To watch the numbers tick on the World Clock, it seems that healthy lifestyles continue to be coming to an end and now we can see. We can count off each second to the tenth power how much the temperature of the earth is increasing. This information from the United Nations, which is gathering information from every weather station on earth mostly now all on line. So we know when the seas will begin to turn all us coastal folks into members of the I love Venice club, and open our gondola concessions.



But that doesn't solve the problem of all those jets in the sky, that the numbers will double and double again. Soon each rich new Chinese will want to see Paris again. Dear gasping mother earth says take the train, not the plane. So here is our blue pie in the sky vision, we present this to you. If you agree, send a message or three, jets are fueled by kerosine, which is that trail up there that spittles on you and me. So each day you get home, and have been out for a stroll, if the day has been cloudy it may be a jet roll. so have a good shower when you get to home, and light not a candle to your kerosine dome.

Your hair is sprinkled with stardust so kerosine pure, or dirty to be honest, and that is for sure. So here is a plan, that the Economist ran. Sprinkle the globe, with a high tech railroad, under the sea between Siberia to we, and work on your project serene, while the transport gets you from Rio to Rome, or Moscow or Nome, London to Cairo, Johannesburg, up to Istanbul, then zip on back home. Look at a map, and imagine who might object. And work with those factors, and we have a fast track.

China has begun, at which France and Japan have excelled, to fast track trains rather than freeways, which America and Britain have tried. If China chooses the Anglo American vision on this and builds freeways for one billion cars, while they extend their coal burning plants, we will all soon live in a hellish gray skied hot place, in which we all become sicker. China privately admits it is losing perhaps ten percent of it's productivity on sickness and lost time, and this is climbing, as is the global clock temperature chart.

The route is here. Or do we want to be noble, blind, so full of our manifest destiny and sense of being chosen, or that our jihad is more holy than your crusade, or that your ancestry in north Ireland creates in me a need to kill, to revenge that bloody hand. My father did extensive genealogy of our family, nobles, buffoons, and arrogant fools. I had an Irish American mother, but my English Canadian father once told me we were entitled to have in our English coat of arms the bloody hand of English in north Ireland.

I had to ask. It seems that when King James offered that northern quarter of Ireland to which ever English could put their hand on the soil first. And, speaking of fanatics, apparently we have in our blood that one ancestor of mine saw another boat was beating to the beach, he chopped off one hand and threw with great force, and it did land on the beach, which now made it his, and he was in charge. King's Han Chinese hall monitors rules. To you, King James, from both my Irish heart and even my English soul, you should not have made such an intrusive, arrogant law.

And if we need to take a boat to Dublin, or even a non jet clean aircraft from Dublin to London, some how some more English and Moors and Christians and Jews and and blacks in south Africa could at least visit by train. Which would be a healthy change, and mighty refrain. Blue skies, nothing but blue skies, all day long. Is not possible. New coal plants to build. New jets to fly and spray us, coal in our lungs, kerosine in our hair. Do you have sum ting against progress, you did all this, we can too. Oh, where is that train, convert dear Boeing and we can soon tram to Spain. And that is my refrain, I will say again and again.