Friday, May 7

You can only hope to contain me.

By The Gulf Oil Spill

I'm free!

That's right BP, you're not refining my ass into gas!

This petroleum-powered genie is out of the bottle! Let me tell you, there's nothing quite like a cool ocean breeze over the open sea.  I feel like Ernest Hemingway out here!

I always wanted a little time in the sun, a day at the beach, if you will — and now I've finally got it. I've put in my time —  thousands of years — just sitting here, mixed with mud, under layer upon layer of sediment, constant heat and pressure, converting my organic kerogens into hydrocarbons through the process of catagenesis.

Do you know I used to be plants? Prehistoric zooplankton and algae!  When you get down to it, I was green waaaaay before any of you environmentalist motherfuckers!

What's that you say? You don't want me endangering the coasts with my nasty, oily self?  Wait a minute — isn't the cast of Jersey Shore in Miami?  And you have the audacity to call me 'crude?'

Another thing — do you really care that much about waterfowl or do you just want to make some more of those self-fellating Dawn commercials? You saved a couple of ducks by giving them a bath. Go ahead, pound that out "heroes."  Me and my ilk? We've just been powering the engines of innovation and production for over a hundred f-in years. Without me, you'd still be harassed by buggy whip salesmen.

Oh, you're welcome.

I now "threaten" the Gulf Coast fishery establishment, not to mention the tourism trade of the entire state of Florida, as if I'm some kind of terrorist. Let me ask you an honest question — have you seen some of these 'tourists' that take to these beaches ... now that's some terror! Clearwater ...  you can thank me later.

So, bring on the skimmer boats and the chemical dispersants and the 41 miles of boom.

I'm still gushing away at 215,000 gallons a day.  Pretty slick, ain't it?