Here’s the cool thing about CO2 numbers that the Green Agenda folks don’t want us to know: in the end the amount of CO2 will fall, and fall to zero. Forget Bill McKibben’s 350 parts per million, how about no parts per million? You heard me, Tree Huggers—zero CO2. Now that’s clean air! And it’s coming. In about a billion years.
Sure that is a bit of a wait, but it’ll be worth it. Without CO2 there will be no greenhouse effect at all, and that means no plants, and without plants there will be no photosynthesis and that means no oxygen, and without oxygen there will be no animals or people, and that means no Animal Planet or reality television shows. Birds will hang on for a while, as will fish and insects, but by the time global temperatures rise to 130 degrees Fahrenheit these fellows too are gone. That leaves microbes hiding in the last vestiges of ice hugging the equator after the earth has titled on her access and Santa and his reindeer look like slabs of Slim Jim. And even the hearty microbe dies of thirst in about 2.8 billion years. So there is hope for this planet yet; if by “hope” you mean it’s turned into barren rock.
Of course by then we earthlings may be living on a Klingon outpost in another star system, or maybe the best of us have been raptured to be with Jesus in Heaven. As a Jew I prefer the former outcome, but not because I don’t love Jesus, I do; but because, like Hebrew, Klingon has that “ch” sound that the Rapture Ready cannot pronounce, and I think it would be fun to watch them order a smoking glass of chech’tluth at an upscale Klingon bar.
So as I crank up my AC to compensate for what promises to be a middle Tennessee summer modeled on the Amazon Rainforest, I look forward to knocking back a few steaming glasses of chech’tluth with my Klingon friends. 'LwlIj jachjaj!