Phthlunchtime!

The cafeteria at the U.S. House of Representatives has reverted from sustainable, compostable food packaging to plastic and styrofoam now that the Republicans are in charge. Apparently, they consider it their patriotic duty to befoul our earthscape by using a new plastic fork for each bite of irradiated endangered species they eat.

Democrats are calling foul. And now, they've issued a warning to John Boehner that the phthalates and other components in the new packaging could cause cancer.

Now, first of all, have these people ever seen John Boehner? He is a carcinogen unto himself. I don't think the letter is going to resonate.

Secondly, am I the only one who sees the benefit here? Obviously, all house Democrats will be bringing their own cloth napkins and stainless lunch tiffins when they eat at the cafeteria, if indeed they deign to eat at an establishment where quinoa is not on the menu. And, if they're smart, they'll pack along enough reusable bamboo lunchware for any constituents who join them. So, who's left to eat off the pthalate-ridden utensils? Anyone? The REPUBLICANS.

Nancy Pelosi had this planned all along: The Republican House is going to eat its way out of a majority. Genius. And then she can swoop in and reinstate reusable, sustainable, organic, locavore, farm-to-table practices. If she can find her way past the overflowing, CFC-bloated cafeteria garbage cans, that is.

Handmade's Rail

There's a movement afoot that encourages us to buy handmade items whenever possible. The thinking is, I believe, that factory-made merchandise wreaks havoc on our delicate globorb. Most of it comes from carbon-belching Chinese melamine farms, then of course it has to make its way to your local Walmart via the Galapagos and Madagascar, where the ships stop to disgorge their ballast of nuclear waste and Tang.

But I think the handmade movement is disgusting. It greenwashes the act of purchasing. It makes you people feel good about hopping in your Prii and spewing carbon all the way to some charming farmer's market. Well, before you unbox that handcrafted toilet paper tote from the Crubber's Notch Co-op Fair, know this: Anyone who opens up their wallet and actually buys something is personally responsible for global warming.

So now that you agree with me, let's take a look at what you people buy and whether you really need it:

Coffee
Don't need it. Adds to methane production, gives you energy so you can run around exhaling CO2 all day. Nope.

Gas
Don't even get me started. Like you couldn't walk slowly to wherever you're going.

Groceries
Groceries come from all over the world. They come in unnecessary packages. They increase your methane production. You typically drive to get them. Meanwhile, edible items surround you: Dandelions; Tree bark; Garbage. Nutrition is everywhere if you stop to look for it.

Gifts
Are you kidding? Our world is melting; you feel like celebrating something? Shame on you.

Shelter
Puh-lease. Do you know how much my treetop bionest cost me? Exactly two dollars and a night with a contractor. That's the bartering system at work, my friend.

The only good hand-making is when you do it yourself. So put that now-obsolete wallet to good use as a new pair of shoes. Or lunch.

Don't Laugh

There is nothing funny about environmentalism.

Global warming is a serious problem, and anyone who finds humor in the up-therming of Mother Earth is a discredit to all her bioinhabitants. Only the truly enviro-impaired could possibly laugh at the survival of our fragile ecosphere.

You people make me sick. And by “sick” I mean “temporarily unable to enjoy the intoxicating scent of patchouli mixed with my own body odor.”

You live in your houses with your heat and your lights and you don’t care about the energy they use. You wear your leather shoes and your cotton shirts, and you don’t give a thought to the living plants and animals wrested from fulfilling, happy lives for your convenience. You ride your bikes to work and don’t feel an ounce of guilt about the plastic in your helmets or the extra carbon you’re emitting as you huff and puff up that hill.

I walk to work from my treetop BioNest. Slowly.

My work is being carbon-negative: Making sure I have a negative carbon footprint on the enviroworld. And I feel I am successful; my friends tell me I make a negative impact every day.

Which is why I don’t have a “job.” I know what jobs do to our delicate globorb. They’re anathema to those of us who really value our enviroball. Productivity uses valuable bioresources that we can’t afford to waste. Like paper. Or calories. Think long and hard before you eat that marinated tempeh or that tasty quinoa patty. Because, once you take the selfish step of eating, the biomatter you ingest can no longer be used to heat the local food co-op or light Gladropes, the fair-trade hemp crafts store down the street. And once you’ve eaten, don’t forget to ponder the other impact of your bioneeds on our ecoglobe. I live daily with the guilt of knowing I’m a small-scale methane plant; you should, too.

That’s why I can’t laugh at environmentalism. It’s not funny. And laughter releases way too much carbon.

Citizen Skein

A lot has been written recently about eating "locally." It’s an interesting concept; eating food that doesn’t have to travel too far, thereby saving energy. But once again, the Man has set himself up to feel good about something that actually harms our fragile globorb.
These “locavores” eat foods from within 100 miles of where they live, as if a truck driving 100 miles doesn’t spew tons of carbon into our atmosphere.

I’m a skeinavore. I only eat foods from within 100 yards.

Now, let's make one thing clear: I would rather not eat at all. Every time I do, I feel immense guilt about the methane I produce. Did you know that the average person produces 2 liters of gas a day? The shame of it keeps me up at night.

But even a carbon-negative person like me has to take in calories. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here to point out and counteract all the wasteful, thoughtless things you people do.

Since I am forced to ingest biomatter, I’ve developed some easy-to-follow eating guidelines with our habitorb in mind. A Carbon-Negative Diet, if you will. So for those eager to learn the secret to staying thin and green, here, in a nutshell, is my diet:

Things that come from my immediate vicinity.

Things that don’t have a face.

Things that died a natural death after a long, happy life.

Things that I find.

Things that don't produce methane. The following list of gas-generators is completely forbidden:

Asparagus
Broccoli
Brussels sprouts
Cabbage
Cauliflower
Corn
Cucumbers
Kohlrabi
Leeks
Onions
Peas
Peppers
Radishes
Sauerkraut
Turnips
Carbonated drinks
Beer
Red wine
Sugars
Sugar substitutes
Apples
Beans
Dairy products
Eggs
Wheat
Melons
Apricots
Prunes
Olestra

This leaves, basically, hemp, soy, some ancient grains, and Chicken McNuggets®, but only if they fall to the ground in front of me.

If every American followed my simple plan, obesity would be a thing of the past. We could curtail our methane production, shut down the cattle industry (indeed, all farming as we know it), and save billions in fuel and plus-size clothing. But of course you won’t. You’ll keep driving your Prii to Whole Foods and eating your earth-destroying groceries. Fine; more spelt for me.

Carbon-negative like me

Carbon-Negative Like Me

Lately everyone who isn’t Republican has been yammering on about “Carbon Neutrality,” as if that’s a goal we should all be striving for. Puh-leez. Carbon neutrality will do nothing to save our delicate ecoglobe.

I take this problem more seriously than everyone else. I believe I mentioned in my last column (and if you’d been reading carefully I wouldn’t have to repeat myself, which takes carbon) that I am carbon-negative. Well I am. And I’ll bet you’re not.

You’re sitting there at your computer and I’ll bet your power-save settings are not optimized. If they were, you wouldn’t be able to see this post because your screen would be black. And you call yourself an environmentalist. My screen is black. In fact, since I don’t use electricity for something as frivolous as light, I’m sitting here in the pitch dark, so it’s a good thing I am an expwrt typlst.

A lot of so-called environmentalists talk about getting “off the grid.” This is misguided at best. If I was off the grid, I couldn’t be carbon-negative, and the power company would never know how hard I am working. My photovoltaic cells and 50-foot wind turbine cause my electric meter’s dials to fly backwards. This also saves paper, as I don’t have to send any more self-congratulatory letters to the power company.

Though none of you so-called earth-lovers ever talk about it, personal outlook has a very real impact on carbon expenditure. I’ve done extensive ecovibe research, and have concluded that only mild unhappiness is carbon-negative. That’s why my mood ring is consistently black, and why I strive to maintain a state between melancholy and fully disgruntled.

So the next time you surf to the Terra Pass site to buy carbon offsets in a weak attempt at saving our habitorb, don’t be so happy about it, unless you plan to offset your happiness, too. Because joy and its thoughtless expression blows carbon like a Shanghai tour bus.

Smarties? No, Flakes.

Earth-haters everywhere are calling foul after hackers exposed hundreds of emails between British climate scientists, including references to "tricks" and "hiding the decline" of global temperatures. The world-wasters are saying man's effect on global warming has clearly been overstated by climatologists. Well, before you celebrate the fact that your impending deaths are due to natural causes, just sit tight in your roomy Dockers for a minute while we consider the source: British scientists.

British. Scientists. Come on, am I the only one who's noticed that Britain turns out buck-toothed Latin experts and deviant MPs by the lorry-load, and yes, it's Got Talent, but isn't exactly at the cutting edge of scientific research? Any country that refers to it as "maths" can't be all that serious about it.

So now leach-miners everywhere are claiming victory because of emails that some bedwetting English "scientist" banged off to his chum as he enjoyed a cuppa and a Hobnob.

I, too, am as incensed as I can be without expending carbon, not because I feel duped but because these so-called scientists had a real opportunity to scare the bejeesus out of everyone but me. One well placed, "Tut tut, do wish the numbers were more promising. Looks like we'll all snuff it soon!" could have given Al Gore a run for his money.

And the Photoshopped image of naysayers on an iceberg, found in one email? Downright hopeful. As if there are any icebergs left. Someone needs to teach these Pollyannas how to maximize abject terror. Perhaps Dick Cheney's not busy.

(from 2007) Oscars wrap-up

Allow me to begin by saying that the Oscars are a bloated display of lopsided wealth and navel gazing. But I love fashion. There’s nothing that makes me feel as good as donning a well-cut hemp pinafore over a clean, crisp unbleached organic cotton tee, my long kitty-cat earrings just brushing the tops of my shoulders. Which is why I read with interest the Oscar red carpet round-up Monday in someone else’s copy of the local paper. Once that person threw the paper down and ran away, I could really delve into the sartorial splendor that is Hollywood’s biggest event.

And I was not disappointed. Well, I was disappointed in the sheer waste of silk. And the fabrics that were obviously chemically processed. But I was not disappointed in the wealth of things to shake my head at. And believe me, I shook my head long and hard (not too hard; that’s a carbon suck) when I learned that ‘An Inconvenient Truth’ won an Academy Award® for best documentary.

That movie puts me off my tempeh, with its hopeful ending and upbeat can-do message. I haven’t seen it, but I know enough about it to condemn it outright. It’s a salve for people who want to believe they can alter the history of our ecosphere by driving a Prius and reusing paper bags. They can’t. Their mere existence all but guarantees the doom of carbon-negative earth lovers like myself.

Here we are, drowning our glorious eco-orb with globo-refuse, and Al Gore’s mincing around about how we might all get our feet a little wet if we don’t consider driving smaller cars and turning off the occasional light. He had a real opportunity to frighten the living crap out of everyone in the Western World, and he let it go. What a wuss. Give me an Orson Welles, who didn’t bat an eye when the American public wet its collective pants at his War of the Worlds broadcast.

Even the title leaves untapped fear and misery on the table. ‘An Inconvenient Truth,’ indeed. How about ‘We’re All Going to Die And It’s Your Fault (I’m Talking To You, China)’? Imagine that coming out of Jerry Seinfeld’s mouth as he read the list of nominees.

But no, Al Gore chose to add to the atmosphere of waste at this year’s Oscars. Wasted resources, wasted fabric, wasted opportunities for worldwide guilt and abject fear. But I have to admit I liked Reese Witherspoon’s dress.