The Truth about Global Warming

For background, go and visit a previous post here.

Here are a couple items I accept as fact.

1.     The earth's temperature has risen about 1 degree F during the last 70 years.

2.     The carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere have risen from about 280 ppm in 1959 to about 380 ppm now.

Most of the "news" that is published on the subject is really just propaganda. Here is where the propagandists run afoul of science. The line of discussion goes something like this:

Carbon dioxide is a greenhouse gas. The greenhouse effect traps heat in Earth's atmosphere. Therefore higher carbon dioxide content is responsible for the increase in Earth's temperature. From there, the propaganda tells us that we "have to do something about it".

This conclusion is probably false. Suppose I showed you a graph correlating beach accidents and ice cream sales. I could show you a strong correlation, but would you believe me if I said that ice cream sales cause beach accidents? I'd hope not. Beach accident rates and ice cream sales  are both explained by sunny weather.

There are unspoken premises in the propaganda on global warming. Propaganda almost always has hidden premises. One is that a warmer earth is "bad". Another is that higher CO2 levels in the atmosphere are "bad". A third premise is that we really can affect global temperature by controlling carbon emissions. I reject these premises as false or likely false, so there's really nothing to discuss.

If the earth's temperature rise isn't caused by atmospheric carbon dioxide, then what is the cause? I think it's probably solar. Apply a little common sense here. If you go to about 40 degrees north (or south) latitude, the weather becomes very seasonal and average temperatures vary widely depending on the season. This variation is entirely solar contribution. Less sunlight reaches the northern hemisphere in winter and the temperature goes down. It really is that simple.

Apply a little more common sense. There is an ice age cycle on Earth with a period of approximately 100,000 years. Furthermore, the atmosphere's carbon dioxide levels  rise after the ice melts. These conclusions are based on studies of sediments and ice cores.

The earth's temperature warms and cools during these cycles.  It's only been about two hundred centuries since the last ice age, and it wouldn't surprise me if the glaciers are still melting. Why do I think this? The ocean keeps rising a few inches every hundred years.

And what's causing carbon dioxide levels to rise? Nobody really knows. It's so easy to point to the combustion of fossil fuels, but that wouldn't explain previous incidents, would it? About all we know is that CO2 levels have risen before, and there's not a compelling reason to think "this time is different."  The sun can cause higher CO2 levels. More heat from the sun will cause carbon dioxide to desorb from the earth. There could also be a volcanic component to it.

Once again, I'll tell you the truth about Global Warming and the greenhouse effect.

We couldn't live without it.

Above: We went out for a picnic in the Carpathian mountains. We hunted for mushrooms and drank some vodka. Our location here is just a few kilometers from Hungary. The Hungarian Carpathians are where Harker went to meet Count Dracula in Bram Stoker's original work.

Pine Femiron 58

Ghost Busting at the Funeral Home

I once served in a funeral home as an after-hours steward. I answered phones, set up the chapel, and cleaned  floors after funerals. To do my job, I had to live there. My bedroom was a converted viewing room in the building's lower level. The room had no windows. I never slept in a darker place.

My bed lay in the place designed for caskets, beneath two colored floodlights. One light had a yellow lens and the other one had a pink lens. During wakes and funerals these lights were focused on the faces of corpses, making the paraffin flesh tone of the deceased appear more natural.

One night, I woke amidst a pink glow. For some reason, the colored floodlights were on. The lights seemed harmless. Maybe it was a dream. Too tired to care, I fell back to sleep and forgot it. A few nights later, it happened again.

I awakened in the glow of the pink floodlight. Seconds later, the yellow floodlight blinked once and joined it. Disbelieving at first and then shocked to full consciousness, I thought back on the time I went to bed. Were the lights off? Yes, I clearly remembered walking to my bed in pitch black. How did these lights come on? Ghosts? My heart pounded.

Was anyone else in the building that night? No. No doorbells, no phone calls, nothing. Was I sure? Did I lock the doors? Yes. Yes I did. As I thought these thoughts, the floodlights dimmed, and then went out. Pitch black again. Jesus!

I lay in bed on my back, unable to sleep and unwilling to move. It took several minutes to calm down. All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind. I tried to banish the idea of ghosts. The harder I tried, the more I obsessed about it. This made me angry. Then too, I was curious. How did the lights come on? Why me? Was this even real? Was I dreaming?

Wide-awake with no prospects for sleep, I got out of bed, and crept toward the door. Feeling my way along the wall, I found the light switch. The lights in that room operated by variable dimmers. I pushed the switch inward and dialed the main lights so I could see. Then I dressed and stepped out into the hall. Next, I did a perimeter check, testing each entry point of the building. Every door was locked. I searched each room, even the embalming room, and listened. I heard no rustling sounds or footsteps. There was no sign of any intruder. I really was alone.

Searching the place calmed me, and I became more curious than frightened. What made those colored floodlights come on? Suppose I disconnected them, or took the bulbs out? Would they light up again spontaneously? Suppose I just lay on my back and stared at them. Would they come on again?

Back in the bedroom, I began to investigate. I dialed up the main lights so I could see, and then I pushed in on the switch for the colored lights. Nothing.

That was odd. Those colored lights should have come on. I dialed the dimmer switch for the colored floodlights. Nothing. How could this happen? Those lights were on by themselves not half an hour before. Now I couldn’t turn them on! My heart pounded anew.

Fear crowded out all rational thought. Why was this happening? Why me? Why did I have to face this problem alone in the dark in the middle of the night? Why did I take this job? What would happen next?

Convinced me that something evil would happen, somehow I lapsed into rational thought. What’s the worst that could happen? I could die, or maybe go insane. What’s so bad about that? I took a deep breath and exhaled. Okay. I wasn’t dead. I wouldn’t know if I was insane, would I?

I pushed in on the colored floodlight switch. They came on! I dialed the dimmer switch. They faded. I pushed in on the switch again, and the lights went off.

Wait!

If I just turned the lights on, then they were off before. That means that when I first tried to turn them on, I was really turning the colored lights off. If they were on, then why weren’t they lit?

Oh. The dimmer dial. It must have been all the way down.

So there it was. I could turn the colored floodlights off by dialing down the dimmer. The lights would go off, but they wouldn’t stay off. Variations in line voltage were enough to evoke a faint glow. That glow was more than enough to break the blackness of that bedroom. In the end, I was pleased with myself for figuring out the mystery, but disappointed that I let myself get so scared.

So, there were no ghosts behind the funeral home's floodlights. Part of me hoped to see a real ghost some time. That hope, I just cannot explain.

The End

Pine Femiron 58

[Story so far: While Pine and Fir go to get wallpaper, Spruce continues to work. Juniper awaits a chance...]

Part Thirteen

Juniper continued to fake tranquilized sleep, while Pine and Fir went out to get wallpaper. When they exited, she glimpsed the outhouse through the open door. The very sight of it made her bladder ache.

Meanwhile, Spruce continued to paint blood on the kitchen walls. She could hear him, but he was out of view. How could she sneak to the outhouse without alerting Spruce?

While Juniper pondered her dilemma, Spruce went over to the kitchen sink and rinsed off his corncob. The sound of rushing water made her need seem worse. Opening her eyes further, she noticed a dead woman in the kitchen with her neck severed, slumped over a chair.

At the sight of a corpse, blood on the floor, and Spruce’s naked buttocks, Juniper stifled an urge to vomit. Suppressing her gag, of course, put unneeded pressure on her bladder. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.

After interminable seconds, Spruce turned off the water. From what Juniper could surmise of his footsteps, and other noises, he had resumed painting. She opened her eyes again. Yes, he was out of view. She waited.

Down the hallway, she heard another noise.

"Yewww."

A cat! A cat locked behind a door. In a bathroom, maybe? Or perhaps in a bedroom?

"Yee-wwwwwwww."

Spruce stopped painting. "Okay, okay. I’ll feed you."

Eyes nearly closed, Juniper saw Spruce get something out of a cabinet. She heard the click-grind-grind noise of a can opener. In a few seconds, she smelled fish. Spruce came into the living room holding a dish, and then looked at Juniper.

Her heart sank. He walked toward her. Stay still, she thought. Stay absolutely still. Spruce stood in front of her, cat’s dish in one hand. With his other hand, he reached down, put fingers on her neck feeling, feeling, feeling about.

Involuntarily, Juniper shuddered at his touch and then recovered. She kept her eyes closed.

"Yee-wwwwwwwww."

Spruce pulled his hand back and walked away with the food dish. He opened a door and walked up several stairs.

"Yee-wwwwwwwww."

Wasting no time, Juniper rose, gathered her dress up in her hands, and padded across the kitchen. Gritting her teeth when she stepped in blood and doing her best not to gag at the sight of the corpse, she made her way to the outside door.

Quietly as she could, she opened the door, stepped out, and then closed it. There it was! The outhouse, just a few paces away and its doorway gaped wide open.

With her bladder practically bursting from pressure, Juniper dashed for the outhouse, lifted her dress, bared her buttocks, and sat on the right hand toilet seat.

She let loose to the feeling of relief, blessed relief. Shuddering atop the toilet seat, Juniper breathed a long sigh and let her face sink into her hands. Automatically, she reached over and pushed down on the flush lever.

Beneath her, the Destroilet roared to life. She looked up at the wall, and saw a label:

    Warning! Stand Clear When Flushing.

Too late. Suction from the flame’s draft pulled at Juniper. She shrieked and struggled against the force. Though she held out for several seconds… flop! Her body jackknifed, and she slipped fanny first into the roaring toilet hole.

* * *