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Thursday, June 6, 2013

Things Environmental


Cral Zombo, the co-star of Headley and the Rug (and Cral) loves the Seuss story, The Lorax. He’s even memorized the book. Here’s the cartoon version.

I have my own environmental paean (That means song, right? For some reason it sounds dirty to me. Pee – on maybe.) I wrote the tune myself (big mistake.) It sounds like cows trying to milk themselves with violin bows.
How would I know what that sounds like? C’mon, it’s not like I’ve never been to Vermont.

Look at Them

I don’t recycle, and I eat veal

But I hate those Eskimos who kill baby seals

Don’t look at me - Don’t look at we

Look at them


Yeah, I may litter, don’t call me slob

To clean up this street must be somebody’s job

Don’t look at me - Don’t look at we

Look at them
I live my life the way it’s easy for me

Avoiding every re-sponsibility

The earth is trashed and I think it’s a shame

But don’t you go and try to saddle me with any blame


My car is far, from toxin free

But check out the driver in that damn SUV

Don’t look at me - Don’t look at we

Look at them


I throw my motor oil, out in the ditch

But the president of Exxon is one son-of-a …

Don’t look at me - Don’t look at we

Look at them
bridges – get it?
It ain’t a dog’s life, if you’re a wolf pup

I blame the fat cats, who screwed it all up

But to the Hutsi tribesman, half-blind toothless and lame

The fat cat and me are one and the same

I’m just one guy, it’s hard to see

How world wide problems can be traced back to me

Don’t look at me - Don’t look at we

Look at them

An average Joe, with average crimes

Multiplied by population seven billion one hundred and thirteen million, four hundred and seventy-three thousand, eight hundred and twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five… thirty-eight times

Hey, look at me - Hey, look at we

We are… them

I won’t comment on rumors that Dow Chemical is keeping Tinkerbelle in an underground testing facility in Delaware, or that the Sierra Club is plotting with extra-terrestrials to transmogrify the Republican leadership of the House into economy-sized bags of Pampers. It’s not my intention to get political here.

My point is this:

If you’re a 50, 60, or 70-something that waxes nostalgic for the days of peace, love, dope and environmental awareness, and you don’t recycle your water bottles (or like a church I know, throw your unused paper bulletins into the regular trash,) you’re not being a 2 syllable word that begins with H-I-P, you’re being a 3 syllable word that begins with H-Y-P.