It’s not just the energies that are fossil, the liquefied dinosaurs with their ferns circulate in the hardened veins of atrophied brains. As if an energetic Fitzgibbon weren’t enough, here we are flanked by an Ahmed al-Jaber at COP28.
It’s been a few decades that we have been living in a delusional era that is turning more and more into a funnel on the head. We had the doctors in power who completed the health system at the limit of social Darwinism, we now have wheeler-dealers who mask their continuity of growth under the term “transition” to show us that at the end of the pipeline line up salads.
The world looks more and more like a quilt, where each piece is cut from the others into pieces of initiatives that cancel each other out. You’re driving your little electric car with the pride of a volt aware of its transient appearance when a fat thermal 4×4 splashes you, spitting up an old stench of gasoline in its path. It takes some courage not to feel undone.
From identity left to bleeding Nazi, from chaotic Republican to tournedos Democrat, we place vegan glasses on the slimy glow of a petrol steak.
But we can pride ourselves on a certain connivance with nature, our dry hearts extend the deserts when our crocodile tears inspire increasingly biblical deluges, to the point of considering the resurrection of the tyrannosaurus as the savior of an oil-rich eschatology which announces the considerable expansion of a well-known fast-shearing mammal.
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