Do What I Say, Not What I Do

I've never had much time for ranters who want to tell me what I "should" do. I'm not big on finger wagging.

I am big on education. I think if you show people the various sides to an issue, they can figure it out for themselves.

The problem with moral preachers is that they are often busy in the back room sinning.

So I now introduce you to Al "don't turn off my lights" Gore, the preacher of gloom-and-doom, of the impending heat death of the planet. I found this bit of tattle tale from Nashville in a blog at the Nashville Post site:

I pulled up to Al’s house, located in the posh Belle Meade section of Nashville, at 8:48pm – right in the middle of Earth Hour. I found that the main spotlights that usually illuminate his 9,000 square foot mansion were dark, but several of the lights inside the house were on.

In fact, most of the windows were lit by the familiar blue-ish hue indicating that floor lamps and ceiling fixtures were off, but TV screens and computer monitors were hard at work. (In other words, his house looked the way most houses look about 1:45am when their inhabitants are distractedly watching “Cheaters” or “Chelsea Lately” reruns.)

The kicker, though, were the dozen or so floodlights grandly highlighting several trees and illuminating the driveway entrance of Gore’s mansion.

I [kid] you not, my friends, the savior of the environment couldn’t be bothered to turn off the gaudy lights that show off his goofy trees.

I have no idea of the literal truth of the above. It has the ring of truth. But I could be wrong and if so, I will delete this blog entry. But my experience in life with finger waggers tells me this is all too likely to be a true story.