Global warming scare tactics are more than bad politics. They’re bad theater too. We have humanity which is dirtying up the Earth with its marathon-producing CO2 and that is worthy of a Greek tragedy full of pessimism and nihilism. But rather than on a somber note it ends in outrageous comedy — a gut-wrench, belly-laughing finale about this F-Troop comprised of Western school teachers who valiantly try to save the world — with polar bears and islanders splashing about in hot, ice-free, rising sees — while, Neptune-sized, SUV-driving soccer moms with flaming hair, contemptuously blowing poisonous CO2 out of flared nostrils, flip-off the world as they back up onto sands and crap out surfboard-toting gremmies into the surf from their lifted tailgates.
What are we to make of the Hale-Boppers of Western academia? Heroes with noble motives? Climate fear-traders out to make a buck off the ignorant like ticket-sellers at the Left’s state-run lotteries? Are they potential new members of the Diviners and Dowsers Guild or union employees who work in the government climate alarmism industry? I’ll tell ‘ya what’s tragic: we’re paying these people to make up this bullcrap. Where would they be headed if not opposed? Heaven on a mule?
It is right and wholesome to have those light comedies and entertaining shows; and I shouldn’t wish to see them diminished. But none of us is always in the comedy spirit; we have our graver moods; they come to us all; the lightest of us cannot escape them. These moods have their appetites – healthy and legitimate appetites – and there ought to be some way of satisfying them. It seems to me that New York ought to have one theater devoted to tragedy. With her three millions of population, and seventy outside millions to draw upon, she can afford it, she can support it. America devotes more time, labor, money, and attention to distributing literary and musical culture among the general public than does any other nation, perhaps; yet here you find her neglecting what is possibly the most effective of all the breeders and nurses and disseminators of high literary taste and lofty emotion – the tragic stage. To leave that powerful agency out is to haul the culture-wagon with a crippled team. Nowadays, when a mood comes which only Shakespeare can set to music, what must we do? Read Shakespeare ourselves! Isn’t it pitiful? It is playing an organ solo on a jew’s-harp. ~Mark Twain