The Wine-Dark Whheeeeeeeee

CASSANDRA: They call me crazy, like a fortune-teller,
A poor starved beggar-woman - and I bore it!
And now the prophet undoing his prophetess
Has brought me to this final darkness.
Instead of my father's altar the executioner's block
Waits me the victim, red with my hot blood.
I will go in and have the courage to die.
Look, these gates are the gates of Death.
I greet them, and pray that I may meet a
Deft and mortal stroke so that I may close my
Eyes as my blood ebbs in an easy death.

-from Agamemnon

Environmental Cassandras must be careful with their predictions lest they commit what climate alarmists consider the unpardonable faux pas of denying that the world is coming to an end.

-George F. Will

I actually have some sympathy for Will on this issue, not so much because I deny human-catalyzed climate change (I do not), but because I percieve the potential catastrophe as being a fine, fitting, and poetic means of reducing our numbers, and therefore wish that everyone would shuddupaboudit so that Motherfucking Nature might have her just revenge. That said, would it kill our columnist to read before making popular reference? The thing about Cassandra's predictions, you see: they were right.