Dear Al Gore,
Let me just start by saying this: I know you’re not a scientist. I know you weren’t even the first one to ring the alarm bells, with regards to this planet going to hell. But you have become the face for the movement, and thus, I’ll be addressing you. Pass the message on to your less well known, science-y friends, won’t you?
Here’s the thing: you fucked up.
Two words: Global. Warming.
You started warning us about it years ago. Told us the glaciers would melt, the deserts would expand, the average temperature of the world would go up, everywhere, by a couple of degrees.
And anyone who lived north of Florida?
Thought that sounded pretty awesome.
You see, when you’re talking to people who go into every winter knowing that they will, without a doubt, experience the eyeball freezing caress of -40 degrees, that they will be confronted with icy driving conditions until Easter, and that they will, at most, be rewarded for it with a scant 80-ish days of summer, you don’t call it “Global Warming.”
“Global Warming” sounded like something I could get behind.
(I personally spent the early ’90s working on my own, dedicated hole in the ozone layer by eschewing the pump bottle of Aqua-Net, heading straight for the hardcore, aerosol version.)
(I regret nothing.)
If you had just called it “Global Weather Fuck-Up-edness”,
and told us it would snow in Calgary in FUCKING JUNE,
(Please note the scared, confused, and very green grass cowering under the flakes.)
Well, the buy-in from us northern folk would have been much, much quicker.
Semantics, sir. It comes down to your lack of a grasp on them.
Al Gore from here.
1991 Ginny from some nameless Josten’s photographer.
and the snow from my friend Curtis in Calgary, who patiently waited all afternoon for more snow to fall, just so he could get this shot. What a guy!)