Wednesday, May 25, 2011

What's a little fracking amongst friends?

Ugh, this slimy, smarmy dick makes my blood pressure rise every time his nasty mug graces my tv screen- which is every morning, and several times every morning. There he is again, with that fixed know-it-all "this is so obvious, and so EASY" little smirk, explaining to us stupid non-vampires that "new technology" makes it possible to "unlock" a "hundred years" worth of natural gas from subterranean rocks. This "breakthrough" means a hundred years of OPEN signs, and lots and lots of patriotic bunting (and, we can presume, picnics featuring fried chicken, hot dogs and apple pie, fireworks, and White Presidents. You know, like G-d intended.)

All we have to do is ignore those flea-bitten, unpatriotic hippies who bitch and moan about flammable water coming out of the kitchen faucet, as the released gas makes DDT look like a benign chemical by comparison. Thankfully for this money-grubbing corporate whore, Rachel Carson has been dead for fifty years and the Bought and Paid For Media has no great interest in reviving the environmental movement. So it's Drill Baby Drill with a different kind of poison being extracted from the ground- it's not black, it's not slick, it's conveniently invisible- but it's effects sure as hell aren't.

But hey, life is all about trade-offs, isn't it? You want low-cost energy? Then let the oil companies tear the hell out of every National Park from the Green Mountains to Muir Woods. Stop bitching about oil spills which do no real harm unless you are a shrimper, a fisherman, or a living organism which depends on the sea for life. And when pompous, preachy little pricks with confident smiles tell you that we can make America energy independent, how dare you even ask about the environmental cost? I mean, come on- you want potable water? You can buy it by the case at your local Shoppers Food Warehouse.

After all, don't you WANT America to be a land of red, white and blue bunting and OPEN signs? Isn't that WORTH a little drinking water?

Priorities, people!


  1. He's probably related to the coffin stuffer who used to blight my airwaves with ads about the lovely tar sands of Alberta. Whereever people who prostitute themselves to the petrochemical industry come from, we'll run out of their product before we run out of them.

  2. It's really all about the home entertainment room. One sits in place with beer in beverage holder (eliminating the painful process of bending over to the coffee table where the beer used to be) and allows The Situation Room to lull us to sleep before the big game -- sponsored by everybody. And the gas and oil flows in the background to supply the power for this and the mighty SUV out back, which is a rolling version of the same room. So long as nothing offends or mitigates this perfect situation, all is well. The man of the house visits his car dealership, dressed in a freshly-washed long-sleeve T, an untended three-day beard, a baseball topper, Chinese court shoes, and Honduran Levis. The message is that all is well, all is comfortable, and work is easy. This fellow is up for a promotion if he plays his cards right and avoids the knifing from the other fellow just upstairs. Therefore he must adore the party line and smile.

  3. Worst part is, a lot of people sold away oil rights on their land because they needed the money and didn't know what they were getting into. Then the fracking started, so I guess they're trying to get those rights back, but I'd imagine it's pretty hard to do.