The Snows of Madness, Kyoto edition

You may be filled with glee at the sinking of the Kyoto treaty, but for our politically correct betters, it is as if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have been saddled up, their horses filled with oats, and fresh sabres, sharpened, issued. You can carve up the ranks of the activists into sub species: the cynical parasites whose purses and man bags are stuffed with laundered green government money; the ruthless ladder climbers whose forked tongues are wrapped around the throbbing shaft of white guilt to the end of career advancement; and the deluded slurpers of white guilt who actually believe the sticky stuff they are gurgling down is as good for them as the moaning fellow giving it to them says.


Some say that liberalism is a mental disorder; this is usually taken to be hyperbole. In an era of pop psychology, astrology for the masses, and libraries filled with dusty books, bolshevik pension earning staff, and needle exchange buckets in the pissoirs, one does not refer to scientific research from the past, but candied opinions of the present. So, I challenge you to research your Freud. When you obsess about something, you develop neurosis, says he. Tell me that the obsession the sticky faced activists have for climate change is not an obsession. They are neurotics. The end of Kyoto will edge a representative sample into psychosis. Go do your own research on that.

Walk in the activists sandals for a mile or two. They really, really believe that the ice caps are going to melt. Real soon. Xillions of care bear cuddly African N-people will die like aborted babies in a abortionists clinic. The snows of winter did not thaw their reason about the reality of Global Warming; these emotionally driven minds merely shifted gears on their standard transmission magic carpets and geared up to Climate Change. The irrational is not a manifestation of a healthy mind; and unhealthy minds are prone to madness without the excuse of Syphilis. To those on the sole protein diet of white guilt, the world will come to an end without the end of human production of carbon dioxide. The logic, the charts, the details (you know, China makes more CO2 stuff, four years of awful winter, blah blah blah) mean as little as the disapproval of subway patrons to a smirking gangbanger as he empties his bladder on the Bloor-Danforth line. But run with it (like a gangbanger with your stolen i-pod): these people believe the world is going to end because there is no Kyoto. You can giggle at them. But what do people who believe their world is going to be swallowed up in the dust clouds of doom to the choir of burning innocents singing with N-person harmony do? If you were convinced the world was going to end, badly, what would you do? Hmmm? What horrible details do I have to conjure up to spark your imagination? And that is you; you have neither Syphilis nor Climate Change as an excuse. What will those people do? All of them? No. Just some of them? Maybe. A few of them? Certainly.

In a country without freedom of speech, I cannot much say. The Snows of Madness are upon us this fall, early again. I welcome the snow, I welcome the extinction of the tapeworms of the Climate Change con artists guild, but I do not relish the outbreak of madness in the activist community. I have to share road space with them; they travel on urine splashed public transit; they have access to propane cylinders, private aircraft, and unleashed war dogs. Avoid crowds, I guess.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.