It's back once again, my friends. The annual event in which you can publicly proclaim whether you are on the side of civilization or some backwards religion, "Earth Hour," is upon us. Being the public service sort of guy that I am, I will present a simple guide that anyone can use to decide which side they wish to represent.
If you wish to side with the people who view humanity as an infestation, who would prefer the days when all but the richest of mankind feared the night and huddled behind walls and gates after the sun went down, then you should turn off all of your lights tonight at 8:30 local time. You should also then spend the next hour contemplating the pain that your existence inflicts on the Goddess Gaia. Actual self-flagellation is not required, but highly encouraged.
That's for the little people only, of course. One percenters who are up to date with their eco-indulgences are naturally excused.
On the other hand, there are those of us who recognize the blessings that our recent ancestors bequeathed to us with the internal combustion engine and a power grid that allows us to vanquish darkness and time-consuming and tedious toil with the flip of a switch. Many of their ancestors spent most of their lives toiling at those tasks that we take for granted today.
I don't know about you, but just as an example, I'm profoundly grateful that for clean clothes I don't have to use the washboard and clothes-wringer that my grandmother still had in her basement, though no longer used, when I was a kid. Ditto for having to spend hours each day gathering fuel to cook with or heat my home.
So if you are not into self-flagellation and self-indulgent pseudo-religions, let your neighbors know and turn on as many lights, inside and outside, as you can at 8:30 local time tonight. Let your neighbors know that you stand by civilization and the advancements that have turned most of us from a people simply scrambling to survive into a society that has time for intellectual and leisure pursuits that were undreamed of 100 years ago.
Pissing off that sour-faced jackass across the street is just gravy.