Tuesday, July 7, 2009

The Son of a Eco-Terrorist Mafioso Don

I'll probably never be able to fully describe how far left the household I grew up in was. I mean, my father actually encouraged me to smoke marijuana. That's right, encouraged me.

Sorry, short term memory loss - this blog is not about dope it's about ... about ... about ... oh yeah! no, wait. Eco-Terrorism, that's right.

This how the con works: first, you round up a bunch of good intentioned proletariats and start paving a road with their intentions by accepting donations to save mother nature. You do want to save mother nature don't you?

Then you start making a fuss by dragging your children out in front of town councils, state legislatures and the like and making them cry. (That literally happened to me - my father got me to cry in front of a town council to stop a hydroelectric project).

Then you hire a well meaning, dope smoking (hehe, dope, 'member ... dope), attorney or five to block something like tuna fishing or logging or farming. Industry has to hire their own attorneys (their side usually prefers coke over shwag, and they wear loafers instead of Birkenstocks). Once your side starts winning lawsuits, or just cost industry enough in snow and footwear, you start settling out of court to look the other way - and you're in patchouli oil, incense, and yoga lessons for another 6 months.

But it's all just a lecherous protection racket. None of it produces food for anyone, or electricity, or wood so people can build houses. It's mostly just a giant drag on the system and forces good, hard working people to make due with less and work harder so that a few hippies can feel self-righteous and get stoned.

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