Humor Therapy— Global Warming

Circa 2006

This global warming thing doesn’t sound that bad. I don’t know about you, but I get cold easily, so I welcome the heat; that’s why I moved to California—along with being able to get a yummy burrito. I lived back east for a long time, and stepping outside every winter morning was like having a frozen hamburger patty pressed to your face. My SUV has never had trouble turning over on a sunny day. Sure, global warming may cause your butt to stick to the leather seat in your vehicle, but at least you won’t be waiting around for AAA to jump-start your car.

Global warming would make tanning a lot easier. A tan makes me look good, but I get anxious and bored lying in the sun. So if global warming can cut down on the sun time required to get that George Hamilton bronze, I can live with that. Let’s face it: sometimes looking good trumps ozone depletion. Plus, would it really be a bad thing to see more women walking around in bathing suits? We could become the Sunshine Planet, like Florida is the Sunshine State, and start charging aliens from Uranus to vacation here. I’m sure the little monsters would pay a hefty fee to get a nice tan on those bald, gray heads.

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I think global warming would put everyone in a better mood. Sunshine always makes people happier. It brings back memories of school letting out for the summer. On the other hand, snow and rain piss folks off, reminding them of the heating bills they have to pay. (Which brings up another point: maybe with a few more rays we can finally get this solar energy thing to work.) With a little global warming, I’ll bet the suicide rate in Seattle would drop, and then the only problem left to deal with would be grunge music.

And what about penguins? Doesn’t anyone care about penguins? Tell me they wouldn’t be happier with a little Bahamas-type climate. Instead of huddling together and eating snow cones on some arctic iceberg, they could be playing beach volleyball and sipping rumrunners. And maybe, just maybe, if it gets warm enough, they can take off those silly tuxedos.

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Okay, the polar caps could melt and perhaps cause tidal waves that would wipe out coastal cities, but come on, these resort towns are occupied by beach bums who don’t have any jobs. Think about it: while you’re busting your butt at a mundane 9-to-5 office job, they’re waxing a surfboard and waiting for gnarly curlers and toasty breakers. While they’re smoking dope, you’re getting reamed by the boss for not collating this quarter’s financial reports. I’m telling you, there’s nothing like a big wave of reality to get people to work hard and pay their fair share of taxes.

Bring on the global warming, I say. A little toastiness means less money we have to shell out for extra clothing. (And more left over for other necessities—like that Girls Gone Wild anthology.) We may sweat a little more and the stains below our underarms may grow bigger, but hey, it’s not the end of the world…is it?

Jeff Charlebois

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