RUTHFULLY YOURS

Case in point, an unintentionally hilarious column in The Guardian shouting that we are all going to die from global warming. From, “It’s Too Late to Save Our World,” by Stewart Lee:

Everything will die soon, except for cockroaches, and Glastonbury favourite the Fall, who will survive even a nuclear holocaust, though they will still refuse to play their 80s chart hits.

Everything? Really? Yes.

The destruction of all life on Earth is inevitable if fossil fuel use continues unabated.

Inevitable? Yes!

Our children already have no stable baseline from which to calibrate the loss of all that lives. It’s game over.

Bearing this in mind, I finally find myself reluctantly agreeing with the business community. There is no time for delay. Let’s build the runway. Let’s choke the Earth. Let’s get this damn thing over with, for what can be avoided, whose end is purposed by the mighty gods of business? Hasten our demise, let our children be the last of their sorry line, and spare their unborn descendants any further suffering. We will not save the rhino. We will not even save the hedgehog. How can we save the world?

And here’s the really funny part:

But, if you can purge cheap sentiment from your mind, how exciting and fascinating it will be to watch as the world becomes uninhabitable. It’s almost worth going on a health kick to survive another 60 years and see everything immolated. How many humans have had the awe-inspiring opportunity to witness such spectacle: the end of all that is?

But something of us should be preserved, I think, for posterity.

Wait. If we are all dead, if the “whole damn thing” is going to be “over with,” if it’s the “end of all that is,” there won’t be any posterity.

Kinda proves Lee doesn’t believe his own hysteria, doesn’t it? Unless he doesn’t know the definition of “posterity.”