I remember – not that long ago – when I so looked forward to receiving my copy of National Geographic in the mail. It meant the evening would be spent exploring wondrous places and amazing people, and, if I were lucky, there would be hidden somewhere in the pages of the magical little magazine a picture of some native exposing her bountiful boobs. Ah, those were days!
Then I became educated, and the innocence was destroyed. I learned to my horror that institutions that had been like family – institutions like National Geographic, Newsweek, NBC, World Wildlife Federation, Washington National Cathedral, etc., etc., etc. – weren’t as they appeared. All had a progressive agenda – an agenda I grew to despise with everything in me as I learned more about it.
So, why am I telling you this? Because even though I canceled my subscription to Newsweek, even though I no longer watch NBC, even though I didn’t renew my membership to the World Wildlife Federation and even though I’m no longer a patron of Washington National Cathedral – even having done all those things – I just couldn’t cancel my subscription to National Geographic. The very thought of no longer seeing the wondrous places, amazing people and the occasional boob was just too much to endure.
So, here I am, with a cup of coffee, sitting in my comfortable armchair, with feet up on the ottoman. I say a little prayer as I open the copy of National Geographic that I discovered in my mailbox a couple of hours ago. I pray that this edition not have a political agenda – just beautiful pictures and fascinating stories.
Then I read the “editor’s note”:
“We are accustomed to hearing about catastrophes that change life in an instant – an earthquake, a fire, an explosion. But there is a catastrophe that is playing out in slow motion, measured out over the course of years, decades, and centuries. And it’s happening now.
“The culprit is not so much nature as ourselves. Our catastrophe has to do with dependence on fossil fuels, which has sparked a chain of events that has warmed the atmosphere and oceans and melted glaciers and continental ice shelves, and consequently raised sea levels.”
I won’t go on. You know what follows. I’ll look at the pictures, but I won’t read the articles. If I do, it won’t be the sea level that rises; it will be my blood pressure. So, if you hear this evening a low, mournful sound coming from the direction of Washington, D.C., it’s me letting out a sad sigh as I realize another member of my shrinking family is nothing more than a progressive wolf in sheep’s clothing, exposing an occasional boob.