Via Tim Blair, I have been reading the pensées of Mr Dave Lindorff. Dave has taken time from his campaign to impeach Bush to pen a piece in the Baltimore Chronicle explaining the progressive line on Republican refugees:
The area that will by completely inundated by the rising ocean—and not in a century but in the lifetime of my two cats—are the American southeast, including the most populated area of Texas, almost all of Florida, most of Louisiana, and half of Alabama and Mississippi, as well as goodly portions of eastern Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina...This is, as Dave point out, a "silver lining" to the cloud of Republican-induced climate change (emphasis added):
So what we see is that huge swaths of conservative America are set to face a biblical deluge in a few more presidential cycles.
There is a poetic justice to this of course. It is conservatives who are giving us the candidates who steadfastly refuse to have the nation take steps that could slow the pace of climate change, so it is appropriate that they should bear the brunt of its impact.Dave's website is called This Can't Be Happening! I guess not. But there's still plenty to enjoy on Dave's site. His poetry page, for example. I particularly enjoyed Gary Lindorff's Journeying on my feet, which begins:
The important thing is that we, on the higher ground both actually and figuratively, need to remember that, when they begin their historic migration from their doomed regions, we not give them the keys to the city. They certainly should be offered assistance in their time of need, but we need to keep a firm grip on our political systems, making sure that these guilty throngs who allowed the world to go to hell are gerrymandered into political impotence in their new homes.
Dave is also "an accomplished folk musician (guitar, vocals and saw)" and you can listen to him singing his "Iraq (and Iran) Rag" on the website. Perhaps this features him playing the saw. I'm not sure. Somehow, I haven't managed to find time to listen yet.
I am standing over the toilet peeing,
staring right through the wall,
right through the white wicker shelf,
through the veil
of all those tenacious molecules of paint
into a waking dream
seamlessly woven out of
past and future
and personal power.
I want to be happy!