As the largest human civilization in the history of the planet burns its way into a new year, like passengers on a ship in the middle of the ocean torching the vessel’s hull planks to power the hot tub, many are asking the same question: Am I pregnant?
But those who aren’t one of the 90,500 people per month who ask a search engine to tell them their reproductive status, are asking another, perhaps even more worrisome question: Is this the decade we finally stop acting like cave men, and stop incinerating shit for energy?
To find out, we spoke to a number of neanderthals.
“Naaaaarghhhhhh,” a Canadian man named Domessa Rock shouted, as he attempted to corner a large Dodge Ram while armed with nothing but a key fob and a shearling jacket. “Fire goot! Jet skis need burn shit. In-home cinema not run on wind. Naaaaaaaaargh renewable energy!”
With experts estimating that as many as 1 in 2 voters in western nations still subscribe to views that are little changed since we pooed in one corner of a rock den and slept in the other, it appears that the key to combating climate change may lie in trying to convince people living in the space age to stop living in the stone age. Good fucking luck.
“Yaaaaargh burn. Burn good for planet. Planet fine. Ask any man,” says Mr. Rock’s workmate Thiccessa Brick, when we pick him up from his 6-bedroom, 3-garage modern caveman man cave, on the suburbs of the city.
“Maybe no Australia right now,” he concedes, rubbing his knotty brow bone.
Asked for their thoughts on harnessing the power of the sun, the men pointed out no one knows for certain what the sun even is, but that our best guess is that it’s an irascible god who won’t take kindly to having his essence used to power Teslas.
And on the subject of wind power, they laughed until the truck went off the road and we flipped end-over-end three times before coming to a rest against a gas station. While we waited for emergency services they said, “wind no very good dumb. It looks terrible!”
A cold breeze swept across the bleak brown landscape around us, here in the winter of our false contentment. As the attending firemen cut this reporter’s seatbelt away, and gently positioned a cervical collar around my neck, the original question continued to sound in my bleeding ears: Will this be the decade we turn things around? Sadly, it appears nargh.