Greta Mania is sweeping the warming globe!
Greta broke out in song and dance while the planet incinerates. That’s the nihilistic spirit, babe.
1.5 degrees Celsius sounds tiny, insignificant, unworthy of the panic. Small numbers writ exponentially large against the mighty infinitude of the planet’s squared and cubed spatial dimensions spells widespread change and death that defies our puny comprehension. Oh well. Might as well enjoy this glimmer of a lifespan that graces Mother Earth for a quantum fraction of celestial time.
For a while it seemed sour Greta was becoming “Freta” with all her obsessive consternation. Like a little shitfire Atlas, it appeared Freta was expecting to single-handedly shoulder the inevitable and evolutionary fate of the planet’s ecosystem by herself.
Alas, as it does with self-important children, adulthood dawns and unleashes the realization that everything is doomed to utter failure and diminishing death. What more can be done with our mortal, fleeting hands other than to enjoy our last breathing moments of frolic and pretty Nordic boys?