Despite being part of a homogeneous hive-like social media collective centered around virtue-signaling over the pressing issues of COVID-19, Ukraine and the environmental dangers of gas stoves, I am actually an extremely nuanced, multifaceted being who is capable of deep thoughts and feelings. Like my hero Greta Thunberg, I express this through my pronouns, activism, and constant outrage.

Why am I telling you all this exactly? It’s so you fully appreciate the absolute truth-bomb I’m about to drop, and acknowledge that such an explosive idea could only be detonated by a Big Brain like mine. Y’all ready?

Trans-Weather Conversion – What Could Go Wrong?

Weather changing technology should be utilized to artificially create natural disasters so that folx begin to take climate change more seriously.

Could this be incorrectly construed as eco-terrorism? Perhaps. But it is for the Greater Good of humanity and our planet. The technology is already in use here in the US and fully approved by many proto-fachist developing nations. Anyone who opposes the idea must be labeled a crazy conspiracy theorist who is threatening not only Our Democracy, but the future of the humxn race.

The simple truth is: the climate is not changing fast enough for the effects of climate change to be truly seen and appreciated. Too many folx are pointing towards this as evidence that climate change is “fake” or a “scam.” Donate money to my donarbox and become a paid subscriber to learn more about how these climate change denying chuds are just right-wing grifters out to steal your hard-earned cash.

The idea of using weather changing technology to raise climate change awareness came to me the other day whilst I was gluing my face to a Vincent Van Gogh self-portrait. 

Myself and my working class brethren, sistren and otheren Moonbeam, Tarquin and Osbourne-Spencer Maxwell-Silverspoon III had bravely scaled the impenetrable steps of the local museum, all with the express purpose of protesting climate change and bringing awareness to the extremely pressing issue.

Whilst my friends were busy taking selfies with the museum guards (not as a distraction, they actually let us walk right in, without noticing our Just Stop Oil shirts and buckets of glue and paint), I got right to work on throwing paint around with reckless abandon, before smearing the side of my face with superglue and smushing it against the nearest pane of protective glass.

“Our planet is dying,” I breathlessly squealed at an apathetic passerby, flailing my legs out at them to get their attention as the glue began to peel my N95 away from my face. “Frak, no–!” I slammed my face against the glass to stop my mask from falling off. Van Gogh’s sour, judging, maskless face stared back at me through the glass. It was as though he was peering directly into my soul. I believe I found a kindred spirit in Vincent, not just because he was a fellow ginger, but because he was also a talented artist consumed with thoughts of suicide and self-mutilation.

VAN GOGHING FOR THE EAR OF THE PEOPLX

Hours passed and there was no sign of my brave comrades. No doubt they had been hauled off by some burly, racist, white security guard, and were sweating under a heat lamp as the police interrogated them in some back room that had never been furnished!! Yes, that must be what happened. Surely they hadn’t just left me here with my face glued to a painting as some sort of cruel prank or horrible revenge plot for calling the police on them during lockdown when Moonbeam had folx in her garden to do a gender reveal party for her latest abortion.

My face, still tightly pressed up against the glass, was in quite a bit of pain at this point, and the MAGA chuds who had stopped to snigger and take selfies with me in the background weren’t helping, either. To take my mind off the crippling embarrassment and facial paralysis I was now feeling, I began to formulate the genius plan I mentioned earlier. If my stunning peaceful protest wasn’t going to change the hearts and minds of chuds on climate change, then we would have to change the climate itself to better portray how dangerous and scary climate change really is, according to scientist and celebrity predictions.

Weather changing technology would be a great way to go about achieving this. I’m not talking about standard alt-right, Flat Mooner conspiracy garbage like chemtrails, which are 1000% made up – but actual reality-based, science like cloud seeding and firing frickin laser beams into storms to prevent them from turning into hurricanes.

We could harness the power of hurricanes to decimate the entire State of Florida, or unleash a never ending monsoon over Texas through massive amounts of cloud seeding. The MAGA Qrowd would be forced to confront the fact that their bigoted beliefs about climate change had finally caught up with them and that this is their GOD DOES NOT EXIST reckoning. The accumulated filth of all their bigotry and misinformation will foam up about their waists as all the Trumpers and anti-vaxxers look up at St.Greta and Prince Leo in their solar powered hover car and shout “SAVE US”… and she will look down and whisper in a twisted accent:“No.”

I closed my eyes and let out a soft “heh” to myself, a small smirk curling underneath my mask as I imagined it all playing out. When I opened my eyes, the lights in the museum had been shut off. I was in total darkness. I must have dozed off whilst coming up with my evil plan – I mean harmless hypothesis, and the chud security guards must not have noticed me during their final checks! I screamed and yelled for help until my lungs were raw, but alas, no one came. It wasn’t until the next morning when the museum curator came in and chiseled my face free that I realized I had soiled myself, quite badly. 

“That was part of the protest,” I angrily blurted out at the bemused curator, before making awkward eye contact with the janitor behind him, “It’s symbolic of how people are using this planet as a toilet … now clean it up!”

TRAILS OF A TRUTHER

With my head held high and a fresh pair of panties from lost and found cradling my crusty buttocks, I strutted out of the museum and gazed up at the bright blue sky, with planes highlighting a grim harbinger of climate change.

It had been raining yesterday, but now the sun was out and the only disturbance in the sky were jet contrails (totally not chemtrails) left by planes flying overhead – hopefully carrying our elite climate delegates on their way to Davos and not a bunch of gas stove using peasants going on holiday.