I’m feeling nostalgic these days. Nostalgic for global warming.
New England winters like San Diego springs. Oceans rising all around us. The landlocked unwittingly blessed with beachfront property. Sigh. Sure, the environmentalists screamed and moaned about losing the polar bear but, deep down, they went to bed salivating at the prospect of increased access to fresh fish tacos.
Now we have “climate change.” Idiotic name. “Change” implies a shift in the routine. Instead it’s day upon day of subfreezing temperatures and foot upon foot of snow. You know: winter-like weather in winter. I do appreciate the endless supply of cocktail ice and that merely cracking a window prevents it from ever diluting my happy hour, but enough is enough.
Where’s a nutty professor claiming our zealous burning of fossil fuel will permanently keep our home heating bills in check when you need one?
Not my frozen twig and berries.