01.31.2010 0

Slapshot: Little Robby the Weatherboy

  • On: 02/09/2010 10:37:12
  • In: Slapshot

  • Little Robby the Weatherboy

    By Carter Clews

    Suppose you were trudging through (or, worse yet, shoveling out of) two-to-three feet of a record-setting snowfall (for the second time in ten weeks), and some idiot told you that it never snowed anymore in your neck of the woods – and worse yet, he knew the real reason: global warming.

    Well, if you live in the Washington, D.C., area, you’re the guy (or gal) knee-deep in white stuff. And that idiot is Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. That’s right, the snot-nose, spoiled-brat little know-it-all spawn of Bobby and Ethel who spent his childhood cascading down the snow-covered slopes of Hickory Hill — so the nanny or butler could pull his sleigh back up the snow-covered crest, with him perched imperiously upon it, no doubt.

    Here’s Little Bobby’s own account, written just 15 months ago, of his much-lamented marsh mellow world of yesteryear. I’ve bold-faced my favorite paragraph to make sure you don’t miss the trust-fund bantling’s afflatus (or, would that be effluvia?) as to what caused an end to his idyllic winter wonderland:

    “In Virginia, the weather also has changed dramatically. Recently arrived residents in the northern suburbs, accustomed to today’s anemic winters, might find it astonishing to learn that there were once ski runs on Ballantrae Hill in McLean, with a rope tow and local ski club. Snow is so scarce today that most Virginia children probably don’t own a sled. But neighbors came to our home at Hickory Hill nearly every winter weekend to ride saucers and Flexible Flyers.

    “In those days, I recall my uncle, President Kennedy, standing erect as he rode a toboggan in his top coat, never faltering until he slid into the boxwood at the bottom of the hill. Once, my father, Atty. Gen. Robert Kennedy, brought a delegation of visiting Eskimos home from the Justice Department for lunch at our house. They spent the afternoon building a great igloo in the deep snow in our backyard. My brothers and sisters played in the structure for several weeks before it began to melt. On weekend afternoons, we commonly joined hundreds of Georgetown residents for ice skating on Washington’s C&O Canal, which these days rarely freezes enough to safely skate.

    “Meanwhile, Exxon Mobil and its carbon cronies continue to pour money into think tanks whose purpose is to deceive the American public into believing that global warming is a fantasy.”

    Now, I’ll let you pause a second to contemplate Little Robby’s revelry – including the highly unlikely imagery of Uncle President “standing erect” as he rode a toboggan (which can reach speeds of 15 to 20 miles per hour on an average slope) whilst “never faltering.” Really, Robby, not even an occasional shift of weight or bended knee? Sounds like brother David wasn’t the only member of the RFK clan snorting the white stuff.

    But, let’s get back to the bottom line. Just think, were it not for those big nasty meanies at Exxon Mobil – and their “carbon cronies” (a catchy alliteration no doubt supplied by one of Little Robby’s highly paid ghost writers) – there would still be snow at Hickory Hill, Ballantrae Hill, and all of the other in-crowd hot spots where Little Robby, Uncle President, Daddy Attorney General, and the inevitable Eskimos used to frolic in the fresh-fallen cover. (All of this while we gloveless waifs watched in envy, longing for the days when global warming would prevent us from freezing our keisters off.)

    Let’s face it: Robert Kennedy is an idiot. When he is not cutting backroom deals with El Dictador Supremo Hugo Chavez to make millions on phony oil-for-the-oiless scams, he is flying around the world in his private jet to admonish us all for wasting energy. But, wherever he is, you can be sure there is one place he isn’t: out in the parking lot with you shoveling out from under two-to-three feet of snow he assures us all doesn’t really exist. Punk.

    Carter Clews is the Executive Editor of ALG News.


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