Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I always wanted a Nobel Prize. And an Oscar. And a Grammy. Why? I'll tell you why, its the babes, the chicks, the prestige groupies! C'mon baby, wanta come back to my pad and check out my Nobel? I've read about women lining up to be impregnated by a certified, world-recognized genius. There was even some dude a few years ago who tried to start a sperm bank with only Nobel donors. You instantly become the Alpha male in the center of the Baboon Circle when they hand you that sizzlin' Norwegian award. Its GREAT to be the king! No female can refuse you.
Imagine my surprise then to read the seamy tale of crazed sex-poodle Algore and the massage therapist. It seems a drunk Climate God sent for the massage therapist in the hotel where he was staying on a stop in his Holy Crusade To Save The Planet and made some 'unwelcome advances'. In fact, if he had been a mid-level executive or some other anonymous guest at the hotel one would go so far as to describe the unwelcome advance as an assault.
The details are available all over the internet and, to tell you the truth, are pretty standard for this kind of situation. Alternating whining and rage as he tries to pin down and trap his victim. If Algore had been a nobody the therapist would have slugged him or called the cops and that would have been that. Just another drunk, tubby loser on a slow night in Portland. The hotel and the women's friends discouraged her from contacting the authorities because...its GREAT to be the king!...wrecking Algore's reputation would be Bad For The Planet!
But let's ignore all that stuff and look at this a little more objectively. What kind of an idiot is alone in a hotel room, lonely, wanting female companionship and calls the front desk of the hotel to arrange for a licensed massage therapist? This was the cat who invented the internet! So I went on the internet and typed 'Escort Portland Oregon' into the search engine. There's an escort going by the name 'Mandy The Eskimo'. I clicked on 'services' and golly, that Mandy will do just about everything you could ask, and for a real reasonable price...and she's an eskimo! Also, on the long list of services that Mandy will provide is listed 'rubdown'. We can bet that Mandy isnt too fastidious to do the 'naughty bits'.
I've known a few 'legitimate' massage therapists. Animation studios sometimes hire them when there's a crushing deadline and everyone is working tons of overtime and after a few back and shoulder rubs you get acquainted. I used to live with a masseuse in San Francisco in my single days. All the legitimate masseuses that I have known take what they do very seriously. They have different methods and argue passionately over which is the most viable. They see themselves as professionals providing a helpful and valuable service and one thing makes them really, really angry...being associated with prostitutes.
So why did Algore treat this person like Mandy The Eskimo? Why didnt Algore call Mandy The Eskimo if that's the kind of massage he wanted? Why didnt he go down to the local Earth First chapter and drag off some willing climate groupie? That would have been simple. You or I wouldnt do it a) because we're married and b) listening to the tree-hugging babble for a couple of hours would be a complete turn-off and c) those granola girls are probably indiscreet and would go all over Portland bragging that they had had a little Global Warming by the Climate God. So maybe the groupie route wasnt an option. You still would think that Mr. Nobel Laureate could have had a tasteful interlude with some local married woman, someone who also needs discretion but still seeks to bask in your Academy Award Winning glow.
Nope, Al went for the crazed sex-poodle lunge. He didnt care that the oceans might rise, his own tide was in and that was all that mattered. So now the guy who stood up and called BJ Clinton 'The greatest President in American History' and told the press that there was 'no controlling legal authority' to prevent him from breaking the law while he was Vice President, the guy who traded his Gulf War vote in the Senate for extra TV time has handed us who despise him as a phony and a liar the ultimate 'global warming' argument. We can ridicule the God himself along with his self-serving scare stories.
What is it with these famous politicians? Did Governor Sanford really think that he could disappear for a week and come back no questions asked? Did Eliot Spitzer think that he could piss off everybody in the New York financial community and then go hang out with random hookers? Did John Edwards think that the whacky broad that he knocked up wouldnt tell anybody about it? Does Bill Clinton think nobody knew about Belinda Stronach and the multitude of others he's been seeing lately? Do these guys think they're so cool and smart and we're so dumb and the media is so compliant and their wives so ambitious that its all going to be fine, the secret will get kept. They think they've got everybody fooled when they flaunt their infidelity by nauseating public displays of affection to their spouses; the Clintons dancing on the beach with no music, the slobbery convention kiss that Al gave Tipper. But fulsome bragging about how much you love a spouse you've been married to for decades is like fulsome bragging about your sexual prowess... something's always fishy.
So now Algore is a crazed sex-poodle whose self-appointed crusade to save the planet has already taken some severe hits; his fellow Nobel-winners' IPCC report has been torn to shreds by revelations that the 'settled science' was lifted from the pages of the Greenpeace newsletter and basically made up; that his own 'hockey stick' is provably wrong, wrong, wrong: we're in a cool period; the oceans arent rising; the ice caps refuse to melt; studies show that there is no relationship in history between carbon levels and temperature and the theory of 'radiance' is a lot of hooey with no science behind it at all. Do people with settled science need to move temperature gathering instruments onto asphalt and near heating ducts to get the temperature readings they want and then 'lose' the real data when Freedom Of Information suits are filed to acquire the raw data? The disgraceful Copenhagen Climate Conference, occurring in the middle of a millennial blizzard called for saving the Earth by huge payouts to bloodthirsty dictators; the self-serving anti-western greediness opened a few eyes. Algore's Climate religion is beginning to feel some heat from reality, sinking in the polls.
Now Al is a crazed sex-poodle who has been dumped by the gal he snogged on the stage at the Democratic Convention. In 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask' Gene Wilder ends up on skid row sitting next to a sheep and drinking from a bottle of Woolite. Move over Gene, Al needs lots of room.