FWD: New babblings from Dr. Sluice
McElligot's Cesspool
"Young man," laughed the plumber, "you're a dumb-ass fool!You'll never catch fish in McElligot's Cesspool!"
"You might catch some flies or intestinal wormsor a parasitic cluster of bacterial germs,or toilet paper waded in a very tight bunch,or bits of salmonella-laced regurgitated lunch,but it's a plain simple truth, which you plain can't avoid, that you won't catch a fish, but you might catch typhoid."
"Really?" asked Marco,"You think? Think you're right?I'm sort of surprised,now that you're in my sight."
"You seem sort of the sort who can barely form thought,a curse that your inbreeding parents hath brought –but I'll tell you something, now that you've got me started,I'll try to speak clearly, because you're clearly retarded...
"I'm fully aware that this pool's full of crap,and there must be causation for this unhappy mishap,as not-too-long-ago this pool was pristine,and causality suggests that sometime in-betweennot-too-long-ago and this sad current scene, a cause has effected McElligot's Stream -the source, of course, of what pours in this pool,where I fish while a plumber maligns me as 'fool.'
"Now, empirical method suggests logical means -when looking for causes, we'd best look upstream,upstream where McElligot's Stream flows downstream,once clean and pure, now impure and unclean,through McElligot's Forest, once proud and tall, now broken and burned and not standing at all…
"...for McElligot's Forest is now McElligot's Pasture,it's passed into grassland for for-profit venture;the grazing and raising of the Pre-Poll-ed Berferd -a beast so immense that one Berferd's a whole herd.
"The massive Polled Berferd stands twelve million tons,her weight is so great, shakes the earth when she runs,and when time comes to butcher, no sledge will suffice,they instead must employ a small nuclear device. This might seem extreme, but will at least guaranteethat all Berferd is irradiated and completelygerm-free.
"And butchers then butcher the one edible bitof Berferd, one inch below the left armpit,and that one half-once, slightly more, or slightly less,is flown to Los Angeles, via Federal Express,to be eaten at the pleasure and the leisure and the whim of the Richedester of the Richedester (you've heard about them).
"It may seem wasteful, those tasteful eight gramsthat cost two million acres of old forest stands,but markets will bear what money will buywhen markets go piggish and demand a supply.
"And what, you may ask, of McElligot's Stream?How is this relevant and what does this mean?I've pause to mention a subject so unpleasantas there may be ladies or gentlefolk present…
"Well… Polled Berferds crap, and they fart quite a bit,in fact and indeed, they're quite full of shit,and with no forest to filter those mountainous pilesthey spread forth unfiltered for miles and for miles, and pile into the stream where downstream it flowsright here to this pool, and right up in your nose."
The plumber turned pale and puked in his throat,he swallowed it down, but managed to quoteaccidentally, most likely, words from Joseph Conrad,"the horror," he mumbled, as if he had gone mad…
To the plumber, Marco paid no respect and no mindand continued his ranting akin and in kind; "The Berferd is only one part of this mess,others take part, some in more, some in less…"
"If you skip up ahead, just a bit, in this book, you'll find we found answers when we took a look past McElligot's Forest – or what was before,upstream many miles and then many miles morethrough McElligot's Foothills which rise to the base of McElligot's Mountain, an inspiring placewhere McElligot's Waterfalls fall from on high,from up there somewhere between mountain and sky.
"But where McElligot's Falls once fell like a fountain,a drip merely dripped from McElligot's Mountain…
"What freak of nature or nature of freakcould contrive to contort a cascade so to tweakthis barreling torrent to so barely a leak?
"To un-fuddle this muddle and make clear the oblique,to your feet, dear reader, make haste as I speak,for we must climb, and then climb, toward McElligot's Peak…
"Where McElligot's Glacier has stood icy and clearthrough the iciest of ages, for two millions of year,freezing and melting and freezing by season,over and over with rhythmical reason,to ice from snow to rain from steam, and the source, of course, of McElligot's Stream.
"As we summit the summit atop of the topof McElligot's Mountain, our hearts leap and stopand catch in our throats, and break as if clay,for McElligot's Glacier has melted away!Gone! Or replaced, to be more precise, by McElligot's Puddle-With-A-Few-Cubes-Of-Ice.
"No freak of nature, this unnatural change -the melting of glaciers on each mountain range.'What nature of freak?' is the nature of question.So, naturally, we're off to where Congress is in session and that imbecilic hick and insufferable jerk-off, Senator Jimbo O'Okey-O'Dokey O'Inhofesits on the Committee Of Environmental Degradation,committed to degrading each environmental regulation."
"For Jimbo's pockets are lined deep with coal.He's oil and he's coal to the depths of his soul.And when science deduces, as clear as the day,as plain as plain fact, and in ten thousand ways, that the reason our planet is beginning to broil is the carbon released by the burning of oiland the carbon released by the burning of coal,Jimbo is offended to depths of his soul.
"So, for years, Jimbo has sought no solutionto the mounting evidence of Carbon Pollution,and that Jimbo O'Dokey, like all of his ilk,when lost for excuses to swindle or bilk,pulled an ace from his sleeve in attempt to appease us, and rejected science in the name of Sweet Jesus(his personal Jesus, who speaks only to him -they also go bowling and work out at the gym).
"So, Jimbo doesn't believe in Climatology…not Glaciology… or Meteorology…Geophysics, Statistics or plain-old Geology,Oceanography, Hydrology or basic Biology,and so on and so forth for So-Many-ologies - that Jimbo O'Okey O'Dokey O'Inhofe,shot in the foot by shooting his mouth off,is so seemingly mad, and obsessed with Mythology;far too far-gone to be saved by Psychology,Pathology, Neurology or even Proctology - it's so seemingly sad; we'd issue an apologyif it wasn't all a put-on – just a Big Phony-ology -a study in phony-baloney so corruptthat even Sweet Jesus can't cover it up.
"In a republic where public involvement is soughta citizenry could insist (and perhaps it ought),that Big Phony Jimbo and all we electwho deny the existence of the greenhouse effect,fly a fact-finding mission to what lies between us - between us and The Sun - our lovely sister Venus.
"On Venus, the greenhouse effect ran away,and a carbon atmosphere has since held its sway.On the surface, at 750 (Fahrenheit) degrees,Led, Zinc (and Senators) are melted with ease.
"And while Okey O'Dokey has fun in the sun,responsible representatives could get something done,and radically alter our carbon emissionsby imposing and enforcing strict carbon restrictions.
"And then maybe… just maybe… things could improve,cooler heads could prevail, from the brink we could move -from the brink of extinction's bottomless pit,where we're standing right now, standing right before it, pretending it's not there, and wondering why it's hot.Maybe… just maybe… but then again… maybe not."
"Catatonic, the plumber was struck mute and dumb -curled in fetal position, and sucking his thumb.In just speculation, it'd be fair to say,his chance encounter with Marco had ruined his day."
"Now, one last thing, Plumber, should be one thing enough."Marco grumbled in a voice that was a little bit gruff,"You diss me for fishing in this crap-filled pool,presume you know better and assume I'm a fool, but your presumption is false and assumption thus erring -I'm not fishing for a fish – not a perch or a herring…"
"Last weekend while gambling and whoring out west,I put forth a wager to be proven by test -and bet twenty thousand with a wealthy young twit,who told me my fishing pole couldn't catch shit!"
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