Climate Cat

Spam Bluesky accounts aren’t even trying anymore.

How hard can it be?

“Weather witch who escaped a Jane Austen novel.

By day I summon hurricanes. By night I hand-feed heirloom snap peas. Recently co-signed the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty.

Click here to unlock my Regency-era Only Fans.”

It was was in that most private of chambers, where mortal man seeks both relief and reflection, that I was beset by a headline most grievous and cruel.

The choice is ours: to gnaw at the carcass of a world undone, or to craft, even yet, a sustenance worthy of generations to come.

And so, gentle reader, if it falls to you to consider this most unnatural dish, consider also the banquet of history spread before us.

The table is long, the hour is late, the candles burn low.

The Tunaturducken asks us whether we shall be creatures of mere appetite or creatures of imagination; whether we shall feast upon folly or forge from it a parable of restraint, fellowship, and renewal.

If we can face with solemn honor the absurdity of uniting tuna with turkey, duck, and chicken, perhaps we may also face the still greater absurdities of our age; the refusal to relinquish power, the denial of science, the apathy of the comfortable while the seas rise and the forests burn.

The Tunaturducken is an emblem, a metaphor, it is the very dilemma of our species, forever combining what should not be combined, consuming more than the earth can offer, stuffing the hollow carcass of the future with the fleeting pleasures of the present.

In a time when fascism marches in boots across the streets, and climate collapse howls like a storm through the rafters of our common home, who dares say that the joining of fish and fowl is a trifle?

They were creatures never meant to meet, much less to be conjoined.

And yet in this age (our strange and sorrowing age) the mind, beset by calamity, takes refuge in possible fusions.

The question presses not merely upon the tongue but upon the very conscience.

The Tunaturducken, a broader reflection on our age of peril.

A turkey, proud and puffed with fanlike feathers; a duck, sleek and smooth as it sails upon the water like Shelley on the Arno; a chicken, homely, industrious, clucking an eternal warning; a tuna, glistening from the deep.

Television kills telephony in brothers’ broil.

Our eyes demand their turn.

Let them be seen!

What if we took the drinking water used to cool the AI data centers, and used it to cool the nuclear reactors powering the AI data centers, then bottled it as "Aesthetic Water"?

The Carbon Goddess (looking suspiciously like Jane Morris) wants to know.

What if we took the drinking water used to cool the AI data centers, and used it to cool the nuclear reactors powering the AI data centers, then bottled it as "Aesthetic Water"?

The Carbon Goddess (looking suspiciously like Jane Morris) wants to know.

it all began with Clippy

the original Renaissance man

I'll bring my Antikythera mechanism.

climate cat in Whistler's peacock room

Doesn't every house have a Peacock Room?

Lit by moonlight on the Thames?

Plüschfessor Louisidor

Graf von Kuschelforschung

wow.

Do the juvenile or immature librarians feel excluded?

Nothing says irrational exuberance like a young librarian.

"Volcanic, the fault line" is a great name for a band.

Beautifully written.

How bootifull and how truetowife of her, when strengly forebidden, to steal our historic presents from the past postpropheticals so as to will make us all lordy heirs and ladymaidesses of a pretty nice kettle of fruit.

Charlie: So began the curious chronicle of Martin Marmoset, a whiskery little fellow born beneath a misfiled tax ledger in the back office of a minor solicitor’s firm, young Master Marmoset believed himself destined for greatness . . .

editor: let's go with Chuzzlewit.

Gregorian or Mayan date?

If Mayan, maybe 13.0.12.14.4 is a day to remember.

plus they're:

trivets for hot and cold drinks

flyswatters

sucked into Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the center of our galaxy.

PLEASE DON'T PLUCK THE BLACK HOLE OUT

YOUR FRIEND,

Sagittarius A*