Tales from Mother Earth
June 25, 2010
I got a call last night from Gaia Mother Earth. OK, she didn’t really call me. She texted me from her GreenBerry. You don’t believe she really contacted me, do you? You wonder why she would have anything to say to an acerbic, opinionated, constitutional fundamentalist like me.
Well, truth be told, she digs me because I tell her how pretty she is, how much better she is than all the other planets, which are really quite Dowdy (pun intended) by comparison, how great her hair looks and I always ask if she lost weight. She was out clubbing with her BFF Venus and all of sudden got sick as hell, had chills and was spewing an evil-smelling oily substance from deep under the ocean in the Gulf of Mexico. Someone called 911 and the Intergalactic Paramedics showed up immediately and rushed her to the closest emergency room somewhere near Alpha Centauri. There was a much closer one, but due to ObamaWorldCare and cutbacks and such, it had to close.
Anyhow, after extensive testing, it was discovered that she had peritonitis caused by her inability to eliminate fossil matter that had been festering in her for millions of years and she wasn’t getting nearly enough carbon dioxide. They stabilized her, gave her some antibiotics and a travel tank of CO2, told her she had to get rid of all those toxins, gave her a Percocet the size of Pluto, and sent her on her way.
She told me that she needed the help of the developed nations’ advanced technology and demonstrated ability to extract all that coal, oil and natural gas. Apparently, fossil fuels, as they are known to us, are as toxic to her as they are beneficial to us and she needs them gone. She asked me why, after doing such a great job helping her out for so long, we weren’t taking care of business. I told her it was pretty much the doing of enviro-activists and their tools, the Democrats, trying to enslave the population. She really went off at that, let me tell you! She was burning the screen up in all caps telling me about what it would be like for us if she really started getting sick and crying, having chills and fever, flatulence, PMS, and like that, I promised her that I’d spread the word to all the “useful idiots,” but they’d pretty much abandoned reason and were worshiping the false god ALGORE. She mumbled something about “bed wetter,” told me to promise to spread the word and see what I could do about getting some more plastic to her (which she confided to me is like sugarless Gummi Bears), apologized for whining, asked if I could get Sally Struthers to blubber on TV for her, told me to say, “hugs and kisses” to Chris (Lord Monckton), thanked me for listening, said “Sei Gesundt boychik” and went back to partying.
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