'How Much Time Do We Still Have Left?'

When it comes to exposing the hypocrisy of Leftists, it usually isn't very challenging. The Left has a way of saying how important a particular issue is, but when you press them on exactly how important it is to them, you discover very quickly that they do not walk the walk.

This is one of the great conundrums when it comes to policy that tries to govern individual behavior. It makes it very easy to uncover hypocrisy. The whole point of limited government is that by not making too many rules, it allows people to live as freely as possible.

If there aren't too many specific rules that have been dictated to the masses, and by which they must live, then hypocrisy becomes a much more difficult thing to prove.

When it comes to climate change, although I still prefer the term “global warming” so that the left doesn't get to reframe the argument, it becomes very easy to smoke out hypocrites.

We want it NOW!

The overarching argument that comes from climate change activists is that if we don't immediately start doing something to reduce carbon emissions, the human race and the planet are doomed. There's nothing better than a good ol’ apocalyptic prophecy to catch someone in his own hypocrisy. Usually when the claim about the impending climate apocalypse is raised, the next obvious question to ask a climate change activist is, "how much time do we have left?”

Almost every single climate change activist will say that we are all likely to die, along with our children, in the next 50 to 60 years. What this does is set them up as true believers and doomsayers. It places them in a position of such urgency that they have now backed themselves into an impossible position to defend.

Once this proclamation is made, it becomes very easy to insist that, if literally everyone is going to die in the next generation, that the activists themselves must do everything in their power to prevent this catastrophe from happening.

Since they are talking about the literal end of the world, you can then ask why they haven't quit their job, are engaging in any activity whatsoever that produces even a dollop of greenhouse gas, and aren't spending every waking moment of their lives doing something proactive to forestall a certain apocalypse.

In fact, they shouldn't even have anything other than a waking life, because going to sleep means wasting viable time to stave off the cataclysm.

This is usually where they completely fumble and stumble and say that they can only do their part. Right there, they've destroyed their own argument that the apocalypse is right around the corner and the hoofbeats of the four horsemen can be heard in the distance.

Here they come!

Apparently, doing their part doesn't include living and acting with the urgency that one might expect with the associated prophecy. But no matter! You can then move onto the next point, asking them exactly what it is that they do to reduce their carbon footprint.

Almost always, they'll confess that they recycle cans and bottles and drive a Prius. Of course, you should have a little fun with this. You should hammer them on not doing all of the things they lecture other people about what they should be doing to save the planet.

For example, one should not use petroleum products, ever. This includes purchasing anything made of fossil fuels, such as plastic.  It means that they are growing their own food, right? After all, any purchase of any food anywhere is a confession that they are creating additional demand for transportation and delivery of foodstuffs via vehicles that use fossil fuels.

You can really nail them with questions about producing their own energy. Remember, using any kind of energy that is derived from fossil fuels should be verboten. You may suddenly see a smug smile across their faces they announced that they have solar panels on their home.

You can effortlessly destroy this smile by reminding them that the creation of solar panels requires an enormous expense of fossil fuel energy. That includes the excavation of silicon to make the panels themselves. That means that diesel-powered excavators are hard at work pulling rock out of the ground. It also means an extraordinarily high amount of energy is necessary to melt the silicon, so that it can be manufactured into the solar wafers.

That's when you can lecture them on the actor Ed Begley, Jr.  Anyone who is even remotely concerned about climate change can, in fact, look to this fine actor as being an example of someone truly doing all he can.  He actually does engage in all the activities one could reasonably think of in order to reduce carbon footprint. This includes bicycling on a special rig in his home that allows him to produce his own energy.

Take the Metro!

Frankly, his efforts are to be applauded. He is the shining example of someone who truly believes in the cause. Ask a climate change activist, however, to do all the things that Begley does and they'll find all kinds of excuses as to why they cannot. This, again, seems very odd considering the entire human race is hanging by a thread.

This is the entire problem with the climate-change activists. They are more likely to catch flies with honey, so to speak. In truth, what we all should do is what we can reasonably do in order to be good stewards of the earth. Sometimes that is just recycling cans and bottles.

The point is that the issue is a matter of personal choice.  Climate-change activists should be able to calmly and reasonably offer common sense and simple solutions and activities that we all could engage in.  Then they would likely find a lot more support.

The wonderful thing about that approach is that it makes the science irrelevant. There doesn't need to be an argument over the science. It doesn't matter what the science claims.  It simply places the power of individual choice front and center. It makes the issue one of persuasion, as opposed to browbeating. It removes virtue-signaling from the equation.

Leftists always seem to place life-or-death stakes on every issue. Ultimately, that is their fundamental mistake.  By making everything all-or-nothing, they demand some great power to force us to behave in certain ways to prevent whatever they are crying about.

Naturally, the only solution is government intervention and tyranny.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some cans and bottles to throw into my regular non-recycling trashcan.


Diary of an Acclimatised Beauty: Scarfing

I’m not really sure who Hermés is marketing to if not me. I mean not only do I buy a fair amount of new things, I’m forever bringing new life to Judith's (mummy’s) vintage pieces. Honestly, they should fête me. But instead, what I get is attitude. And with all this Covid madness I’m needing more scarves as masks, not less. And dry cleaning is taking seven times longer than it has my whole life.

Ok, maybe I can’t remember back as far as my whole life but I think you get the picture. Their website was extremely limited…nearly everything was either a jungle theme, or Maori, or African, or the Amazon, or Inuit or some civilisation that clearly doesn’t shop on Bond Street. And everything blue??? Ugh! So I popped into Harrod’s because—leave it to the shop that started by selling us tea to still know what we want today.

And I was right, everything was so much more suited to what anyone would wear but with the addition of so many stupid small sizes, I had to keep asking --is this one the real scarf size or the Barbie size? And then I had a flashback to the snipey clerk in the states who had admonished me by saying that a $2,000 Collier bracelet was “only fashion jewellery,” and I shouldn’t take so much time deciding. Clearly Hermés clerks are rather well compensated.  But no chance I’d have a similar problem here, the experience of shopping at Harrods is really... an experience.  And for a moment I didn’t miss my life in Los Angeles at all.

Seitan -- it's what's for dinner!

Soon however, I was starting to go mad by so many patterns and colours and I needed a cup of tea to set me right so I popped out, promising to return. And I meant to—really I did, but two glasses of bubbly later I still couldn’t understand why, with four dozen instruction books over the years on how to tie any scarf —we needed smaller sizes. Oh how I wished Judith were here. She’d have picked out the best of the lot and we’d be eating yummy roast beef…or  222 Vegan if I had the patience to re-explain seitan strips and cashew cream.

I pulled out my phone and googled silk’s impact on the environment… so much fresh water used…energy for air-conditioning and humidity control of the farms, hot air to dry the cocoons and, maybe even coal-fuelled factories. None of this had been depicted in any size. Maybe it was environmental responsibility that accounted for the loss of silken inches? One more search led me to Ferragamo, who was making a silk-like fibre from oranges—not even orange wood, but used oranges! This I had to see. A few paragraphs later l learned it was actually citrus by-products, so my leftover breakfast squeeze could have avoided the compost and made its way to a fabulous scarf!

Amazing what they can do with fruit these days.

I doubled back over to Bond Street, this time to Ferragamo. The whole store smelled like a delicious new leather snaffle bridle, but it was citrus I was after. Pretty much no one in the store knew what I was talking about until I thrust my phone forward showing them the WWD piece detailing “the contemporary way to construct an ethical lifestyle”, that “everything was possible with the fashion world now having joined the sustainability train”, and the “commitment to bringing sustainable practices to the fashion industry set the example for waste reduction and organic repurposing”. Surely all this hadn’t been lost on them, but apparently their commitment had ended—with one collection.

I bought the pink peony scarf and a viva slingback in bone. It was getting late and I didn’t feel like carrying too many packages so I made my way back to St John’s Wood just in time to find daddy and Judith setting up for cocktails. I had been craving an orange for some reason and settled for a Tesco orange juice with bits.

I had wanted to complain to them about my day—to tell them that Hermés had gone all indigenous on me, that the five different sizes were dizzying, and that silk itself was… hmm, better forget the sad-planet bit as I’d bought one anyway. And now that I thought about it—champagne, Harrod's, Bond Street and a large expenditure on accessories didn’t seem likely to engender much sympathy, nor would including the misleading WWD article.

“Remind me where it is that you live in California?” Father asked. He knew very well where I lived, but I decided best not to huff.

“Sherman Oaks… nearly Beverly Hills as you may recall”, I said.

“Yes, of course. Sherman Oaks, I had just been reading about fire season out there”.

“Fire… SEASON??” I asked, knowing I wasn’t up for the banter.

“Never mind that”, he said, “I was really just referring to black-out season, which seemingly always coincides with fire season”. He was gaining, just as Judith asked to see what I’d bought.

“I don’t know that it’s fair to say… always coincides", I ventured, knowing I’d landed a blow, he was forever preaching the ills of superlatives.

“Well in this case, I would say it is indeed fair, millions of acres of land burning, millions of homes without power… and both sharing the same catalyst, we can’t argue they aren’t related”, he went on.

Ah, how little he knew his own daughter. Certainly I could argue, but not when I was crashing from the sugar of the orange juice. Or the big lunch. Or both. And I knew he was correct. Failure to harvest dead trees had provided the fuel for the fires, and the money spent fighting fires was now not available to tuck the power lines underground, so yes, he was right, and yes he would make me admit this was another failed green policy so I just smiled and said:

“We can all agree the larger season is summer, yes?”

“Indeed” was his only reply.

Indeed. It was almost a victory lap.

They were heading out for a curry and invited me but I said I’d catch up on my emails and anyway the roast beef was a generous portion.

They neither toil  but they sure do spin.

I headed up to my childhood room and flopped on the bed with my laptop. Another web search brought up silk’s praises… its byproducts are integrated back into the local ecosystem, the mulberry fruits are eaten, the wood is used for timber and fuel, the foliage fed to cattle, the extra waste used as fertiliser; and Sericin—recovered from wastewater could be added to food, textiles, and pharmaceuticals.

Net-net, silk is virtually a zero-waste textile. I’d have to go back to hating cotton. And cheeky clerks.