There’s No Hypocrite Like A Rich, Jet-Setting Anti-Global-Warming Activist

Today’s text is from the Gospel of Matthew, KJV: Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchers, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.

Every issue has its hypocrites, those who preach the cause but act its opposite.

But there is no issue on this orbiting Earth, nor has there ever been, that has the burden and depth, the volume and intensity of the rawest hypocrisy — that burns on the flames of hypocrisy itself — as that of global warming.

The hypocrisy of politicians is as a bead of sand, a pimple in the shadow of Everest compared to the hollow, fake piety of the mega-rich and famous gospellers of global warming.

Those howling loudest at people to use public transport — “for the planet’s sake” — should not, per exemplum, own $400-million yachts, travel themselves by private jet, have a dozen vast mansions in a dozen countries, and hold suppers that cost $100,000 in ancient Greek temples.

But they do. Check out the Google Summer Camp.

This week the richest of the rich, the famousest of the famous, the most pretentious of the pretentious, convened a three-day summit in a high-luxury resort on the island of Sicily to — discuss? bemoan? illustrate? — the crisis of climate inflammation wrought by fiendish fossil fuels.

It was sponsored by the two founders of Google (personal worth, 2017, US$81 billion).

The chosen ones gathered to save us all from a humid world was a rare mix, including Woody Harrelson, Diane von Furstenberg, David Geffen, Chris Martin,  Leonardo DiCaprio (discoverer of the Chinook), Sacha Baron Cohen, Orlando Bloom, Katy Perry, Prince Harry and a clutch of egotist billionaires and trendoids too numerous to list.

How do I save thee (Earth)? Let me count the ways.

How did this coven of Illuminati get to Sicily? Did they walk and row? Come by Greyhound? Hitchhike? Nein. The official count of the private jets wafting into Palermo air for the “great consult” stands at 114.

This for a maximum of 300 people attending — three persons per jet.

Not all came from the carbon-rich sky. Some came by personal super-yacht.

Eric Smidt, CEO of something called Harbor Freight Tools, came on a 69-meter luxury barge Intrepid (US$150 million); a New Zealand tycoon cleaved the Mediterranean on Andromeda ($US165 million); David Geffen floated in on Rising Sun ($US400 million).

These are not self-propelling bathtub toys. Outside of aircraft carriers and (“hi, irony”) supertankers, none want oil more. Super-yachts are vultures, gluttonous for fossil fuels.

They can be rivaled only by the excesses of private jets flying thousands of miles to hold meetings to persuade the poor of the world to cut down on the consumption of fossil fuels.

It is impossible not to mock this. Al Gore selling his failed cable-television network to Kuwait for USD $300 million (originally purchased for US$12 million) was but a bend in the road compared to this full-on racetrack of hypocrisy.

Jonathan Swift, resurrected to satirize “Google Camp,” would look on this and return to his crypt, dejected, despairing, and defeated.

A few highlights. It is reported that Prince Harry gave a “barefoot speech.” This is strange. In my experience speeches don’t even have feet.

I expect what was meant was that Harry was barefoot when he gave a speech, though how that supplemented his faltering eloquence is difficult to discern.

Unless going Tom Sawyer or Robinson Crusoe while staying at a $2,000-a-night resort gave the russet prince and fellow Googleites a frisson.

The world-savers rented the Temple of Hera (goddess of childbirth, the scourge of mistresses — you can Google it) in the 2,500-year-old Valley of the Temples for an evening meal (US$100,000).

Not everyone can light up a UNESCO World Heritage site for a private supper while being yodeled at by a pop star.

What, I wonder, did they have for breakfast? Faberge eggs on nightingale tongues? For a little sightseeing, high-fuel, 200-grand Maseratis were available for all.

To their credit there were no plastic straws — silver tubes embroidered with diamonds is my guess.

I reckon this high-class global warming missionary retreat wiped out in a mere three days the presumed benefits of Canada’s useless carbon tax.

Ten such summits and the Earth will barrel into the Sun: not from overheating — from the perfect embarrassment that it shelters such a band of plutocratic Uriah Heeps.

It comes down to this. Those who most harangue and harass the rest of us on our “carbon” usage are the greatest wastrels of all.

They own numerous mansions, live in palaces (Harry), travel on private jets and yachts the size of Sweden, burn money by the bucket load, and toss more of those fatal carbon emissions into the air than any single person since Saddam Hussein set fire to the oilfields at the end of the Gulf War.

The great maxim of Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit, was never more richly illustrated: “I’ll believe that it’s a crisis when the people who claim it’s a crisis start acting like it’s a crisis.”

The motto for Google Camp: Hypocrisy, thy name is global warming. “Whited sepulchers” is too kind.

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