The Climate War: PG&E and the Making of Lemonade

I have never enjoyed wearing a suit or tie. They’re stiff and uncomfortable and I’m can’t stand sitting still so of course I’m always grabbing at my collar and the like. I’m probably not about to buy homeowner’s insurance from some dipshit in Jams, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t consider it from a fellow in business casual and exposed-though-of-questionable-taste ink.

[Ed.: Idris Elba I’d buy anything from and any cis-hetero guy who says he doesn’t have a crush on at the very least Idris Elba is full of shit. Is the term cis-hetero? What the fuck do I call myself? I’m a cisgender male who is into women. My wife, for example, but like,… Idris. Regardless, all’s I’m saying is I would have accepted no other man for the role of 007 but then the Broccolis said “hold my vodka martini shaken not stirred” and made it a black woman. Too fucking shay. *pretends to drink because he’s dry, pinky out*]

The point is, I don’t trust people in suits. Suits are a mask just like cologne. A suit and tie somehow magically legitimizes whoever’s talking but it’s the same belt they beat their spouse and children with. I know, I know. Not everyone, I know. Some, though.

What’s this got to do with PG&E? The men in the suits rewarded themselves for their false labors, failed to see past the ends of their gated driveways, and people died. My hunch is they want to demoralize us and tire us out by inflicting hardship where none need exist, so I’d like to propose, my fellow congressional delegates, a new national holiday! Ohhhhhh shit you didn’t expect this when you started reading this blog post did you? hahahaha oh man you should see the look on your face

Madam Speaker, this new holiday we shall call The Great American Blackout. One day a year or fuck it let’s be ambitious one day a month, out of sheer fucking defiance and righteous fury, we all pack up a fucking picnic basket or whatever, a portable radio and extra batteries, a portable fuckin solar panel, I don’t give a shit. No one goes to work except essential personnel like hospital peeps and the police and fire peeps and whatever, but the rest of us peace out. We go to the park. We go to the beach. Engage in vigorous physical activity like jai-alai or a local caber toss. Shit, we might just take our umbrellas and go no further than our front yards, waving at our neighbors as they walk by. Make a couple sammies, pack an extra beer for Helen despite her cat constantly shitting in your brand new woodchips but whatever, Helen I’ll just keep picking it all up. All day long we sit and eat and fart and bullshit and to hell with any piece of shit who dare think this kind of punitive behavior is in their best interest.

So. The Great American Blackout. Let’s brainstorm dates. Probably Spring or Fall so the weather would make it more generally pleasant? I don’t know. I’m just some dude on the Internet, but I know one of you reading this is smarter than me and can pick a date. Come on people what have you got?

Anyway the point is, huge corporations like PG&E simply do not give the teensiest tiniest turd about us beyond our value to them as profit centers. I could be wrong but if we all just turned all our shit off a day here or there, wouldn’t that affect profits? I mean I’m right at least in spirit, yeah? Someone loop in Krugman to weigh in on this.

Look. The world is stupid and doesn’t make sense and I’m trying to make sense of it just like you. On this, though, I need you to trust me. We are going to have to work together to find creative ways to make some hard days ahead fun, and the sooner we prepare for them, the easier it’ll be to just say “oh you know what would be fun to do today?” instead of “Dear God what are we going to do?”

This has been brought to you by the letter R and the number 666.

Wade in.