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Monday slash Tuesday slash Paris Climate Agreement slash sure, Jan.

15/12/2015

 
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I'd never usually dream of tinkling on the head of some blameless newborn public accord with my bad attitudinal wee-wees (comes out blue, smells like burning rubber), but if there's anything I've learned in my 40 plus years of sentient existence it's that vested corporate interests will sleaze their way out of public compacts in order to continue their ratchet cronyism.  They will in fact profit from the public complacency engendered by the expectation of meaningful progress.  

There, I said it.  So while the Paris thing is better than being awkwardly pegged with a rusty boot last by someone with the meth shakes, I won't be bending over in a darkened alley to celebrate any time soon.


If you really want to make a difference to climate change outcomes, you probably already know what you should be doing.  Most of it is its own reward, really.  Travel less.  Buy second hand and vintage stuff.  Enjoy the extraordinary gift of contraception.  Ditch your stinky, boring, ugly, pain in the arse money-pit car, or at least use it a lot less and invite others to share it when you do.  Plant trees.  Oppose the environmental degradation and support the regeneration projects happening in your area.  
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Let go of greed and infinite entitlement, that stuff we've been marinating in since birth- think of it as the best xmas present ever.  To yourself.  Fuck other people is a perfectly legitimate driver of social and environmental salvage.  ​

I may or may not be sitting in bed eating the white chocolate brownie someone gave me, in the face of all my own philosophical pronouncements. dietary hygiene, the revilement of grains by a crucial faction of my transhumant ancestors and the gaseous objections of my gut flora, pontificating about climate change whilst emitting methane on a scale disastrous within this particular domestic context.  Spoilt dogs may or may not have taken over one side of that bed in response to the unseasonal southerly blasting off a melting icepack in the Antarctic that is fucking with summer temperatures as part of an almost unprecedented 
el Niño.  

​
But it's the end of a fairly shitty year and the monstrously conjugal complexity of material existence can eat a bowl of dicks while we watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force.  Again.

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La vie est un mystère qu’il faut vivre, et non un problème à résoudre.  Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved, said some French random a while back, and he wasn't wrong.  

​I think I might make that my mission statement for 2016.  It'll either be that, or
 no one can defeat the quad laser.  ​Or
 I hope you can see this because I'm doing it as hard as I can.

I am already advanced beyond rules.  And manners.

*   Selected Ravings   *   Read the Book onsite.  For free.  Merry xmas   *



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