Although there was nothing mellow about the saffron-coloured sky today as the ancient eucalypt forest in the coastal ranges of northern New South Wales burned, giving up its carbon to the atmosphere and settling into its lifeless future as a blackened ghostly vanguard for our future - a ghastly monument to the ignorant, frightened deniers of reality and the mendacity of politicians who have sold the future for the ephemerality of political gain.
Even as eleven thousand climate scientists from 153 countries unite to declare a global climate emergency, a catastrophic threat, predicting that untold human suffering is unavoidable without huge shifts in the way we live, our Prime Minister (who famously brandished a lump of coal during Parliamentary Question Time, grinning like a chimp on speed and shouting "This is coal! Don't be afraid! Don't be scared!") takes his lead from Trump and Johnson, and sidesteps the problem by ignoring it.
It is possible that his egregious god-bothering is motivated by a genuine belief that these are indeed the Pentecostal's "End Times", and that he will indeed be beamed-up, thus avoiding the horror of the inevitable disaster of global warming's end game, so why should he give a shit whether eleven thousand climate scientists are right or not.
But perhaps he should consider the alternative that they aren't, he wont and they are.
When the shit really hits the flames and the planet becomes incapable of sustaining its burgeoning human population, when the future of mankind on a burning planet becomes moot, and when retribution becomes the only action available to a furious populace, the tumbrils will eventually start rolling, and Morrison and his fellow climate criminals can look forward to becoming new subjects for Madame Defarge's knitting.
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