(From August 14, 2012)
Rarely have I been so... amazed... at the pride in which some folk display their deliberate ignorance, willful bigotry , unabashed greed, and complete lack of basic human consideration for either the ecology or their neighbors' welfare as I was tonight at the Spencer, NY, town meeting.
"I ain't from the Republic of Ithaca," one steadfast Spencerite declared. Implying, one might guess, that Ithaca is the City of what? Evil? Nope. Worse: tree-huggers, religious atheists, corporate non-believers, and an unhealthy mass of other embarrassing, clearly unAmerican degenerates? The best part was that the recent ex-mayor of Ithaca was sitting right next to me at the time this mal mot was said. The “Did he just say that?” look on her face was fucking priceless.
So all us weird people who are against hydrofracking... what exactly is our problem? (Besides being terrorist sympathizers, that is.) Here it is: We’re CHICKEN. Another of Spencer’s lifelong well-known citizens listed among his crayon-scrawled pro-fracking arguments that “Most forms of energy come with some risk. You can’t expect to get things without some kind of risk.”
So I’m what? Yellow? A sissy if I don’t want my ground water to contain carcinogens, endocrine disruptors, and to be (omigod how unforgivably wussy of me to complain about it, but) FLAMMABLE???
And so... the War on the Environment progresses like the run-up to the season finale of American Idiot. Not “Idiot.” Idol? Idle, that's it. American Idle. The saviors of the energy race are bound and determined to forcibly jam their side-wells into our pristine countryside, all in the name of... ummm... energy independence... US superiority (“fuck the middle East”)... gas-industry godliness.
So we have our house on the market. 23 years of bucolic paradise squelched by a bunch of greedy dimbulbs. We just had a jaunt into Bernieville, also known as Sanders-tarium. God knows how long he'll last; maybe they'll Leninize him... give him a formaldehyde juicebox and stick him in the Vermont State Capitol on a revolving pedestal with sound bites emanating from the base, just to keep him going.
So our neighbors, all God-fearin' simple humble folk, have invested in the New Energy Future, run up Old Glory (a couple actually do fly the StaznnnBarrrrzzz), and signed on the dotted line. Meanwhile the rest of us are hopin’ ‘n prayin’ for a rein-tarnation of that slave-holdin’ backwoods sage, Dan'l Webster, to materialize and argue agin old Mr. Splitfoot, his hand-picked jury of demonic politicians, and save our sorry uninformed asses and nullify the deal these patriots done signed.