Everything Nonfiction I’ve Written In The Past Month

Dear, compassionate reader, I know I’ve neglected you. I re-emerge, tattered with a scribbly beard that’s conquered most of my face, hair matted in man-oil from a lifetime unwashed, an untrained organic hollowness in my heathen eyes. I went missing in a jungle, was forgotten after a while. Nature and instinct taught me to kill a tiger with my hands and well-placed headbutts, lure cows off cliffs into a growing campfire below (my last memory of society was how similar this was to Road Runner cartoons, but with realistic, horrific sound effects) and talk to the plants. They told me which of them would cure me, poison me and guide me outside my body, into the spirit world this shamanic forest had grown and weaved itself so close to. Due to this, obviously I was high as fuck for most of my fight against natural selection, but it still sobered me into the native philosopher who witnesses death each day, among the animals he calls brothers, and thinks nothing of his own doom pulsing closer with the earth’s every breath.  I called it understanding the land that fed and hardened me. Psychologists call it Stockholm Syndrome.

No, I’ve just been busy. Though my beard is overgrown, and my eyes grow vacant before this computer screen. Yet, reader, you maintain my sanity. Read on, and know you are still my life. Naww.

An exclusive for the Area News, which they had me do because the other regular climate change voices are old, unbelieving cane-waggers who spend their spare time pointing and laughing at trees for being hippie-huggers. I adored the chance to take on 20 columnists at once – the vast minority are always very wrong, or very right.

I’m sceptical of climate change sceptics. A sceptic is meant to use rational, critical thought, see the debate from all sides and be unbiased. So why do they rely on yelling louder than the apocalyptic, believing preachers?

Many blame politics. Liberals tend to believe, where conservatives deny manmade global warming – so we draw tribal battle lines for an unpolitical issue. Science and politics feed off each other. Researchers are paid to take sides.

Not many are speaking for the believers, since countless hacked e-mails surfaced from a British university suggesting that researchers hid a decrease in global warming. Now, sceptics are calling warming a hoax with no real proof. After reading these, I believe it’s nothing huge for the debate, but enough opinion.

For the first time, here are facts. Evidence and knowledge that both sides in the letters page ignore for ego’s sake. Everything you deserve to know.

Earth’s climate goes hotter and colder in waves. The last cold period was in Medieval times, called the two-year winter. This was like the Ice Ages, which wiped out countless species and almost destroyed prehistoric Man. Now we ask, are we worsening the coming hot period by treating the earth like one more throwaway package?

Most recent evidence shows that since Man came down from the trees, health problems – and the things we give ill health – have only climbed. We’re too smart for our own willpower and empathy. Today it’s asbestos lawsuits, tumour-filled salmon, the Chinese non-smoking city slicker’s polluted lungs wrecked like a smoker’s. Our mess also allegedly peers down at us from the tattered ozone layer.

The American Academy of Paediatrics guaranteed in 2007 that climate change will affect children’s health, not just in the enormous natural disaster rise we’ve seen. They repeated scientists’ official estimate of the chance that humans have increased it – more than 90%.

Endless reports like this exist. Believing everything is foolish, denying it is dangerous. We’re probably overheating our home. If we’re wrong, our lives are hard evidence that we’re only cooking ourselves in poisonous air.

December’s column. I’ve never written poor about alcohol. Ancient Greece taught us that the gods handed it to us as a gift, which mystically makes great sense. The kebab’s original creators can’t be wrong.

More than half of Aussies accept teen drinking, a study revealed last week.

Over 40% of you don’t want your 15 to 17-year-olds drinking, yet for decades it’s been rare to meet one who never tasted alcohol until their 18th birthday. You can spot these elusive creatures on weekends by their stumble, the uncontrolled skull they down each beer in as if it tasted terrible, their torn clothes and fresh bruises.

The longer you hold a creature from something it wants, the hungrier it gets. We watch our friends enjoy things kept out of our reach, and this is multiplied. Half of a drug addict’s trouble comes from never finding a rush more intense than they can imagine. The drinker held back for too long dives headfirst into the pheromone-stinking nightlife for that same reason. Teach a youth to fear alcohol, or any other pleasure, and they’ll have an inner mountain to cross before they realise it’s enjoyable in moderation.

Yet this could be the lesser evil. Figures show that early drinkers are more likely to lean on alcohol in bad times, or become addicted.

We’ve tangled ourselves in a very complex knot.

These woes have one link: Believing that we’re happier drunk. Going blind to the difference between a slurring high and actual contentment, where we don’t need to shield our eyes from reality, or chug until it goes blurry.

Our worst habit is straining ourselves through work and life. Drinking afterward is a favourite medicine – some insist they need it. The Taoists believe that the more force and stress we put into work, the harder it is. Their solution is to not dwell, but take each moment for what it is – it’s proven that more energy is wasted by stressed thinking than anything. Men live for shorter mostly due to this.

Maybe thought patterns alone compel some parents to bubble-wrap their children, and their young adults to cure everything with chemicals later.

For now, replace your booze worries with another thought: There were worse habits in last week’s news. Internet addicts are far more likely to self-harm and attempt suicide. We’re all net addicts nowadays.

A woman baffled Dutch scientists – she’s a sex addict, but only while sleeping.

It could always be worse.

December’s NextGen piece. The theme: Santa Claus. This was marked to be a fluff piece from its conception – the others chose among themselves while I argued with a German chick who writes for us. In German, a language I can’t remember learning. Also, they don’t actually let us say Fuck.

The bitter atheist’s favourite Christmas story is about Coca Cola designing Santa. Myth-smashing website snopes.com confirms this is false, but let’s discuss Coke. Like Santa, its history marches over time and continents. Each bottle wears its red clothes and cap, elf helpers for super wealthy Executives – or maybe Illuminati, Freemasons and Martians bent on controlling Mankind’s refreshment, who knows? They won’t share the recipe, let alone their evil intentions.

Now, using the Santa Claus legend, I’ll convince you that he works for Coca Cola – and is the Antichrist, plotting to rule us through them. If my columns disappear in the next month, they have the Area News too. It’s likely they own Fairfax. Coca Cola is probably watching you through this newspaper.

Boycotts against Santa rose with Christmas’s commercialisation. Distraction from the holiday’s holy meaning, greedy corporate domination, et al. We all know Coke boycotters – ask around. Both these protests sprouted around the same time – when Santa’s uniform changed from blue to red and white. The Coke colours.

Other opposition slams the elaborate, dishonest lie that some believe we tell children. This is invalid because SANTA IS FUCKING REAL.

The first Catholic missionaries gave old European gods saint names, either made up or fused into real Christians. Odin would ride the sky on his horse at Yule-time, children left it stockings of carrots and whatever else the Vikings fed horses, probably Irish monks and their own limbs. They were hardcore. He rewarded the children with lollies.

Odin became Saint Nicholas of Myra, then Sinterklaas – or, anglicised, Santa Claus.

Ultra-Baptist site landoverbaptist.com goes further, calling Mall Santas Satan’s elves:

“Satan’s evil plan has created jobs for hundreds of thousands of old lecherous pedophiles throughout this Godly country every December.”

Santa? Satan? It’s an anagram!

… No. I’m finished. This is too convincing.


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