This is a new one. Who says cults are moribund and can’t come up with new stuff. The sad part is that major news outlets, in this case, the LA Times, publish this cult crap
When climate change looms, how are you supposed to fall in love?
I asked a man to marry me once. Until I met him, I had never known the way that love could provide the magnetic pull of a bearing. Like a pulse through the air, I felt the idea of him everywhere.
For three years, we had been living in the eastern Sierra Nevada. I was as enchanted by our mountain home as I was by him — but it was a demanding affair.
Each summer, there were little losses. A camper left without realizing his fire’s embers remained warm, and what was started for s’mores spread, igniting nearby brush. An acre burned. A mountain biker leaned too far right into a tight turn; their pedal struck rock and sparked. One hundred acres burned. My favorite trail was buried in a landslide. I set out to climb a glacier, only to find that it had melted and was gone.
So, a biker (hey, don’t Warmists want Everyone Else to ride bikes instead of fossil fueled travel?) accidentally caused a fire, and we’re supposed to what, give up our modern lifestyles?
From atop the high ridge we walked one evening, I stretched out my finger and traced along the horizon the part of the valley most likely to be destroyed when the inevitable wildfire came. “Don’t you think there are better places to live through this?” I asked him, touching my nose to his nose. It would be hard for him to leave our tiny town. He was an immigrant; his status was tied to his work. “We could get married,” I offered, kicking up snow. Little crystals sprayed around his knees. At home later, we finished two bottles of Grüner Veltliner, maps unfolded around us, pointing out new places we could go.
By the next morning, he had changed his mind. He asked me to leave without him — to leave him.
Illegal or legal? Maybe if you hadn’t freaked out you wouldn’t have had a…checks notes…breakup like has happened since the dawn of Mankind. You aren’t special, it it has nothing to do with ‘climate change’. Anyhow, she became a “journalist”. Looks more like an activist. Skipping forward
An increasing body of research affirms the worry that human-caused global warming may rob us of a future — or one that is pleasant and survivable for most species, anyway. Depending on who you ask, we have somewhere between six and 10 years left until the planet’s atmosphere will cross an atmospheric tipping point beyond which there is no return. Some argue it’s a line we’ve already crossed.
It does not spark joy.
Visit a qualified mental health professional so you can be deprogrammed.
The climate crisis takes so much from us: cool summer nights and the ability to chit-chat with Trader Joe’s cashiers about the weather without wanting to suddenly weep, yes — but there’s also the bigger, harder-to-name thing. What do we do if our love cannot withstand these ever-worsening storms that disrupt our dreams and uproot our lives?
Good grief.
In my work, I have spoken to many people in the midst of an emergency’s fulcrum, fighting to survive unprecedented heat waves, ice storms or floods. Not one of them has made it through on the might of a single relationship. Neighbors install sprinkler systems to point to each other’s roofs in case of fire; community networks deliver life-saving medical equipment days before emergency managers could have. I recognize a bone-deep yearning in these orchestrations. My understanding of what a bond can accomplish is stretched. Such relationships might make here good and elsewhere possible.
So a warming world causes ice storms which means we can’t have relationships? How did people have them during the previous Holocene warm and cool periods? Wackjob cultists.
Read: Climate Doom Means People Can’t Fall In Love Or Something »
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