Tim Blair and bogus climate change versus risk management

Over at Tim Blair-sville, small pond to many loons, there's still no news about the New York Post's monkey apology. Guess it's old news, no need to bother now. Phew. That balance stuff is for dumb softie liberals. Never give an inch, to infinity and beyond.

And not a hint about that Queensland murder victim's head being used as a bowling ball. Funny, given the way Blair just loves to report in slobbering detail on an Islamic beheading.

No, it's back to the future again. In his latest scribble, Tim gets very bold under the header Green Wedge. He knows the real demonstrable truth about global warming: It sure isn't an issue that lives outside of politics, on account of it being utterly bogus.

Reminds me of a Christian saying with certainty there's absolutely only one god, his. Proof please. Or an atheist saying with absolute certainty there's no gods at all. Proof please.

Day after day Blair grinds on about global warming like a fundie preacher speaking of sin, in little snippets and gobbets that snipe and cavil and have all the logic and time-keeping skills of a clock with worn-down gears and a hand or two missing.

I guess either a mass of people are in the grip of a bogus hysteria, or Tim Blair is hysterically sure they're all hysterics. But he doesn't have to provide any proof. He's got a set of true believers and they know the truth.

Such certainty, such fervid passionate belief. I wish I had that kind of dumb intensity. With the world scheduled to hit nine billion by 2040, resources finite (I mean we haven't made it to Mars just yet, and the moon doesn't seem like an Aladdin's cave), you'd think risk management might involve taking some sensible precautions, rather than acting like cockroaches out for a mindless good time knowing that in the end they'll be the only ones to survive a nuclear blast. 

Reminds me of the old folk tale about the frog sitting in slowly warming water, but of course we all know that's just Al Gore recycling an old folk myth for his own evil purposes. I mean a frog in slowly boiling water will jump out as soon as it gets unpleasant, right, and sure as heck I intend to jump right off this planet the moment things start to go wrong with it. I'm thinking the Horsehead nebula is a pleasant, picturesque place in which to set up shop.

Meantime, here's a nineteenth century cartoon by the wondrous Grandville showing the trees and the fishies having a little gloat about silly humans.