Hit by a bomb

On Tuesday, the island where I live, along with Vancouver Island and the other Gulf Islands were hit by a bomb cyclone. The winds were ferocious, the waves were huge. The power went out.

I’d never heard of a bomb cyclone a week ago until warnings began to be issued. Just as I’d never heard of a heat dome until shortly before much of British Columbia was hit by one two or three summers ago. Nor had I heard of an atmospheric river until one dumped on the province, taking out highways and drowning cows in fields.

While people on this island waited for their power to be restored (mine came back last night, others are still waiting) world governments were meeting in Azerbaijan (where the government apparently used hosting COP29 to detain environmental activists) to say much and do nothing about the climate crisis responsible for these events. Don’t get me started on Saudi Arabia or on how much worse it will be when the Tangerine Wankmaggot is back in the White House.

Meanwhile, island states are looking at being wiped off the map.

Do none of these so-called negotiators have children? Grandchildren? Or do they simply not give a damn?

Do they have no conscience whatsoever? Apparently not.

One cannot help but despair.