Personally, I am a sucker for Earth Day.  Especially compared to other inane holidays such as Talk Like a Pirate Day, Christmas Day and whatever that one is where we celebrate veterans who had the good sense not to get killed for Memorial Day—I forget what that one’s called.

Anyway, I am especially enamored of Earth Day and our national Earth Day traditions—as firmly entrenched in American culture as slaughtering Thanksgiving turkeys and grilling pureed, artificially-colored animal stomachs, snouts, lips and spleens jammed into pig intestines on July 4^th.  They are evidence of a genuine commitment to stemming the tide of environmental disaster currently enveloping Spaceship Earth.

To name but a few of Earth Day ‘Commandments’:

1. Mow not thy lawn; let the grass grow freely, as God intended.
2. Likewise, allow Mother Nature to thrive for her own sake, not for the exploitive avarice of mankind.  In other words, eat neither of the lima bean nor the brussels sprout; nor of the turnip nor the eggplant; nor of the parsnip nor the beet; nor okra nor especially not Oprah, because how gross is that?  For everything there may be a season, except for that.
3. On this day, you may with clear conscience call people in irreversible comas ‘vegetables’.
4. Smoke all the dope you want, because that shit has already been picked.  But sow the seeds in some vacant lot so that thou may replenish what thou have taken.

Et cetera.

Ira Einhorn, Earth Day, 1970

So, yeah, Earth Day is the shiz!  You know, of course, that it was founded in Philly in 1970, in part by Ira Einhorn—that fat fuck who killed his gorgeous girlfriend, then kept her in his closet in a suitcase until fluids from her rotting flesh began to dribble into the apartment of downstairs neighbors, who previously had nothing to complain about but loud music.  I mean, say what you want about murder sucking and all that, but composting your girlfriend?  Earth First genius.

Hats off to Ira, I say.  And hats off to John McConnell, to Edmund Muskox, to Denis Hayes, to Secretary General U Thant despite his idiotic name, to that Beatle who looks like Angela Lansbury, and while we are at it, hats off to PETA, because if it wasn’t for Lebanese bread we would have to eat hummus with our bare hands—a concept only slightly less repulsive than Oprah munching.

Jaden ‘I’m Even Dorkier Than This In Person’ Smith

This year—Earth Day 2013—each of more than one billion people will be celebrating the largest secular holiday on the planet in their own inimitable fashion. Some will be planting trees, then hugging them; others may be found conducting various recycling programs and picking up roadside trash (not hookers, silly); non-agoraphobics in Washington, DC may join hundreds of thousands of angry but gentle eco-activists on the National Mall.  Meanwhile, Jaden Smith, son of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith—actor, musician and spoiled little shit—will be lending his voice in support of Earth Day Network’s The Canopy Project!, making it obvious that everyone The Canopy Project! really wanted gave them a thumbs down.

And verily, Earth Day is truly a global event. In Gabon, there will be a talking drum chain; in Russia, they will dance in the streets without energy-wasting streetlights while secretly paying homage to Lenin and his philosophy. In Germany, they will cavort around the may pole; in Poland, they will cavort around the german pole. In Canada, they will do whatever it is that Canadians generally do—which I suspect is not much.

Of course, there will always be kill-joy spoil-sport buzz-killers like Ethan Annabelle Koch of The World Health Organization who reminds us that on last year’s Earth Day, 16,438 children starved to death.

You know what I have to say to that, Ethan, you oozing puddle of poozle sap?

Name one of ‘em.

Where Will You Be on Earth Day, 2013?

Presumably, you’ll be a busy as a bee’s beaver with some ‘green’ activity, like turning off lights, pouring common, chemical-based household products down the sewer while switching to natural stuff like vinegar and cat urine, bringing your own bag to the grocery store and otherwise amputating great chunks of your carbon ‘foot’ in order to reduce your carbon ‘footprint’.

Shoot to kill, Jesse

Ha ha ha! Actually, I couldn’t give a flying foo fighter’s badonkadonk what you’re doing on Earth Day—go set Yellowstone on fire with a propane torch for all I care.  Walk around your neighborhood and turn on everyone’s water spigots, then go home and set the thermostat to five hundred.  Fertilize, fertilize, fertilize. Harpoon Willy as he leaps the rock pile, screaming, ‘Take that you blenching bag of blistering blubber.’

Because do you know where I will be on Earth Day, 2013?  I will be in Paso Robles, California, at the 7th Annual Earth Day Food & Wine Festival.

Now We’re Whistlin’ Earth Day

Bring it, bitch

Screw all this eco-friendly horse-caca anyway, know what I mean?  The earth blows the universal gonad, and we all know it.  It is too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, and unless you live in a minute parcel of real estate in Faulconbridge, Australia or somewhere in the Canary Islands, you will spend your entire life trying to find reasons not to have to go outside.  Save the earth, my ass.  Save the tornadoes, save the avalanches, the tsunamis, the floods, the droughts, the ebola outbreaks, the volcano eruptions, the earthquakes, the out of control wildfires?

Save that goddamn meteor hurling at us at 100,000 miles per hour; that’s what I say.

And frankly, I want my SUV, I want my incandescent light bulbs, I want my hormone-laden porterhouse steaks; I don’t want to re-use anything and I certainly don’t want to have to bring ‘my own bags’ to the grocery store and look like a complete douchenozzle. Above all, I do not want one of those blue, yuppie-guilt-recycling buckets sitting in front of my house on trash day—about the lamest gesture of ‘I care, people’ that I’ve ever encountered on this unsalvageable hunk of dirt and swamp-slime.

Justin Smith trying to get laid.

Naw, they have it right in Paso Robles at the 7th Annual Earth Day Food & Wine Festival.  Their name, of course, is as blatant a front as ‘Genco Pura Olive Oil’ in The Godfather, because the real agenda is selling $600 per person tickets to a luncheon at James Berry Vineyard, where winemaker Justin Smith will graciously get us all plastered on his award-winning wines, followed by a three-course meal consisting of Morro Creek Avocado Custard & Egg Yolk and Crab Toast, followed by Cattle Grass Fed Beef Carpaccio, Porcini Mushroom Ragout, Truffled Vinaigrette, Arugula, Pozo Tomme, Hazelnuts and finishing with a Grilled Apricot & Almond Tart.

This, while the rest of you neo-hippie jackholes are gagging on your sprouts and flax seeds.

Best part of the whole afternoon?  The meal is served ‘al fresco’, which I believe is Italian for ‘inside a nice, air-conditioned dining room.’

But Seriously, People. Who’s Zoomin’ Who?

The event sounds cool, even $600 per person, but an attempt to link it to Earth Day?  On any rational level whatsoever? While simultaneously, kids in the real world are gathering garbage from highway berms, cleaning up parks and rivers, planting things, learning to compost, learning to recycle, learning to give a shit about things far removed from the vacuousness of Robert Parker Jr. ‘100 point’ wines?

Jesucristo, even I’m not that cynical.

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Lyrics for the Earth Day Anthem; set to ‘Ode to Joy’

Joyful joyful, we adore our Earth with all our carnal thrusts,
Simple sex with nature that all join into a paradise.
Now we must resolve to kertang her,
Give her our wanks throughout all time.
Reach out gentle hands and touch,
We make her squeal with perfect lust.
Now we must resolve to jiffy-stiffy her,
Give her our puds throughout all time.
With our gentle hand and touch,
We make her scream with perfect scromps.