As a lobbyist for Exxon Mobil, I understand that many of you are upset about our role in the planet’s rapid deterioration due to climate change. I get it. I, too, would be upset, if I wasn’t already guaranteed a spot on Elon’s Mars Colony and its corresponding escape pod. I’m here today with a simple request: stop yelling at us.
Listen, you’re unhappy, but so am I. This week has been really stressful: first I got punked by a bunch of no-good “activists” who tricked me into taking a fake meeting, then they tried to “cancel” me and my employer by releasing footage of the meeting. Now you’re yelling at me to do something about it, and Exxon’s yelling at me to make it look like we did something about it. It’s all very annoying and I just want to hang out at my Hamptons house while Congress does the dirty work for us.
Did we agree to support the Paris Climate Agreement? Yes. Did we cross our fingers when we did it? Maybe. We have courageously battled single-handedly against science, and science created the atomic bomb and nerve gas. So, you’re welcome.
Since the cat’s out of the bag, you might as well know that getting thirteen senators in our pocket was just the start. A baker’s dozen of senators is great, but you know what’s even more satisfying? Buying the entire bakery and turning it into a national chain of deep fried nacho pizza fast food.
You’ll just have to settle for closure in the form of knowing that we won’t rest until the entire United States government is in our pocket. Also, since when is being in the pocket of big oil such a problem? It’s been the calling card of a good legislator, on both sides of the aisle for decades now. I thought you liberal ladies all loved pockets!
You will be comforted to know that someone will probably lose their job because of your public ridicule. Who? Not me, some intern.
Really, the despair you’re feeling is your own fault. In fact, just because of your whining, we’re going to murder an extra polar bear this week. See? All this hasn’t done anything to stop humanity’s impending doom. Think about next time you try another one of your “gotcha” moments.
If you’re really so upset, maybe it’s because you haven’t come to accept your own mortality. We here at Exxon have built it into the core of our company: one day, not so far away now, everything is going to reach it’s (somewhat) natural conclusion. Until then, all we can do is sit back, relax, and become billionaires. If this is all going to literally go up in flames, I would like to face the end of the world on my private yacht or island or human hunting preserve.
You all should really find better ways to accept the harsh realities of our inevitable demise, rather than just yelling on Twitter, which btw is really harshing my summer vibes right now. For example, I spend my Wednesday nights catching up on the phone with my old poker buddy Joe Manchin. Who’s to say we’re chatting about oil and not which senators are watching Survivor, or who we should invite to our next game? Oil only comes up, like, 75% of the time. The rest is just buddies hanging out and running out the clock.
Let’s be real: sure, whole coasts are on fire, people are starving, we’re running out of clean water, and there’s a fiery pit to hell in the middle of the ocean in Mexico; regardless, time continues onward in a march towards oblivion. Read some Schopenhauer, do some coke, whatever you need to as long as it doesn’t involve me. Now if you can leave me alone, I’ll be in the Cayman Islands, protecting my assets and enjoying palm trees while they still exist. Cheers!