The Climate Corral

“This Wacky Weather”
by Danger Slater

Dear Fellow Scientists,

Greetings from SkyFortress3000!

I wish I were writing to you today on more cordial terms. Since my banishment from the League of Extraordinary Pancakes [the world’s preeminent scientific/pancake collective] our relationship has been a bit..well…stressed. In case you were wondering, the answer is yes, I recieved your death threats. I have edited them for grammatical errors and have sent them back to you. If you require any more proofreading in the future, my office hours are 9am-1pm, Monday-Friday.

I realize you all consider me a “loose cannon” of sorts. You claim my techniques are reckless. Unnecessary. Amoral, even. Listen, just because a guy clones a few dozen Sexy Hitlers’ and then declares his floating island-fortress its own private country, all of a sudden, I’m the one who’s being unreasonable. Let me tell you something – if my Sexy Hitlers’ had succeeded in their Final Solution, we’d all be wearing a lot less pants right now.

But I’m not bitter.

So I compose this letter not to publicly proclaim my hatred for you all – a hatred that is both all-encompassing and eternal – but rather, to extend an olive branch. A peace offering. My Fellow Scientists, I need your help!

I’m sure by now you’ve noticed the recent surge of bizarre weather-related phenomena we’ve been experiencing. It’s hard not to. The sky is in revolt and the weather is something that affects us all. It has the power to ameliorate or destroy. Revive and ravage. The weather is the ultimate unifier, pulling every living being under its big, blue blanket. So before you rip this letter up and use it as toilet paper or campfire kindling or tickertape for your sactimonious robot-orgy parades, please know, all I’m asking from you is to listen for a moment with an open mind and heed the warning I am about to relay. I’m speaking, of course, about global warming:

What is causing it and what are its implications?

* * *

I, like most of the scientific community, used to scoff at the idea of climate change. But all that changed a few months ago when it started raining amputated limbs outside of my Los Angeles body dysmorphia clinic:

At the time, body dysmorphia was all the rage in Hollywood after Jennifer Aniston, Matthew McConaughey, and their entire viewing audience had their brains removed before the premiere of their latest romantic-comedy crapfest Someone Else’s Finger. As it was reported in Us Weekly, proponents such as Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and Sir Ben Kingsly could all attest – amputation is the fastest way to shed those extra pounds – and keep them off! Every trophy wife in Beverly Hills was rushing out to have their legs cut off or their hunchbacks removed. And I was making bank!

Then one typical level-5-smog-alert-self-righteous-liberalism-tiny-dogs-in-purses afternoon the sausage-like clouds above us started to gather. The sky grew meaty and sinister. Thunder clapped. And suddenly fingers, toes, arms, legs and torsos were falling from the heavens in a torrential downpour. The terrified screams of pedestrians echoed across Rodeo Drive as a meteorite comprised of condensed guts – appendixes, pancreata, and other assorted viscera – smashed into my solid gold Rolls Royce, evaporating it in a mushroom cloud of gore. The L.A. River overflowed with sweet and sour slime, washing away hobos and shantymen alike on its apocalyptic journey to the sea.

The corpse-shower shocked the newsmedia, causing Local 12’s weatherman Chip Branson to nearly mess up his hair. Luckily, his helmet of hairspray and perfectly straight teeth repelled the cascading refuse with tact and aplomb. Afterwards, he straightened his tie, looked directly into the camera, screamed, “IT’S THE END OF THE FUCKING WORLD!” and then blew his brains out on live TV. The local Emmy was awarded to him posthumously.

Meanwhile, on the streets, in the thick of it all, knee deep in the mucous and severed limbs and bile stood I, watching the sun turn the color of blood. The ground shook as a very, very, very, very centralized earthquake nosed its way through Tectonic plates and rocked the lowest part of my lower intestine. Before I knew it, I – one of the greatest minds the world has ever known – was uncontrollably pooping in his pants!

Patients leaving the clinic were both confused and anxious. Were the body parts they had just removed enacting their swift yet austere revenge? And was I, their favorite doctor – one whom they had lauded and hailed as their makeshift Messiah; a title I humbly accepted because, in fact, I most definitely deserved it – suffering from a case of Fatal Diaper Failure? The shock of it all was too much for them to handle. One by one, they orderly took their own lives. I could only watch in horror as my friends, relatives, and lovers perished by their own [lack-of] hands.

* * *

[Personal note: I realize that performing elective disfiguring surgery on the rich and famous is not the noblest line of work a man of my stature could persue. Some even say it violates the Hippocratic oath that I, as a doctor, have sworn to uphold. But it takes a fuck-ton of money to keep SkyFortress3000 running efficiently. So judge me not, fair members of the Leauge. I’m just trying to make this world a more beautiful place, one severed organ at a time.]

* * *

I realized then that something was wrong. This type of extreme weather is usually reserved for the Armageddon. Never in the summer. And never in L.A. But the debacle at the B.D.C. was to be merely the tip of an ever-melting iceberg:

Reports of midnight sun, fire snow, reverse tornadoes, and banana tsunamis are pouring in faster than the election committee of Miami-Dade county can count the ballots. After a month of recounts, bake-offs and a few “lazy Sundays,” in an unprecedented act of nepotism and political bias, George W. Bush was declared the Supercell Supreme of the United States of America and Hell froze over. While many Democrats merely cried, a few began spontaneously lactating bees, prompting some Republicans to declare America as the new land of Milk and Honey.

As the Supercell destroyed cityscapes and countrysides alike [most notably, New Orleans. The mishandling of the situation by FEMA and ineptitude of the federal government had UNICEF up in arms and forced certain narcissistic rappers to proclaim “Cyclones don’t care about black people!”] the social-economic infrastructure crumbled around us. The country slumped into a Depression. Obesity rates rose. Incidents of violent crime increased. And somehow I misplaced my car keys. Again!

All of this commenced in the winter of 2008 with the election of Barack Obama into office, promising to give us the “Change We Need.” The disenfranchised were hopeful. Finally a candidate who’s rhetoric didn’t seem like a complete natural disaster. But alas, on Inauguration Day, just seconds after being sworn into office, President Obama “changed” into a Katabatic wind which blew any chance of healthcare reform right out the window. Millions of people are still living in poverty and receiving improper medical care, ushering in a new era that many backalley abortionist are calling:

The Golden Age of Organ Theft.

Indeed, prices for black market organs have inflated, and nearly everyone is feeling the crunch. But until the auto industry can develop a proper electric car, the cost for a gallon of blood will continue to rise.

* * *

The economic devastation is just one of the many facets that global warming will affect.

The planet’s average temperature has climbed 1.4 degrees F since 1880.

While adversaries of global warming claim this statistic is bogus [as it was reported in the confidential intraoffice memo between Cargo shorts lobbies, entitled: The Future of Cargo Shorts: The Fallacy of Global Warming and How Exploiting the Lie is Going to Make Us All Very, Very Rich. Perhaps We’ll Even Get a Blow-Job From That Girl at the Starbucks. Did You See the Tattoo of a Cheshire Cat She Has on Her Forearm? So Cute. I Bet She’s a Tiger in the Sack. Me-ow! HaHaHa.]

But the Cargo shorts conspiracy is literally full of holes. Seriously, I put my cell phone in my pocket and it must have fallen out somewhere. It had all my contacts in it and everything. So annoying. By the way, I need your number. I know we don’t talk much, but just in case, you know?

The fact is, the increased sale of Cargo shorts is just a symptom of a much larger problem. All fashion trends aside, complete ecosystems are at stake. The Nuclear Reactor Coral Reefs are rapidly disappearing. Roman Emperor Penguins are being fed to the lions. Bi-Polar Bears have fallen into a funk. And Serial Killer whales have grown lethargic, no longer stalking and hunting the vulnerable young women on which they used to prey. The increased volume of vulnerable, young women has put an unnatural strain on their local environment as the demand for new-age self-help books and vampire novellas have risen exponentially, causing the continued deforestation of Amazon.com.

* * *

I realize the sheer volume of this information is daunting to you. To put it all in perspective, I have compiled a list of facts and myths about global warming which may prove helpful as you disseminate this material:

MYTH: Global warming is responsible for stealing my newspapers every morning.
FACT: It is your redneck neighbor that is stealing your papers.

MYTH: Global warming does not exist.
FACT: Global warming is very real. More real than you, even, as you, I suspect, are a hallucination brought on by a sentient supercomputer [see archived footage: sect. IIX, file 426: The Matrix.]

MYTH: Global warming will not affect me in my lifetime.
FACT: Global warming will affect you in your lifetime because it is happening. It’s happening RIGHT NOW! Oh wait, it just stopped. Okay, it’s happening again. Now it seems to be slowing down a bit. And…it stopped again. Hold on…oh, no it didn’t. My mistake. It just kind of looked like it did for a sec, but yeah, it’s still going on like it was before. Wait…okay, now it’s stopped. For real, this time.
Crap, it started again.

MYTH: Last night, global warming and Bigfoot thew eggs at my house and then toilet papered my tree. WTF?
FACT: While global warming and Bigfoot did both egg and toilet paper your house last night, they both did it of their own volition. The fact that it happened on the same date is coincidence. While global warming was only looking for some cheap thrills, Bigfoot’s agenda is still unknown.

MYTH: History shows us the planet goes through natural heating and cooling cycles. How do we know that global warming is the result of our anthropogenic influence?
FACT: While what you say is true, the rate at which our atmosphere is warming far exceeds the rate at which it happens historically. Natural climate change can take several thousand years. What we’re experiencing has only taken decades. Plus, what do you know about history, anyway? You barely graduated county college. Remember that class we shared? I saw you doodling in your notebook, like, the whole time. Don’t even try and tell me you were listening. Oh, that’s how you learn? By drawing a unicorn fighting a helicopter? Yeah, right. Listen, kid, your good looks and charm may have gotten you by in the past, but you’re in the big leagues now. What’s that? You’re only in college because your parents are making you go? Ya, real good reason to pursue an education. What are you studying anyway? Environmental science?!? Oh Jesus!

MYTH: Global warming is having an affair with my wife.
FACT: Again, the redneck neighbor.

* * *

The research facilities in SkyFortress3000 are vast. When the Sexy Hitlers are not busy committing genocide against their own bodies [an act they call “making love”,] they are fastidiously at work, compiling data. Attached to this letter will be a spreadsheet, graphing their findings. Be advised, the sheet will only spread after a lobster dinner, a couple of glasses of wine, and some coy yet flirtatious remarks. WARNING: DO NOT PRESSURE THE SPREADSHEET. It’s been hurt before and it may take a while for it to trust you.

As the planet’s best and brightest, we have an obligation to ensure that future generations will be allowed to prosper. The world our children are to inherit is a dangerous one. Our pursuit of technology and convenience has poisoned the globe, almost irrevocably. Putting aside all the petty differences and tenuous pancake breakfast’s that we’ve shared, I am calling on you, my fellow scientists, to help me in reversing the folly of our selfish ways.

I have at my disposal an unlimited supply gorgonzola cheese, an as-yet untested DeathRay, and a paper sack full of illegal fireworks smuggled in from the next state over. I am willing to donate these resources towards whatever plan of action that we, together, can come up with concerning this impending plight. Please get back to me as soon as possible. The Sexy Hitlers’ are waiting by the phones. Call in the next 20 minutes and receive a second complimentary Snuggie – The Blanket That Has Sleeves
®.

Thank you for your time.
Hugs and Kisses,
Dr. D. Slater, Carnival Barker and Mad Scientist

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