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As has become our custom in recent years, the Family Robbo will be heading to my brother’s house in North Carolina for the holiday festivities, there to eat, drink, gossip, drink, argue, drink, watch football and drink, the feast hopefully being capped off with the arrangement for the gels to have a sleepover with their cousins while Mrs. Robbo and I sneak back to the hotel on our own for the night.  (Lest you think we’re unfairly taking advantage, I should note that we reciprocate when Brother & Family come up for Easter.) 

I will confess that although I am very fond of Thanksgiving as a holiday, I take no especial pleasure in the traditional menu.  It’s not that I dislike  turkey dinner (except, of course, for the green beans), but I certainly don’t put it in the same class of culinary delight as the Christmas roast or the Easter lamb.  In fact, the part of the turkey dinner I’ve actually enjoyed most has always been the leftover sammiches and the turkey soup that the Mothe used to make.   

Ah, well.  It’s not a big point.

Anyhoo, in case I don’t sneak in another post before we head off, a bumper to all of you, my fellow port-swillers!  Your thoughts and ideas and humor and kindness are definitely among those things for which I am truly thankful.

Look up in the sky!

Is it a carbon credit?

Is it a locally-grown, certified organic and cruelty-free tomato?

No! It’s Matt Labash as Low Impact Man!

I don’t want to brag [……] but we did it! We No Impacters went zero-carbon for a week! We erased our carbon footprint! Well, we didn’t erase it exactly. It’s impossible to leave no footprints. I mean human exhalation leaves 1 kg of carbon dioxide a day, which traps heat in the atmosphere, which warms the polar ice caps, which drowns polar bears, which makes Al Gore weep. So we can’t be no impact strictly speaking, unless we hold our breath until the Climate Bill passes and President Obama goes to the United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen in December and invents green jobs and finds green solutions to intractable problems like human breathing. So let’s just say I went Low Impact. If my Low Impact week was an aerobics class, it’d be the kind where I jog in place on a mini-trampoline while wearing a decorative headband.

Read the whole thing, which is an hysterical tribute to the absurdity of the self-loathing Gaia-worship that is the modern environmentalist movement.

(BTW, I haven’t had anything to say about this week’s news of climate-change scientists manipulating data, but I’m hoping that perhaps that and other signs indicate the Greenies are about to jump the shark.)


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November 2009