Jay Currie

Climate fun with Mark Steyn.

A few years ago, the little old lady who served as my town’s historian for many decades combed over the farmers’ diaries from two centuries ago that various neighbors had donated to her: From the daily records of 15 Januarys, she concluded that three were what we’d now regard as classic New Hampshire winters, ideal for lumbering or winter sports; eight had January thaws, and four had no snow at all. This was in the pre-industrial 18th century.

Today, faced with eight thaws and four entirely snowless Januarys, we’d all be running around shrieking that the great Gaia is displeased. Wake up and smell the CO2, people! We need to toss another virgin into the volcano. A virgin SUV, that is. Brand-new model, straight off the assembly line, cupholders never been used. And as the upholstery howls in agony, we natives will stand around chanting along with High Priestess Natalie Cole’s classic recording: ‘’Unsustainable, that’s what you are.’‘

One of the things which will begin to turn the tide against the climate change folks (other than a fairly brisk cooling as we see solar activity decline) is a keen sense of the absurd which underlies much of their alarms and hysteria.