Darwin continues to knock himself senseless with facepalms as witless GOPasaurs continue roaming the landscape. Neither natural selection nor any other laws of biology, chemistry, physics, geology, or fair play have been able to check the advance of these craven Cretaceous critters. Even their own gross malfeasance (I'm talking to you Appalachiasaurus marksanfordii) results in perpetuation of their reign or error rather than well-deserved and long overdue extinction.
Today, rather than tracking the animalian antics of individual GOPasaurs (amusing as that may be), your intrepid diarist will examine the forces that threaten these blundering behemoths. Extinction is coming, kids. It's just taking a while longer than expected.
To understand what we're up against, let's consider "real" dinosaurs (unlike their GOPasaurian kin). Real dinosaurs ruled the Earth, had their day, then fell prey to extinction, and stayed extinct. That's the normal order of things (and a cautionary tale for every individual or population that's outstayed their allocated 15 minutes of fame). They did have the good sense to allow future generations to capture their Btu value in the form of finite deposits of petroleum, the juice of modern life.
Ironically, today's GOPasaurs worship all fossil fuels - oil, coal, natural gas - and believe that Skyasaurus put these resources here in the Murican Craton just for us. Since Skyasaurus is all powerful and loves us, he also ensured that, as fast as we'd deplete these resources, he'd replenish the supply for like, forever.
Skyasaurus also scattered these precious fluids, gases, and crunchy materials elsewhere around the world for us to find and take, leaving the people of those lands with a big greasy mess (and some rich guys at the top of the food chain with Maseratis). Point is, the stuff was just there for the taking, and GOPasaurs are all about taking (their quips about "takers" notwithstanding).
Once they got their little forelimbs on the oil and coal (it was harder to grab onto natural gas, and, frankly, it's a bit too clean, for their tastes), it was off to the races to burn as much of it as possible to heat their enormous caves, power their death-dealing-stuff factories, fuel their cars and private planes, and cook giant chunks of Roast Beast.
The skies soon filled with noxious emissions, vast swaths of mountain land were laid bare, rivers and streams became acidic slip-n-slides for vulnerable creatures, and the Earth began to feel a touch warmer. This time, though, it wasn't incipient menopause. It was Global Warming, the beginning of the end for the GOPasaurs, but more importantly, for everyone else and everything else that creepeth, crawleth, swimmeth, and otherwise perambulateth on or across our lovely blue-and-green orb.
The GOPasaurs greeted this development with the same powerful defense mechanism that had served them so well through other threats: denial.
The climate was just fine, thank you. Why, the beaches of the Caymanian Archipelago were the perfect temperature! The rooms of their expansive McMansonian caves were cool with the whirr of fossil-fuel-powered air conditioners. The GOPasaurs scorned the scientists who foretold of Great Doom, and countered their logic with vast (or half-vast) reports churned out by Petroleum Interest-Funded Think Tanks.
Meanwhile, the Earth warmed, glaciers and ice caps melted, sea levels rose, and those plants and animals that could uproot themselves hit the road for more temperate zones. Those who could not adapt found themselves falling on tough times. GOPasaurs have no sympathy for those in need. Indeed, as more and more members of the animal kingdom began falling by the wayside, the GOPasaurs laughed derisively. For you see, children, GOPasaurs, like the Grinch, had a heart several sizes too small, and a brain of similar disproportion. They could witness endless suffering and tell each other "that's a good start" without a moment's remorse.
The Earth, aggrieved at the continued pillaging of her treasures, decided to ratchet up the Special Effects. Soon, monster storms began sweeping the Murican Craton. Swirling tornados, frightening thunderstorms, epic blizzards, and monstrous floods devastated communities. Worse still (from the perspective of monied GOPasaurs with investments in the insurance industry), there was extensive property damage.
Sadly, even these unambiguous signs went unheeded, and the GOPasaurs carried on like drunken partiers on a sinking yacht, oblivious to the warm, tropical water washing across the deck. The band played on, the hors d'oeuvres were simply marvelous, and those attractive females that had been rented for the occasion were so beautifully coiffed and dressed. What more could be desired? The GOPasaurs had attained their place at the top of the food chain, and there they would remain.
By dawn of the following morning, the party yacht (ironically emblazoned with the name "Fuelish Pleasures" in gold leaf) was listing alarmingly to the right, and taking on water in earnest. The GOPasaurs struggled to dial their smart phones, to no avail (damned forelimbs! always so useless!). The sun sparkled on the water (or perhaps that was a diesel fuel slick, hard to tell), and land was nowhere in sight. Appeals to Skyasaurus went unheeded, and with a massive shudder and a great deal of whimpering, the Fuelish Pleasure sunk to a watery grave.
Every day, sediment, washed from the Murican Craton by the rising rivers, is blanketing the site of the wreck and beginning the eons-long process of extracting from these self-indulgent creatures their only true worth: a few Btus.
The Earth will survive. It's been through a lot, and it's still here, and it will endure for many more eons, with or without us. But whether or not we - and our animal friends - survive will depend on the vision of our leaders, including the GOPasaurs, whose greed, denial, and hubris have left us in truly dire straits. For while the planet warmed, they were the ones turning up the thermostat, lighting bonfires, and flaring off natural gas in the night sky.