Third Rant from the Sun

The Rant would like to remind you the Earth does not care one jot or tittle about our existence.¹ Because the Earth abides, dude. Easy come, easy go. The dinosaurs thought they were all that, too. Unless Captain Orange and his Space Cadets, or whatever they’re calling the imaginary space army, assembles a Death Star, the Earth plans to keep right on spinning long after we breath our last.

Humans have an almost pathological need to feel special. Earth, like the head cheerleader Kris in high school, begs to differ. Even though you were super-nice to Kris and complimented her incessantly and made witty ripostes standing around her locker that absolutely killed. Nothing. Or was that just The Rant? Anyway, Earth will just shrug and say, “whatever” as you mourn the loss of your beachfront property due to rising seas and a manatee defiles the tastefully arranged throw-pillows on your Sleep Number bed. The manatee’s number is 67 in case you were wondering. The manatee likes to keep it firm.

Geomagnetists have noticed of late that the magnetic north pole has a traveling jones.² Hunkered down in Canada for most of the 20th Century, in the mid 1990’s Magnetic North started booking it for Siberia, increasing from wandering 15 kilometers per year to 55. The poor geomagnetists finally had to bundle up and go search for MN in 2007, like a worried parent driving around in search of their teen after curfew. Among the culprits might be a “high-speed jet of liquid iron” losing its mojo beneath Canada. Siberia’s magnetism has gained the upper hand, offering MN superior vodka and cheap cigarettes. And that accent just turns MN to jelly, or a high-speed jet of liquid iron. We’re a little fuzzy on the science.

Lest you think geomagnetists are just nerds with giant horseshoe magnets purchased from Acme, The Rant would like you to know they create something called the World Magnetic Model, which allows ships and planes to navigate accurately. The World Magnetic Model also enables your smartphone to direct you to that hipster artisanal soap store instead of under the I-95 bridge where a guy named Krill wants to sell you cut-rate fentanyl. You’re welcome.

So if Earth has no qualms jacking with your phone, an object you revere more than your family, and at this point, The Rant suggests you stop pretending that’s not true, there’s no limit to the mayhem our celestial home might unleash. Of all the arguments about quelling the tide of climate change, the most preposterous to The Rant has always been the notion that we’re “hurting” the Earth. We’re not destroying the planet; we’re destroying the conditions that make our existence on the planet viable. Earth’s gonna do what’s right for Earth. If we decide to make Earth the microwave and our species the convenience store burrito, so be it. But Earth also has no problem going deep freeze so MN can get bottle service at the equator with that tramp Siberia.

We continue making all this about Earth because we cannot have the real conversation: why do we continually make choices that ensure the suffering of future generations? Why can we sacrifice none of our comforts for the betterment of others? What makes us so incapable of considering tomorrow? Earth might ponder the same questions when we go extinct. But The Rant doubts it. Earth just is. Plus magnetic north will need comforting when Siberia leaves for the South Pole. You should see the jet of liquid iron on that pole.

1. For you heathens that comprise the vast majority of The Rant’s reading public, a jot is the smallest letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and a tittle is the small mark that differentiates one letter from another. Think of the dot over the letter “i”. The expression denotes things broken down to their smallest parts. You’d know all that if you ever went to Sunday school.
2. The Rant would like to thank Nature for all the brainy facts.