global scorning
Thanksgiving in Manhattan is beautiful this year. The weather is perfect -- it's mild, the sky is clear, the air is delightful. Even though it's a busy day for me, I ordered up a medium cappuccino w/two sugars and took a walk down to Battery Park to enjoy it. How could I not? The weather, the day, the Statue of Liberty -- all were beckoning.
Crowds were beginning to trickle in, vendors were setting up, and those living Lady Liberty replicas were already in place, all in anticipation of a busy day. These sights nudged my thoughts in a philosophical direction. Why should Thanksgiving Day bring big crowds to the Statue of Liberty? In a way, it makes sense, doesn't it? Liberty and Thanksgiving. They go together. And you get to Lady Liberty from...Battery Park. Battery. As in, battle. Battery Park is a war memorial. You don't get to Lady Liberty without passing through it.
I strolled over to the dock and took a seat where I could see Her clearly, basking in the gorgeous weather. Then I had a New York moment. In a flash I thought how such a beautiful day in November would probably send scores of New Yorkers to their therapists to exorcise their mortal fear of global warming. Scores more would probably try to organize protests of anything and everything American -- financial, industrial, useful -- and who knows how many warped ideas will be hatched all because it's a beautiful day in November.
Of course, one can't think of global warming without picturing the ranting, twisted mug of Al Gore, hollering and shaking his fist and pointing his fat, useless finger at someone...Al Gore, on a mission to make beautiful days in November joyless and tormented with guilt. Al Gore -- and, let the reader understand that we are talking of the universal Al Gore, not just the individual -- determined to make the few hours you might spend cruising down a beautiful country road in a Ford Explorer a sin worthy of self-flagellation. Al Gore, the poster-boy for warped ideas, and all his idiot stepchildren, on a mission to make good days in November a cause for national mourning and reparations to third world victims of western imperialism; to make everyone just as miserable as they are. And if he can make a few bucks in the process, well, that's gravy, baby. Soy gravy, of course. Guilt-free. No animals involved.
I have a hunch that his compulsion to infect the world with his personal misery sprung from the world-class humiliation Mr. Gore's life was made by his association with the Clinton presidency; with a sound defeat in a subsequent presidential election that he is apparently still struggling to accept. Because those whose insignificance makes them miserable won't feel significant until everyone's miserable with them. Because hell hath no fury like a fool scorned, he's set about scorning the globe for the beautiful days in November.
Crowds were beginning to trickle in, vendors were setting up, and those living Lady Liberty replicas were already in place, all in anticipation of a busy day. These sights nudged my thoughts in a philosophical direction. Why should Thanksgiving Day bring big crowds to the Statue of Liberty? In a way, it makes sense, doesn't it? Liberty and Thanksgiving. They go together. And you get to Lady Liberty from...Battery Park. Battery. As in, battle. Battery Park is a war memorial. You don't get to Lady Liberty without passing through it.
I strolled over to the dock and took a seat where I could see Her clearly, basking in the gorgeous weather. Then I had a New York moment. In a flash I thought how such a beautiful day in November would probably send scores of New Yorkers to their therapists to exorcise their mortal fear of global warming. Scores more would probably try to organize protests of anything and everything American -- financial, industrial, useful -- and who knows how many warped ideas will be hatched all because it's a beautiful day in November.
Of course, one can't think of global warming without picturing the ranting, twisted mug of Al Gore, hollering and shaking his fist and pointing his fat, useless finger at someone...Al Gore, on a mission to make beautiful days in November joyless and tormented with guilt. Al Gore -- and, let the reader understand that we are talking of the universal Al Gore, not just the individual -- determined to make the few hours you might spend cruising down a beautiful country road in a Ford Explorer a sin worthy of self-flagellation. Al Gore, the poster-boy for warped ideas, and all his idiot stepchildren, on a mission to make good days in November a cause for national mourning and reparations to third world victims of western imperialism; to make everyone just as miserable as they are. And if he can make a few bucks in the process, well, that's gravy, baby. Soy gravy, of course. Guilt-free. No animals involved.I have a hunch that his compulsion to infect the world with his personal misery sprung from the world-class humiliation Mr. Gore's life was made by his association with the Clinton presidency; with a sound defeat in a subsequent presidential election that he is apparently still struggling to accept. Because those whose insignificance makes them miserable won't feel significant until everyone's miserable with them. Because hell hath no fury like a fool scorned, he's set about scorning the globe for the beautiful days in November.
One gets the feeling that if he could wave a wand and make it "always winter...always winter and never Christmas,*" he would.
*CS Lewis, The Lion, the witch, and the wardrobe.
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