Like so many others who are consumed by the threat of global warming, the imminent extinction of all life on the planet, a fate pursued with such fury by the oil cartels, I fear I have been a little slack, even lapsed, in my Greenitude this year. Stalwart warmist that I am, I believe all must play their part to put a stay to that dread event. Alas — this is confessional — I haven’t lived up to my own sultry beliefs.
Take Earth Hour almost a month ago.
Naturally I followed the available protocols for that precious 60 minutes. I turned the toaster down to the dim “5” setting (I like a bit of toast in the evening, usually much darker). For recreation I watched a “rerun” instead of a new TV show, thus reducing my “carbon eyeprint.” And, more seriously (lights off in the living room as per usual) I tried a new trick with the candles, lighting them, after the first one, off each other rather than, as in more abandoned years, with one match for each taper.
Now doubters may think this was a precious little effort, and maybe so. But by my calculation my regimen may have added another 20 whole seconds to the life of this Earth, before it inevitably perspires into oblivion from global warming. Holding off on the matches alone probably added 15 seconds. I had a lot of candles.
Still, I know I should have done better; maybe told the boat builders in the basement to lay down their electric tools, and turned off the second generator I use to warm the backyard pool. And, truth to tell, I still feel a little sheepish — if that’s the word here — about streaking off to New Zealand on a monstrous 767 airplane the very next morning.
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