I don’t know when it happened, but sometime in the last year, all celebrities became expert scientists in the field of global climate change. Apparently they are the definitive sources on what we can do to stop global warming now. I have difficulties understanding why anyone would ever take scientific advice from any of these douchebags. Seriously. Actually, I find it so hard to understand this that whenever I even think about thinking about it my head hurts and I get cold sweats until I wash a Xanax down with a bottle of Chardonnay.

Does any celebrity have any type of educational background in science? I don’t think so. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I am more qualified to remove a brain tumor than Sheryl Crow is to tell me that only wiping my ass with one square means that the ice caps will stop melting.

I wipe my ass with at least six, by the way, and I only use ten-ply. Yeah, I said it. Sometimes I just throw toilet paper in the toilet and flush it to make sure that my plumbing is working properly.

It seems like everytime I read the paper I hear about some celebrity who is on a crusade to end global warming. How do these people get from public appearance to public appearance? A limo, of course. Or an SUV which transports their entire entourage. Real fuel efficient, dickfor.

I’m willing to wager that the majority of celebrities don’t understand what global warming is besides the fact that it has to do with the environment and that it’s really trendy to talk about.

I’m pretty sure that global warming does not exist, by the way. I don’t know about you, but I thought last winter was cold as hell. In fact, it just rained in Los Angeles last week. It’s April. You think it would be raining in motherfucking April if the world were heating up? Explain that one to me, Sheryl Crow.

Regardless of whether or not global warming is a reality (unlikely) or an old wives tale cooked up by the bored liberal media, I am sure of one thing: no one is dying, and accordingly, I don’t care. According to my actuary, I have about ten more years to live. I’ll die in my mid-thirties as a result of a hooker-administered drug overdose at the Chateau Marmont hotel in Hollywood. In light of this, I’m pretty sure that global warming does not have any effect on my life. Unless it leads to the world turning into a giant fireball in the next ten years. The odds of the world turning into a giant fireball in the next ten years, according to my actuary, are identical to the odds of me willingly having children, which conveniently leads me to my next point. Since I am not planning on [willingly] having children, I have no connection to anyone who will possibly be affected by this supposed global warming crisis within the next hundred years.

Sometimes you have to look out for number one.

So to recap, I don’t want to hear celebrities talk. About anything. Also, I haven’t blogged in a while and I needed to blog about something but I haven’t gone on a drug binge lately, which explains why this one was weaksauce.

This entry was posted on Friday, April 27th, 2007 at 5:32 pm and is filed under Rants. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.