Crikey's Bernard Keane has finally given up on commentating on the progress of our laughably ineffective proposed carbon emissions trading scheme (aka the CPRS), something I did a long time ago - I'm sick of the CPRS. To hell with you all. . Ditch the whole thing and implement a carbon tax says I, droning on like a broken record year after year.
I don't know about you (no, really, I don't) but I'm utterly over the CPRS debate. It's been a long road since early last year, when Penny Wong blithely called the Garnaut Review "one input" into the Government's consideration, in effect spilling the beans, or giving the game away, or belling the cat, or whatever cliché takes your fancy. I'm now sick of emissions trading. Sick of Wong's tedious droning, of Kevin Rudd's sanctimony, of the Coalition climate denialists who make a virtue out of their own intellectual and emotional disabilities.
I'm sick of Barnaby Joyce and the National Party, so plum-stupid that they can't even understand when the National Farmers Federation tells them it'd be a good idea to back the scheme. I'm sick of the rentseekers, the whingers, the sooks and Hookes, who preach the virtues of the market when it suits them but whose natural posture is of a hand stuck out, demanding assistance, and assistance in ever greater quantities, like blackmailers who just keep coming back for more.
And I'm sick of the media and their inability to understand what's going on or their blatant support of denialists as part of an infantile ideological game. I'm fed up with ever more iterations of the CPRS that seek to obliterate, like an artillery shell aimed at an ant, any skerrick of carbon price signal, which is the only damn point of the entire exercise beyond the political gamesmanship of Kevin Rudd and Nick Minchin.
I'm sick, above all, of the vast gap between the farce being played out before our eyes and the real human and economic consequences of failing to stop the planet cooking, consequences I probably won't see the worst of, but which my kids will.
Fortunately they and all the future generations who'll really enjoy the fruits of out stupidity don't get to vote now.
So I'm giving this elaborate production, this whole, interminable, mind-numbingly banal show, zero.
Let us hope that decades hence, the descendants of our current MPs -- I mean their political descendants, not their actual kids, assuming the major parties don't adopt preselection by hereditary right -- will not have to stand up in the Great Hall and apologise for it. Apologise to the people who died of dengue fever or in bushfires, apologise to the families of the elderly who succumbed to heatwaves. Apologise to the tourism employees who lost their jobs when our great reefs died. Apologise to the farmers forced off the land as the Murray-Darling dried up. Sorry, dried up even more.
Apologise to the whole community because of all the economic opportunities we missed by locking our economy into some sort of carbon-era cryogenic freeze when we could have started the transition to the low-carbon economy that we will need to be in the future, now.
Hell, they may even apologise to all those foreigners who will die in far greater numbers than Australians because of the actions of developed countries like ours, one of the world's premier carbon dealers on a planet unable to kick its addiction to the stuff.
Hysterical? Alarmist? Green religionist? If only. I'd give anything to see the Andrew Bolts and Barnaby Joyces of the world proved correct, to be shown that the whole thing is a left-wing con, the ultimate scam cooked up (ha!) by some lazy academics and watermelon greenies who accomplished what millennia of Illuminati and weird hand-shaking Masons and sinister religious orders failed to do -- fool the world with a global conspiracy.
Because that's the only basis on which our international position and the CPRS make any sense.