Thursday, December 20, 2007

Goofy Beyond Belief

As chief scientist in Britain, Sir David King demonstrates the importance of his position through his gravitas in pronouncing on a "culture" which has obviously been of grave distaste to him. His august person has pronounced on the need for a "culture change". Culture being subservient, needless to say, to the environmental mess we find ourselves in today on this planet.

Oh, not that kind of culture - the culture of Eve subverting Adam, encouraging that poor helpless male to strut his stuff, gun his engines in a lavish display of haste and waste - in the hopes of enrapturing females whom the sight of a high-powered and dreadfully expensive vehicle signals nature's assurance that the muscular display of metal and rubber represents suitable mating-material.

Governments, Sir King has proclaimed, can by themselves do only so much to attempt to correct humankind's misadventure in imperilling our atmosphere by our reckless, nature-abusive behaviour. And women, he points out sniffily, must, really must, cease and desist in their shameful ogling of men who drive sports cars - most particularly those in the rarefied category of Ferraris. We women should know better; heaven knows men don't.

This verbal finger-wagging of a disgruntled, curmudgeonly elder holding an elite scientific position resorting to telling it as it is should really stop us in our tracks.

There - we've stopped. The world is dissolving toward perdition in one hell of a gargantuan hand-basket of carbon emissions and it's all our fault. Pandora's fault, without doubt. And Eve, her too. They have conditioned us to behave in this shameful manner; each having exhibited the unmitigated gall to unleash upon an unready world their wiles, turning men's heads and obligating them to satisfy our whims.

Mostly through unbridled material acquisition. Which comes with a very heavy cost beyond the monetary. That being, perhaps, Sir King's message?

And it's all our fault. We knew it, we just weren't aware that men knew it. But there it is, they do now thanks to Sir King's peevishly trite accusation. We thought we could keep our ungovernable desires' responsibility for corrupting our well-feathered world under wraps, but it was obviously not to be.

Those women who express alarm over the state of our environment, who pledge to lobby government and the public at large to do our part in tamping down our excesses are sly creatures to be sure. Their agenda has been revealed. It's men driving Ferraris they're enraptured with, not their selfless passion to tilt at windmills.

Sir King's admonition to women to cease and desist equating expensive gas-guzzling mounts with knights-in-shining-armour in favour of losers who deign to live environmentally friendly on the road through the use of more modest steeds so goes against our collective grain. And yet his trifling observations and denunciations must reveal some hidden truth. That women submit to fantasy over reality?

That the female gender will remain forever flawed, incapable of any measure of intellectual thought and responsibility, irremediably wedded to the lure of "hot" and "sexy", loathe to embrace common sense and practicality. There, we've said it. A sad reality.

Sigh. We're just such helplessly romantic creatures.

Or might the hidden truth reveal something completely other? That the estimable chief scientist of Great Britain has gone bonkers, lapsed into early senility...? Good thing then, that he's on the cusp of retiring.

The dire issue of global warming and governments' responses to it surely requires a deeper understanding of science itself - environmental, atmospheric science, and with a view to a fuller understanding of exactly how humankind need go about in our attempts to mitigate the inevitable.

One wonders, does Sir King also frequent fortune tellers? Is there an unfortunate personal event he has dredged up from his distant memory of some flighty young thing forsaking his serious attentions for that of an Ferrari-driving cavalier?

Is it truly loony-tunes time for this most unfortunate man?

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