Cow Moo Moo

Global warming. Global cooling. Climate change. Cow farts. Take your pick—it is all part of the same buffet of panic where the menu keeps changing, but the bill never does. First, we were told the world was freezing in the 1970s. Then, apparently, it was on fire in the 1990s. Today, it is whatever the headlines need it to be—scorching, flooding, storming, melting, or, as this year’s hurricane season kindly demonstrated, unusually mellow.

Yes, mellow. At the very “peak of the peak” of hurricane season, when the weather gods are supposed to release four named storms and two hurricanes like clockwork, the Atlantic decided to take a nap. A 19-day shutout. Half the expected activity. Imagine the confusion at Climate Central: “Wait… storms are supposed to be stronger, wetter, deadlier… why is the sky not cooperating?” Answer: because the atmosphere, like a teenager with chores, sometimes just says, “Nah.”

Meteorologists dutifully pull out the Bermuda-Azores High, the jet stream, Saharan dust—real weather stuff, mind you. But do not expect that to stop activists from inserting “climate change” into every conversation. A quiet season? Proof of climate change. A busy season? Proof of climate change. Somewhere in the middle? You guessed it—climate change. It is the perfect unfalsifiable theory. Heads they win, tails you pay carbon taxes.

And then there is the great bovine conspiracy. We are told cow farts—yes, methane from the business end of Bessie—are tipping the scales of planetary survival. Never mind China’s coal plants or data centers running hotter than a Vegas blackjack table; it is the dairy farm in Wisconsin you really need to fear. If only cows would eat less grass and more kale, perhaps we could save the polar bears.

The truth is, weather is chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes flat-out boring. A calm hurricane season is not the death of the climate crisis narrative—it is just a temporary inconvenience for those who rely on doom for funding. Give it a few weeks, a tropical storm will eventually appear, and the headlines will pivot back to “unprecedented” in no time.

Until then, remember: global warming, cooling, change, or cow farts—it is all marketing. The science may be complicated, but the sales pitch is always the same: send money, lower expectations, and prepare to be lectured by people who fly private jets to climate conferences.