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Rocket scientists? Not these bobble heads …

Because I hadn’t met my weekly quota of ‘what-are-they-thinking?’ head shaking, I turned on Fox News the other night for giggles and grins.

It didn’t take long to begin my side-to-side head tremors. And there were certainly no giggles and grins (grimacing, maybe).

Some boob predictably railed against the current administration’s perceived anti-business environmental activism. (That jobs, the stock market and consumer optimism are all up in recent months/years were of no apparent concern to this nitwit.)

I've been derelict about recycling this week's trove of trash. Time to get down and dirty.

I’ve been derelict about recycling this week’s trove of trash. Time to get down and dirty.

He didn’t specifically mention global warming, but I’m left to wonder why the bobble heads at Fox don’t cozy up to the folks who are smart for a living: NASA and the Department of Defense.

Both entities have co-joined opinions on global warming; NASA on the here-are-the-cold-facts side and the DOD from the we’d-better-get-planning-for-it perspective. (Maybe our rocket scientists will eventually find truly intelligent life on other orbs. One would think Fox would respect our defense experts for considering the security implications of global warming.)

As you’ve heard (or observed) from me, I don’t claim to be the sharpest knife in the drawer. I’m just a guy who picks up litter and gives a damn about the environmental legacy we’re leaving our children. But my God, if super-smart people are sounding the alarm louder and louder, the deaf ears at Fox News and the equally nit-wittish GOP ought to put aside their collective ideological stupidity and defer to those with bazillions more brain cells.

But the realists among the environmentally concerned don’t likely expect that to happen at Fox. I may not be overly sharp, but their perfectly coifed face-people and other talking heads are a drawer full of truly dull blades.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

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