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.