'Finally, it is essential that intellectual integrity be restored to the scientific profession. Too much money has been devoted to funding global warming scientists, who have depended for their livelihood on a high level of public and political anxiety about global warming, and have hence tended to suppress the evidence against the popular hysteria. .... Enlightenment standards of scientific integrity have been subverted by government cash and media hysteria. For the sake of all our futures this must never be allowed to happen again.'
Martin Hutchinson, http://www.tbwns.com/2015/07/20/the-bears-lair-global-warming-hysteria-one-huge-ghastly-mistake/

Climate-culture: poems and other literary efforts on the Great Climate Scare and Scarers

Last update: 22 March 2016

#2016 March:  a poem written by Clive James, published in the New Statesman

Imminent Catastrophe


The imminent catastrophe goes on
Not showing many signs of happening.
The ice at the North Pole that should be gone
By now, is awkwardly still lingering,

And though sometimes the weather is extreme
It seems no more so than when we were young
Who soon will hear no more of this grim theme
Reiterated in the special tongue
 
Of manufactured fright. Sea Level Rise
Will be here soon and could do such-and-such,
Say tenured pundits with unblinking eyes.
Continuing to not go up by much,
 
The sea supports the sceptics, but they, too,
Lapse into oratory when they predict
The sure collapse of the alarmist view
Like a house of cards, for they could not have picked
 
A metaphor less suited to their wish.
A house of cards subsides with just a sigh
And all the cards are still there. Feverish
Talk of apocalypse might, by and by,
 
Die down, but the deep anguish will persist.
His death, and not the Earth’s, is the true fear
That motivates the doomsday fantasist:
There can be no world if he is not here.




#2015 December.  A comment posted at Bishop-Hill: http://www.bishop-hill.net/blog/2015/12/18/we-forgot-the-geography.html
The smell of intellectual rot
Does not bother the BMJ
Nor any other 'Climate Trot'
Going on their dismal way
What matters most is saving face
When wishing to be prescient
Admitting error is such disgrace
When you claim to be omniscient
So any guff is good enough
To get through an anxious moment
After all who reads this stuff
That isn't in the movement?
A troublesome cleric, I hear you cry,
A man to truth beholden!
Oh who will help us cope with someone quite so pesky
For his un-Godleeness is well-known?
But I fear there's no one there
Who can match him with his logic
Oh how unfair that our cause is bare
Of anyone not a dipstick!
So let us skulk, and steer away
From public confrontation
For if that public heard him say
Some words of condemnation
We'd have a somewhat reduced chance of generous grants and/or virtue-signalling sessions.



#2015 October.  Another punchy, lively song from the Minnesotans:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYkb85XubbI


(hat-tip: Jo Nova)


#2015 August.  On the occasion of the release of a new book by Mark Steyn, one illustrated bv the great Josh, a commenter at WUWT wrote this:





I wrote this a few years back. Truth ages well.
MICHAEL MANN –THE HOCKEY STICK
There was a crooked Mann
Who played a crooked trick
And had a crooked plan
To make a crooked stick
By using crooked math
That favored crooked lines
Lysenko’s crooked path
Led thru the crooked pines
And all his crooked friends
Applaud what crooked seems
But all that crooked ends
Derives from crooked means
Eugene WR Gallun
Hey, Steyn, yours to use as you want if you decide
your next volume could use a little poetry in it.

  • And you may also use this if you think it will advance “the cause”.8-)
    Stopping by Yamal One Snowy Evening
    What tree this is, I think I know.
    It grew in Yamal some time ago.
    Yamal 06 I’m placing here
    In hopes a hockey stick will grow.
    But McIntyre did think it queer
    No tree, the stick did disappear!
    Desparate measures I did take
    To make that stick reappear.
    There were some corings from a lake.
    And other data I could bake.
    I’ll tweek my model more until
    Another hockey stick I’ll make!
    I changed a line into a hill!
    I can’t say how I was thrilled!
    Then Climategate. I’m feeling ill.
    Then Climategate. I’m feeling ill.

The book is about the deluded and demented, and odious, Michael Mann as seen by scientific observers.  It would seem he does not come well out of it.  How could he?

#2015 'A story of children being schooled,
Not being educated,
Caught when they’re young,
Their minds impregnated;
A story of democracy
Brought to its knees,
Ruled by world bodies,
Governed by appointees.

The story of how climate
Is now changed by man,
Driven by Agenda 21,
The world governance plan;
Of how a new religion
Quite suddenly arose,
Of how we’re all spellbound
By the emperor’s new clothes.'

Rest of this poem, entitled 'A Story of Apathy', here: http://rhymeafterrhyme.net/2015/05/22/a-story-of-apathy-a-story-of-today/


#2015 This unsettling video shows a great many adults and children singing and making straight arm salutes at some climate event in Belgium called 'Sing for the Climate' in 2012:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=181&v=3_pFZe0cOI4


Note 15 January 2015.  With my other Pages still in some need of more organisation and tidying up, I feel a bit of trepidation in starting a new one.  But I think there are so many good, or at least amusing, poems and songs, and other literary or artistic works, with insights about the climate change saga that it might be handy for teachers to have a convenient collection of them.


2015 UK A comment on a post at Bishop Hill:

Hide the design
Calamity jam,
Climate science,
That's what I am.
===========
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:45 PM | Unregistered Commenterkim

2014  Australia.  A splendid modification of the Vicar of Bray at Jo Nova's:

In George Bush Senior’s golden days when climate no harm meant,
A zealous scientist was I, and so I gained preferment.
I saw the rise of CO2
might be a source of funding
And so I wrote computer code that soon defied unbundling.
chorus: And this be law, I shall insist
Until my dying day, sir
That what so ere the weather ist,
The climate is at fault, sir.
When William Clinton came to power, then climate was in fashion,
And bold Al Gore bestrode the world whose climate was his passion
The IPCC, I found, did fit
Full well my own projections
And I had been a Wall Street quant, but for these good connections.
...

See the link for many more verses!
http://joannenova.com.au/2014/11/the-vicar-of-bray-updated/


2014 Some word-changes inspired in me by a GWPF report on walruses:

The McIntyre and McKitrick
Houghton was busy in the IPCC
As busy as he could be:
He did his very best to make
An SPM real scary--
And this was odd, because there was
Every reason to be wary.


A Mann was skulking sulkily,
Because the MWP
Had got no business to be there
As far as he could see --
"It's very rude of it," he said,
"To come and spoil our spree!"



The GCMs worked normally,
Parameters piled up high.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No GHGs spreading overhead--
Only 'forcings' by and by.

The McIntyre and McKitrick
Were walking in the rough;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of guff:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "truth would be enough!"

"If they used 10 billion MIPS
Tried it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the McIntyre said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said McKitrick,
And shed a bitter tear.


"O Shysters, come and walk with us!"
The McIntyre did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."


The eldest Shyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Shyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To have his data read.


But four young Shysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their codes were brushed, their papers polished,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.(to stand on)


Four other Shysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All writing for the IPCC,
And scrambling to the fore.



The McIntyre and McKitrick
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Shysters stood
And waited in a row.


"The time has come," the McIntyre said,
"To talk of many things:
Of trees--and rings--and PCAs--
Of deceptions--and declines--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."


"But wait a bit," the Shysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of depth,
And some can smell a rat!"
"No hurry!" said McKitrick.
They thanked him much for that.


"A machine with R," the McIntyre said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Data and skill besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Shysters dear,
We can begin to feed."


"But not on us!" the Shysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the McIntyre said.
"Do you admire the view?



"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
McKitrick said nothing but
"I want to be precise:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"


"It seems a shame," the McIntyre said,
"To reveal their little trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
McKitrick said nothing but
"Errors are spread too thick!"


"I weep for you," the McIntyre said:
"I deeply sympathise."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-calculator
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Shysters," said McKitrick,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.


2014: Jo Nova draws attention to a stand-up comedian getting cheeky about Al Gore and his like: http://joannenova.com.au/2014/09/stand-up-mocks-climate-disruption/

2014: The use of story-telling has caught the attention of climate alarmists, and their theatrical sympathisers - especially when a subsidy of 700,000 dollars is made available to produce a piece of agitprop for the stage.  A shocking misuse of public funds if ever there was one, but at least the show has flopped: http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2014/09/17/curtain-reviews-come-down-on-taxpayer-funded-climate-change-musical/

2014: The climate scaremongers have cottoned-on to fiction as a propaganda device.  So what's new? you might ask.  Well they want to write stories conveying the right message: http://www.spiked-online.com/newsite/article/10978#.VBblTvldWHQ

2014 WUWT has this poem by Kevin Benn:
LIFE IS A GAS!
Life is a gas – CO2 – 
(and oxygen, of course)But to say that it drives the climate
Puts proverbial cart before horse.
What Al Gore said in his lecture,Unbacked by observable proof,
Turned out to be pure conjecture –
An inconvenient truth…
The ice-core samples from Vostok
Plotting temperature change over time
Revealed that in fact CO2 change
Lags hundreds of years behind.
Greenland was green when the Vikings
Settled a millennium ago;
While Frost Fairs were held on the ThamesSix centuries later, or so.
The IPCC used a Mann-made stick
To flatten this bumpy graph
To prove to us all – Q.E.D. –
That this life-giving gas ‘ain’t no larf!’
They say, thanks to human endeavour,
Our carbon footprints expand
Playing all hell with the weather
And flooding both ocean and land.
Once upon a time, CO2
Was a colourless, non-toxic gas;
Now: ”an anthropogenic emission”
On a mission to fry us, en masse.
The bottom line is that this vapour,
In solid or gaseous form,
Will turn the world into a greenhouse
Globally warmer than warm!
Mass production and consumption
Took off at the end of the war.
Despite Kyoto and Cops and Cap’n trade
CO2 levels continue to soar.
Fossil fuels, factories and flying machines
All add their bit to a graph
That rises each year exponentially
When it ought to be falling by half.
The temperature curve, however,
Just will not play the game:
Rise, fall, rise for a century
Then 17 years the same!
Elaborate computer models
Are the IPCC’s crystal ball
None of which have predicted
The recent no-warming-at-all!
Climate Science is now a religion
Where AGW is PC
And the MSM censure everything
Bar the Gospel of IPCC.
So worship the great god Consensus,
Believe what it tells you is Truth;
Or else you’ll be branded Denier
And your views will be taken as proof!
High Priest Strong said at Rio –
Leaving Greens to fill in the gaps –
”Isn’t the only hope for the planet
That the industrialised nations collapse?”
Now that’s hardly a secret agenda;
The Club of Rome endorsed it too:
”All we need is the right major crisis…”
And the scapegoat is – you know who!
So now parties of all creeds and colours
Profess to this climate-smart code:
Nature should be a museum
Back in pre-industrial mode.
The Germans have ‘Energiewende’,
Exchanging nuclear power for coal;
The Brits import timber from Canada
To spruce up their CO2 goals.
The rest of the Greens look to EU
To tax us all off the map
Survivors will catch the Royal Virus,
Prince Philip – jolly old chap!
Meanwhile, in the real world, the future
Has billions of new mouths to feed.
So ‘power plants’ must be provided
To supply them with all that they need.
Electricity and food for all
Means carbon dioxide, you see,
In South America, Africa, Asia…
Rather than just you and me.
Now 400 parts per million
Historically speaking’s quite small
So it’s thanks to a gentle warming
That the planet is greening at all.
For ask any market gardener
What the Greenhouse Effect means to them
And they’ll tell you that king-sized veggies
Crave 1200 ppm.
The more CO2, then, the better;
Photosynthesis thrives on the stuff.
So frack up both oil and shale gas;
Of which there is more than enough.
And let us pray Global Warming
Doesn’t take a turn for the worse
As its cousin, Global Cooling,
Is definitely more of a curse.
For Climate Change is the default –
The null-hypothetical state.
On those that say Man overrides this
The burden of proof is great.
For the climate has always been changing;
Change is here to stay.
As King Canute showed on the seashore,
Man cannot keep Nature at bay!
So, historians, when you review our time
And our hysterical CO2 show,
Remember that Mankind can’t be blamed
For your landscape of ice and snow.

2014  Monckton of Brenchley has a witty tour-de-force published at WUWT, in a fine adaptation of the famous Dead Parrot Sketch: http://wattsupwiththat.com/2014/05/25/monckton-and-monty-dead-parrot-parody-of-ipcc/  Extract follows:
'Patchy Pachauri: No, no…..No, it’s just stunned!
Cleese: STUNNED?!?
Patchy Pachauri: Yeah! You stunned it, just as it was wakin’ up! Thermageddon Blues stun easily, major.
Cleese: Um … now look … now look, mate, I’ve definitely ‘ad enough of this. That Theory is definitely deceased, and when the Department of Energy, Climate Change and Silly Walks purchased it not a quarter of a century ago, you assured me and my fellow taxpayers that its total lack of movement was due to it bein’ tired and shagged out owin’ to a prolonged hiatus.
Patchy Pachauri: Well, it’s, it’s ah … probably hiding the decline.
Cleese: HIDIN’ THE DECLINE? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its trend-line the moment we all started spending billions on it?'


2014 The Wurzels' protest song about windfarms is a bit nimbyish and ill-informed (e.g. the claim that windfarms out at sea are 'not affecting me') but it will be well-received across the swathes of the UK where these silly spin-offs from climate alarmism are to be found,


2014 W M Briggs has triggered a few poetic contributions thanks to his announcement of Global Warming, The Musical.  Here is one of the best from the comments beneath his post (go there to see lots more):

'I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I know my greenhouse science from Keeling and Arrhenius,
My hero is Pachauri, a prognosticating genius.
My arguments are fashioned from proxies picked and polished,
So hockey-sticks of various hues see history demolished.
Concerning greenhouse warming, I’m up there with the best,
My graphical analysis survives the chi-square test.
Radiation science is meat and drink to me –
The facts are at my fingertips, it’s plain for all to see.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
Not for me the blogosphere, the endless tittle-tattle,
Scientific studies are my weapons for the battle.
I know the mainstream journals, and I quote the studies actual,
With peer-review, old-pals-act too, they needn’t be so factual.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
I’m very good at bluster, hype, and statements categorical,
Don’t fence with me, for as you’ll see, my logic is canonical.
Obfuscation is my stock-in-trade, and devious my tactics,
Debating not, I write a lot, so routing all the sceptics.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
My enemies are mindless jerks, I’ll see them FOI-led again,
I delete my emails daily, and watch them hunt in vain.
Deniers all, their star will fall, the IPCC resplendent,
Will win the day, you all will pay, the EPA’s ascendent.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist,
From climate models numerous, and data-sets adjusted,
And linear regressions, come forecasts to be trusted.
Mankind is doomed, I’m sad to say, of that there’s little doubt.
The earth will burn, though rising seas will put the fires out.
The media are all agog, and keep the airwaves humming,
For bad news sells, attention dwells, just keep the funding coming.
I’m smart and brash and canny, and not a whit apologist.
I am the very model of a modern climatologist.'
It is by Tony Price: http://wmbriggs.com/blog/?p=12001&cpage=1#comment-116427


2014 10 March. Ahem, cough, one of my own efforts in response to a Bishop Hill post describing the work of a UK citizen. Paul Homewood, getting a sensible article about climate published in his a newspaper in East Anglia and in which he showed a graph in support of his contention that the local climate was quite stable.  Nothing much going on.

A calmer view
Quite near to CRU
Whatever shall the dumbos do?
Imagine if their dreadful slew
Of climate scares for me and you
Was met with far far less ado
By citizens so unimpressed by automata
That they themselves will check the data.


2014 Here are the starting and ending lines of one which I came across (h/t Another Ian ) on WUWT.  It is by a commenter using the name 'Mrs Beardsley', clearly inspired by the works of Robert W. Service:

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for fame;
The Climate Change has bedfellows strange
That would make your brain go lame;
The Southern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did bear
Was the climate geeks on the Akademik
Who got stuck in the ice-not-there.


So, that's the immediate inspiration to start this Page.  More poems, and hopefully some level of organisation to follow 'in due course'.

22 Jan 2014.  An epic poem from 'Speedy' at Jo Nova's about the Ship of Fools:

Mawson’s Spirit Gets Right of Reply

There seems no shortage, nor a dearth, of those who plan to save the earth;
Christopher Turney, (“That’s Professor, thanks”), felt the need to join their ranks,
So he organised his own crusade, somewhat pricey, mostly paid,
By largesse of the public purse – not the last time, nor the first.

His purpose and his noble goal – to sail towards the Southern Pole,
To collect, collate and then report, all data of the climate sort,
Thus confirming something we all “knew” – the evil role of CO2;
Any changes he would show, compared to Mawson, years ago.

(To raise the profile of his scheme, he passed it off as “Mawson’s Dream”.)
Apart from that, not much to do, just hire a boat with Russian crew,
And, to tabulate the climate ruin, invite some friends and camera crew in;
(These climate types, I don’t know why, are rarely, rarely camera shy.)

The ship sailed southward, out to sea, and all was going, swimmingly,
However, as the South Pole beckoned, a fact arose; no-one had reckoned;
For, despite what they’d all been told, the South Pole still was JOLLY COLD!
And, nearly 60 k’s away from shore, the ship was blocked, could go no more.

Chris gazed upon the icy sea; “We’ll disembark, – just follow me,
To explore the ice; this will be awesome – we’re gonna do a Dougie Mawson!”
So the kiddies all got off and played, but, tragically, they overstayed;
For when they returned, the time had passed – the ship by now was stuck and fast!

These latest antics off the coast, had worn quite thin with Russian host;
To Chris he cried: “You stupid jerk! You’ve cost me time and lots of work!
I’m sure you thought it would be nice, to take that frolic on the ice;
You came back late, now, thanks to you, my ship is firmly in the pooh.”

“Your mission’s goal was crystal clear – you had but just the one idea,
To preen and ponce, pontificate, while playing judge to mankind’s fate;
And earnestly parade your views, while looking good for camera crews -
But I’d be more impressed, my climate chap, if you’d learnt to read a weather map!”

“You’re very wrong, my Russian friend, for I know how this will end -
The climate models clearly show, a future lack of ice and snow,
And while models may be thin on proof, we treat them as the Gospel truth,
So therefore soon, perhaps today, we’ll free this ship and sail away.”

Three days later…

But cold it was, and stuck they stayed – a few were getting quite dismayed:
“Oh won’t you come and save us please – we’d much prefer not stay and freeze -
And, if your ship burns fossil fuel, it’s quite OK, we’re really cool.”
Our icebound heroes were at wit’s ends, and sent some “selfies” to their friends…

That evening…

After dinner, and a well-aged red, Chris did toddle off to bed,
He pondered the ship’s immobile status, (it could only be a mild hiatus),
And what would Deniers have to say, as they saw that ice just melt away -
So he dreamed his dream, as he closed his eyes, of that long-awaited Nobel Prize…

He awoke at midnight, and became aware, of the ghost which stood in silence there,
With his slimy green skin and his icy cold breath – this guy was having a lousy death,
And was not at all a happy ghost, being most abrupt towards his host;
“Wakey, wakey, Climate Priest – you know how it is with us deceased,

Turning up at awkward hours, invoking all our spooky powers;
Groaning and moaning and delivering lectures, that’s afterlife for all us spectres,
Floating on air along the halls, then disappearing through the walls;
But, I think you’ll find me extra awesome – for I am the ghost of Douglas Mawson!

And I, myself, have something new – a few “ideas” I feel that you,
Would be advised quite full and well, to remember, recollect and tell
Your colleagues of a similar ilk, those who lie and cheat, defraud and bilk.
For I am annoyed at you, to say the least – you’ve cheesed me off, you Climate Priest!

One hundred years ago, nigh on the day, I steamed my boat into this Bay,
And, well before your climate “crisis”, we landed where the coast was iceless.
Now, this self-same spot, post global “warming”, is blocked by all the sea-ice forming,
So, despite the “wisdom” of your creed, the facts, it seems, have disagreed.

But facts are dull and oh so dreary – they contradict your precious theory,
But you climate chaps know what to do – you implement a “trick” or two,
To “educate” the public mind, and, (for causes of this noble kind),
You deem deception just and right. (All lies by Greens are small and white.)

As an example use this present case, this very boat, this very place,
Locked in ice you thought had melted; your theory, sir, I say, is belted!
But that conclusion would not do! It contravened your point of view -
So, with sophistry and convolution, you ascribe both hot AND cold to man’s pollution!

But your argument now is quite absurd – it’s nothing more than bovine merde -
Then, to show how much you just don’t know – you change your story as you go,
And to ensure the public understands, you raise your voice and wave your hands;
You thus escalate the public fears, and gain approval from your peers.

But the fact remains, you can’t disguise – that what you speak are porky pies,
As has been done, times countless past, by those of upper climate caste,
Lies of fact, lies of exclusion, lies of logic, lies of collusion,
Are stock in trade for a thieves’ alliance – but they have no place in open science.

If you know your facts and have the proof – it’s very easy, just tell the truth –
But if you’re any less than total Francis, you have to go and take your chances,
With cons and shams and tricks and cheats, hockey stick graphs and missing heats -
And oh what a tangled web we do weave, when first we practise to deceive!

You blazed your path to fame and glory, by telling less than half the story,
And if ever there was room for doubt, you’d skip the bits you wanted out,
To reach the sure and safe conclusion, approved and blessed with team collusion;
And though you’re just a phoney prophet, you somehow get your jollies off it.

Half-baked theories and utter twaddle, you embed these in a “climate model”,
While your “settled science” – that proud consensus – is a roll-call of the vain pretentious,
Your fellow travellers, who so richly gain, from coasting on this gravy train.
But when your friends are wrong – which is hardly new – you label it as “Peer Review”.

ll these shams and fakes and little tricks, they’re not science, they are politics,
But what I find is really lame – you do these things and use my name,
As if to suggest or imply, of course, that I would support or like endorse,
You, your theory, or your acts, which both hide the truth and twist the facts.

So I’d thank you please, in future verbals, invoke the name of Joseph Goebbels."

2011 USA A song written upon hearing that a new computer for the UK Met office would use energy at the rate of 1MW:

Some people say people are made outta mud
Global warmists they are, they are chewing their cud,
Chewing their cud and follow Al Gore
A mind that’s a-weak can you ask for much more?

More than one megawatt, and what do you get?
Another prognosis and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don’t you call ’em ’cause you must let ’em be
They sold their souls to the IPCC.

They came in one mornin’ when the sun didn’t shine
They picked up their papers and continued the grind
They had sixteen conditions, mostly falsified bull
And the straw boss said “Well, a-bless my soul”.

More than one megawatt, and what do you get?
Another prognosis and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don’t you call ’em ’cause you must let ’em be
They sold their souls to the IPCC.

They came in one mornin’, it was drizzlin’ rain
the prognosis had failed them again and again
The boss harshly told them, You will do many more
Do as I tell you, and agree with Al Gore.

More than one megawatt, and what do you get?
Another prognosis and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don’t you call ’em ’cause you must let ’em be
They sold their souls to the IPCC.

The cold snap we’re having now, it just cannot last
and hidin’ the warming that occurred in the past
Their ol’ man Mann and his hockey stick.
With conditions like this nothing ever will click.

More than one megawatt, and what do you get?
Another prognosis and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don’t you call ’em ’cause you must let ’em be
They sold their souls to the IPCC.

Source: https://everestlancaster.wordpress.com/2011/01/22/lies-damned-lies-statistics-and-climate-forecasting-a-song/  (there's a video of it being sung by the author there too)

2011 Some I collected on the Bishop Hill blog during 2011


An Anthology of Poetry on Bishop Hill


Poems by
Dreadnought
Geoff
Phillip
Patrick (2)
John (3)
Hilary

Plus

 

[Ozymandias Revisited]
I met a traveller from a distant shire
Who said: A vast and pointless shaft of steel
Stands on a hill top… Near it, in the mire,
Pic source
Half sunk, a shattered turbine lies, whose wheels
And riven blades and snarls of coloured wire
Tell that its owners well their mission read
Which did not last nor, nowhere to be seen,
The hand that paid them and the empty head.
And scrawled around the base these lines are clear:
‘My name is Milibandias, greenest Green.
Look on my works, ye doubters, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round this display
Of reckless cost and loss, blotless and fair,
The green and pleasant landscape rolls away.

(pic: http://www.americanthinker.com/2010/02/wind_energys_ghosts_1.html)



(2) Geoff Chambers (http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2010/4/9/the-modern-climatologist.html)

[to be sung, from the Pirates of Penzance]

I am the very model of a modern climatologist
I’m partly statistician, partly palaeo-phrenologist
I’ve temperature readings from thermometers coniferous
my data are the same (or not, well, maybe) as Keith Briffa has
I bought them from a bloke who brought them hotfoot from Siberia
and mixed them with some algae from the mud in Lake Superior.
When counting different isotopes I’m really in my element
and sucking up to journalists from Guardian Environment
I know what makes the treerings from Siberia to the Rockies tick
And I can make spaghetti and transform it to a hockeystick.
My data’s got dark matter that would shatter a cosmologist
I am the very model of a modern climatologist




 [cf first verse in Richard III]

Now is the winter of our discontent,                                    
http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/1/7/josh-65.html
Made glorious summer by the Met Office Computer.  





(4) Patrick (http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/11/3/two-new-papers-on-surface-temperatures.html#comments)

[Inspired by a post on surface temperatures]

They seek it here
they seek it there
that damned elusive (AGW) signature
That missing 'hot spot'
would' ve stopped the rot
but but then we got
the ' wind shear ' lot
Then again we see
Travesty Trenberth                    
http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/2/3/josh-72-redux.html
and the missing OHC
Oh what more mirth
will there be?
More data needed
funding to be seeded
alarms not well heeded
IPCC has not succeeded
Uncertainty reigns
Oh how it pains
to see such reason
out of season
Bless the Bishop Hill
for giving us our fill
of Matt Ridley's like
instead of Mike
and all his Team
so we can dream
of a future clime
with CO2 no crime
Aw shucks
this sucks
I hear you say
give it up and go away!



(5) Patrick (http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/11/3/blackening-the-name-of-the-bbc.html?currentPage=2#comments )

An Ode to Climate Science

Good, better, BEST                                
http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/10/23/the-best-on-offer-josh-123.html
the data cannot rest,
such torture endured
by now we’ re inured
to trends suspicious,
and stats injudicious
much variance diverging
from reality emerging
the paleodata surging
past is present haunting
uncertainties are daunting
hypotheses astounding
are ever so resounding,
untestable of course
then that’s the source
of conclusions erratical
from climatologists fanatical,
whose logical defiance
based on over-reliance
on concepts theoretical
and models hypothetical
with assumptions abounding
and parameters surrounding
such splendid renditions
of initial conditions
and boundary limits
with feedback exhibits
such a virtual world
with scenarios unfurled
sensitivity to measure
and results to treasure
with projections aplenty
and scenarios many
predictions never admitted
now are not permitted
in post-modern science
With a hint of reliance
On well worn consensus
And groupthink relentless
How utterly senseless
Where pal review reigns
And sensitivity gains
Are so wide ranging
With credibility straining
Cherry-picking for tenure
No-one to censure
hypotheses not tested
truth cannot be wrested
from the likes of IPCC
ARGO data from the sea
are troublesome it seems
as to what it means?
satellites not tree rings
will give us soundings
of clouds and aerosols
Well bless our souls!
the feedback's critical
for hacks so political
and ever hypocritical
with pretexts ever flimsy
to tax us at their whimsy
Bristle-cone pines
Are stretching the lines
Across eons of time
In California at least
Where trees can feast
On good old CO2
And yet we know too
That the graph’s askew
Mann-made warming
now there’s a warning
the blade’s uplifted
with data sifted,
by PCA short centring
All ready for entering
A journal so lenient
extremely convenient
the puck is ready
the ice is steady
but the decline ‘s hidden
thus the message given
until came the mire
Now it’s McIntyre
With McKitrick in tow
That’s ruined the show!
Oh how reality bites
When the method invites
Such critics revealing
secrets unappealing
Well now that it’s done
We’ve all had our fun
Oh why, oh why
they all cry
cannot he resist
he truly must desist
from silly verse
so terse and worse
sentiments ill-considered
time and efforts frittered
On and on it goes
Heaven only knows
yet more appended
til he' s suspended
fear not this is ended.



Ode to CO2 Alarmists

Oh what a tangled web they've weaved
From their 'good intentions'
Of breath they leave us quite bereaved
http://bishophill.squarespace.com/blog/2011/6/16/renewable-friends-josh-104.html
At all their machinations

The loss they bring                   The harm they cause
Are not by them intended
They seek to save us from ourselves
And so they are contented

But when a little light is shone
Their tricks are not so dandy
Their closed-world views
Their 'settled debates'
Their grimly told imperatives
Are all so weak they dare not seek
To see there are alternatives




To Eco-Funders of the EU and Elsewhere

‘Astroturfers’ faking grassroots is a neat American usage
But what shall we call
Those who are in thrall
To giving eco-luvvies their potage?

In exchange for hours of slick trash
Of smoking old stacks
Of climate-change hacks
They give them a pile of our cash

I favour ‘Digital-fakirs’, it isn’t too crass
For their misuse of tax
From the sweat of our backs
Is used to raise snakes in the grass

Their toxins get into the media
To poison our discourse each day
(And knock us off course by the way
From a progress more civil and free)

The sorry list of funders as shown on Bishop Hill
Will do as they must
They take it on trust
That our thoughts can be herded like whales do with krill

But what if their actions are harmful, that hidden behind all the smug
Are views misinformed
And intentions deformed
Helping the grave of good discourse be dug?



(8) JS (Unthreaded: Nov 30, 2011 at 5:29 PM)

Crude Versification Brought on by CG2

cartoonsbyjosh.com
The eco-schemers thrive on our fears
Of doom and Armageddon
Their backroom boys in such as CRU
Have been quick to do their biddin’

They cook the books and lose the data
Their statistical fails are legion
But they can push and pressurise
The weaker of their brethren

For the truth as such they give no hoot
For them it is invention
Policy-first evidence-last is their delight
To sustain their core intention

Their high disdain is really plain
In downgrading observation
In preference to the model’s spew
Of fuel for consternation

Their own words seen through CG2
Justify damnation
For the harm they have caused their fellow man
By ruthless machination

But the eco-memes both far and wide
Attacking civilisation
Are well-entrenched in establishments
Source FoE
Once-thought beyond corruption

They have the teachers in the schools
Teaching desperation
Scaring the kids to hate their world
And call for its destruction

They have the bankers from their vaults
Urging decarbonisation
A mighty source of funds they thought
But it brings ruination

The media fops and luvvies too
Enjoy their captivation
With heroic cause and heartfelt lament
To call for intervention

But this tale of sound and fury
Of wanton simplification
Has brought us nought but grief and woe
From avoidable distraction

The great challenges are out there still
Beyond all this confusion
So let the eco-schemers be exposed
As a source of sick illusion

(9) Hilary (Unthreaded: Dec 1, 2011 at 6:21 AM)

'Twas the night before doomsday when all through the House
Not a creature was demurring, not even a scouse
The pleadings were hung in many churnalisms with scare
In the hope that Devil Carbon would permeate the air

The peons were resting, safe in their beds
Source Hallmark
Far away from the troll-posts of BBD and ZEDs
And many in innocence, and others more jaundiced
Watched them fall into debates oh-so-weighted
With factoids neo-warmist

When out on the interweb there arose such a clatter
My mouse sprang from its mousepad to see what was the matter
Away to the Google it flew like a flash
Where it watched quite intently
As excuses were hatched

From Acton and Jones and across the Atlantic
Were excuses from Mann that seemed somewhat frantic
While coolly The Saint watched with far from dismay
Happy reading to all, s/he said, but do not delay.

As Hilary hinted in her original post of this on Unthreaded, the source carol does go on a lot longer.

(10) From other sites
For many more 'climate changed carols', try this post and the comments that go with it: http://wattsupwiththat.com/2011/12/10/12-days-of-christmas-climategate/

Here is one short enough to put here from Peter C Glover:
The Twelve 12 Days of Durban
On the first day of Doomsville, alarmists gave to me…
12 Days in Durban
11 Journos hyping
10 Temps-not-Leaping
9 Mann’s-a-Dancing
8 Economies-busting
7 Seas-not-rising
6 Carbon-phobias
5 thousand e-mailed things!
4 Absurd reports
3 Skeptic ‘birds’
2 Climate-gates
And a message entirely fact-free!


A Child’s Epiphany About Eco-Mania

I wanted to be an eco-nut, just like some of my peers
But everything they told me
Fell down around my ears

They said the world is warming, and that is somehow bad
But when I see what cooling does
More heat would make me glad

They said our fuel is critically low, as you must realise
But all that is clearly based
On many layers of lies

They said more CO2 means more Y, where Y is something scary
Then Mother Nature ups and acts
In ways that are contrary

I used to fret on polar bears, on penguins, and on pack-ice
But now I see how they all thrive
As if my fears were groundless

It’s fracking this and fracking that, will frack us up forever
Our taps will ignite, ground tremors give fright
But reality might differ

My radical chums said religion is wrong, a terrible miasma
But their high priests from computer suites come
And preach their stuff as dogma

Beware the warmth, beware the fire, beware the fuel of fossils
Look at this chart, look at this plot
And tremble ye poor mortals

But I don’t like to shiver, from fear or freezing snow
And as for turning eco-nut
I’ll tell them where to go.

I’ll tell them where to put it, their doom-besotted drivel
I happen to think we humans
Are actually quite special

We deal with things, we find new ways, we add to our great progress
We thrive when challenged but get annoyed
When fed that eco-nonsense






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