The Hullahoo Bar friends are reuniting after the holidays for their Labor Day Drink, starting with the hottest subject of the day.
“I say ‘No to Climate Change’ but ‘Change the Climate,’ Frank starts. “I want to stop the sun from turning back on June 21. Already it’s going dark.”
“And stop the hurricanes,” Fred adds. “They all come from Africa. Terrorists must be brewing them in the Sahara.”
“The President was overheard saying ‘Nuke them’,” Melissa says, smirking.
“That’s been tried before,” Tom says. “Navy planes started it in the 1950s. As of the sixties they flew into hurricane eyes and spread the walls with silver iodide. They called it ‘Project Stormfury’.”
Credits: Photo: U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA Photo Library – Text Project Stormfury: Richard Schwartz – “Great Hurricanes of the South East Coast” – work in progress. See also Rick Schwartz https://www.amazon.com/Hurricanes-Middle-Atlantic-States-Schwartz/dp/0978628004 –
“Sorry, Tom,” Mary interjects, “but I wasn’t good at chemistry in high school. What’s that stuff?”
“A yellow powder that makes rain,” Tom explains. “They did it with Hurricane Beula in 1963. The eyewalls began to fall apart and the winds fell by twenty percent.”
“So why aren’t they doing that today?” Cindy asked.
“Because Cuba’s Fidel Castro complained in 1963 that the U.S. weaponized the hurricanes to hit them,” Tom says. “And when they tried it in the Pacific in the seventies, China made a similar complaint. So ‘Project Stormfury’ ended in the eighties after millions spent. But the Hurricane Research Division in Miami is continuing research with planes that fly into the eyes, as they did with ‘Katrina’.”
“At what cost?” Cindy asked.
“In the order of twelve million a year,” Tom answers. “But that may also include other things. I’m sure they’re in Dorian already.”
“Well, given today’s billions of trade wars with China, they should start that again in the Pacific. Cheaper than fighting with tariffs,” Fred opines.
“But what help is this research?” wonders Ted. “It still doesn’t stop these hurricanes once they’re in the air. We must stop them from flying off in the Sahara. It’s terrorism, stupid.”
“Plant trees in the Sahara,” Melissa suggests. “Trees make clouds and rain. Drill for water in those dried-up lake beds they discovered instead of oil.”
“Who owns the Sahara?” Mary asks, scoffing. “Some eight countries if I remember well, all troublesome and full of terrorists. Good luck with your project.”
“Suppose we send Bernie and Pocahontas with their climate plans to the terrorists?” Fred offers. “Maybe they can persuade them with Democrat money to plant trees instead of bombing us.”
“It’s that copper bully in the sky that pulls earth’s orbit closer to its chest,” Frank claims. “Ever had a sunburn at the beach? Well, in a few years we’ll all get scorched. We must steer Mother Earth away from Bully The Sun.”
“Do these Green Deal people know who steers Earth?” Cindy asks. “It looks we’re heading for a big collision the way you describe it. The Bible says somewhere that the elements of earth will be destroyed by fire.”
“Right, we better find out how to steer Earth,” Mary says. “You see what happens with these driverless cars. They run into people and street lights, causing fire.”
“That’s exactly what that Green Deal does,” says Frank. “And they’re not insured.”
“I have a better idea,” Fred says. “Let’s turn these hurricanes back to Africa. That’s what those Green Deal people should put their trillions on. Let them drop all that water on the Sahara instead and plant trees.”
“AOC!” Mary suggests. “Stands for ‘Assault Our Climate.’ Let’s start breezing hard to blow Dorian away from the coast and back to where it came from.”
“That’s racist!” Melissa hollered.
“So is my Bourbon,” yells Frank. “Cheers!”
Francine: Dazzling Daughter of the Mountain State 1st Edition
It’s bar time again for THE FRIENDS. Fred, Frank, Tom, and Ted settle down at their usual spots in the Hullahoo Bar. Cindy, Mary, Melissa, and Celine are joining them, all talking about the unending dog fights in Washington politics.
“Gee, man,” sighs Ted. “The Report is out. No collusion, no proof of obstruction. What a relief.”
“And that after two years of trying to prove the opposite,” Melissa says. “That guy Schiff stands with his pants down, and so does the so-called mainstream media. Now they can put the Roseanne Barr show back on.”
“Hah,” Mary scoffs. “And Jeanine Pirro’s, too. Why the heck did Fox drop her? They’re becoming like CNN.”
“Why waste your time looking at Roseanne or Jeanine?” Cindy says, sipping her white wine. “Just watch Congress. Same show, cheaper too.”
“Or those late-night comics,” Frank says. “All Trump haters. So boring. Puts you to sleep but at least gives you time to make love instead.”
“Doesn’t matter what side you are on,” Tom says. “When one side gets President, the other side tears him down.”
“The American way,” Celine affirms. “Like in the cowboy movies. The new sheriff must keep order, so the bad guys go after him.”
“It has gotten a lot worse with Social Media,” Mary proffers. “Everybody is yelling from their basements hitting away on their computers or smartphones, saying things they would never say if they sat in front of those who they are yelling at.”
“My brother, who votes Republican, tells me he’s sleeping in a different room because his wife is dreaming aloud, screaming ‘I hate Trump,'” Melissa says.
“Any Republican here, hands up?” shouts Frank.
No hands show.
“Any Democrat here?” shouts Fred.
No hands show.
“Come on!” Tom says. “You’re all Independents?”
Melissa raises her thumb one inch and says, “You’re all afraid of the Green Police hearing you!”
“Oh, yeah,” Cindy says, laughing. “That media darling with the too red lips and double name everybody had difficulty pronouncing, so they made her into an acronym.”
“Is that so, there’s a Green Police already?” Mary asks, looking worried.
“It’s part of the fine print of the New Green Deal,” Melissa says. “That’s what you’d get if you vote socialism.”
“Why can’t these people leave us alone?” Ted wonders aloud. “Why’s everybody always fighting each other? Dogs fight, cats fight, birds fight, roosters fight, deer fight, ants fight, humans fight, why can’t we have peace? Don’t we all have a good time now?”
“Because peace is boring, buddy,” Fred says. “A peace book does not sell, a killer book does. Same with movies. Welcome to Planet Earth.”
“Same with those politicians. Always fighting while saying ‘my friend,'” Tom says. “I remember Joe Biden boasting he’d take Trump outside the gym to beat him up. I’m afraid six-foot-two Trump heavyweight would take him by the scruff of his neck and hang him on the coat rack.”
“It’s the bully mindset in us humans,” Celine philosophizes. “There are always those who want to control others, regardless. AOC wants to be the boss, you heard that?”
“We need stronger anti-bullying laws,” suggests Mary.
“Hah, works like gun laws,” sneers Frank. “You’ll soon see that not all anti-bullying laws are equal. They won’t apply to people like AOC.”
“She and Bernie want a seventy percent tax rate,” Tom says, looking scared. “They never learn. Bernie may not remember he had to take his own toilet paper to a restroom in Moskou on his honeymoon because the city ran out of tax money and no taxpayer had any money left.”
“How come all these brilliant Millenials just from school yearn for socialism when capitalism is there for everyone to see it works?” Fred wonders. “Do they know what socialism means? Free goods without freedom and soon misery for all.”
“I’m afraid that’s where we’re heading,” Cindy says. “They have to learn the hard way. Looking at Venezuela on TV is not hard enough. They have to live through it to find out how bad it is.”
“At least the Report puts an end to the collusion hoax,” remarks Melissa. “Did anybody ever ask why a freedom-loving billionaire businessman would ask a communist dictator help him get elected president of a democratic US of A?”
“Fair point, Melissa,” says Frank. “Ask Bernie that question. You get a free beer from me. Cheers everyone!”