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Oh man. Date of no return for not-turning this so-far-habitable dirt (or rather:water) ball into a pressure cooker: 2038.

Having some experience with "oh, but we can't do it THAT fast", this means: 15 years minimum (more like 20). 2038... minus 20... let me think... *ponders*... 2018. Fuck. (sorry, but the truth habitually not is a gentle thing, to use a yodaism). Which makes the right honourable PM of Tonga,  ĽAkilisi Pohiva, the genius of the day. (Guardian just reported him saying that politicians not believing in climate change [believing!!! for gods sake] should be relocated to the next asylum for the clinically insane [or somesuch]).

So. We're gonna die, unless we really get our shit together. No surprise there.

"We" meaning every single one of us, where "us" means humanity.
What am I doing: reduce plastic, reduce car, reduce meat, reduce power use. Set out sugar and honey bowls for bees. No unnecessary chemicals. No unnecessary stuff. Talk to people, make them aware. Politicize the whole thing, and pester everyone and their dog concerning this problem. No electing of "quarterly results are more important than survival of the race" idiots.

If I weren't such a coward, I'd join sea shepherd. But I am. So I'll throw some money. Yeah, wimp. There you go with your comfort zone.