh dear, but it did set the scene for more ongoing alarmism by Moorice, and never mind that there is much contrary evidence designed to suggest that perhaps he should have got a bit closer to the wall than Hawaii …
...while 90 percent of the heroin sold in the United States comes from Mexico, virtually all of it comes through legal points of entry. “A small percentage of all heroin seized by CBP along the land border was between Ports of Entry (POEs),” the Drug Enforcement Administration said in a 2018 report. So Trump’s wall would do little to halt drug trafficking. Trump’s repeated claim that the wall would stop drug trafficking is another Bottomless Pinocchio claim. (WaPo here)
Never mind, on with the Bottomless Wooden-nosed Moorice ...
It seems strange for Moorice to cultivate a fear of Hispanics, while the Donald is boasting how the Hispanics love him bigly, but that's just the way it goes in bizarro land … because in that land, the Donald is a major humanitarian ...
Yep, Moorice is still all in for Donald 2020 … and no doubt will be all in for the onion muncher in 2019, as the sirens roam the warming seas singing distracting songs …
Ah the infallible Pope has returned to his
chapel of joy, and all is well in the world …but thinking of the onion muncher inevitably reminded the pond that it had also missed out on the Caterist …
Now it's true that revisiting the Caterist is just the same as a seagull checking out particularly soggy chips …but as the pond noted yesterday he was granted cult Lobbecke status, and so attention should have been paid, and the pond was mortified and guilty, at least until it could remedy its wrong, and make right … barking mad right if you will...
Actually there's not a jot or whit of difference between the Caterist whining and moaning, and the 357k woman Dame Groaning away today …
But it does provide a chance for the pond to apologise for that seagull metaphor … you see it was a
New Yorker cartoon wot done it your honour, with more
here …
Anything to help the pond get through another burst of dinkum clean Oz coal, oi, oi, oi ...
Any worries for the planet? Nope, all is well in climate denialist Caterist world - and he can certainly help you with flood water movement in quarries too … all thanks to the Australian taxpayer …
Hmm, a new year, must be new grant application time, with bonus climate science denialism and yet another plea for dinkum clean Oz coal …
Of course the Caterist too has got the fear … comrade Bill is giving him the willies, and it's possible he might still be in a state of wild-eyed panic this morning as he opened his fish and chip wrappings to learn of the poll and the reptiles quivering with barely suppressed hope and joy ...
… which strangely brought the pond back to that story in Politico …
Educating the public and policymakers about climate change at a time when elected leaders and scribblers for the lizard Oz are doubling down on denying that it is happening at all or that humans are responsible for it demands a new lexicon, conference attendees told me—one that can effectively narrate the overwhelming scientific evidence but not get sucked into the controversy fueled most prominently by President Donald Trump, the Caterist, Dame Groan, Moorice, the dog botherer and assorted other reptiles, not to mention the onion muncher.
The hope is to persuade the small but powerful minority that stands in the way of new policies to mitigate climate change’s worst long-term effects—as well as the people who vote for them—that something needs to be done or their own livelihoods and health will be at stake.
The new language taking root is meant to instill this sense of urgency about what is happening in ways to which everyday citizens can relate—without directly blaming it on human activity: The spring blossoms keep coming earlier; seasonal allergies are worsening and lasting longer; extreme heat is upending the kids’ summer camp schedule; crops are drying up or washing away at alarming rates.
In your fuzzy, warm-hearted new lexicon, politically defanged rhetorical dreams, climate scientists …
While there seems to have been a few gremlins and add-ons in the pond's transcription of that Politico story, the point is that down under the Caterists are trapped somewhere in Dunkirk, and no doubt hoping to be saved by Russian forces storming down from the north to take Berlin …
Forget the DeLorean … we're well back to the future, and the likes of the Caterists and the dog botherer and Dame Groan will carry their delusions to the grave, and all that's left is a Rowe cartoon celebrating the smoke stacks, with more Rowe
here …
And here's a couple of Adams, just for fun …