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Agenda 21 and me

A confession (part 1)



It is hard to remember now—conspiring takes its toll on the ol’ noggin—but I think I first met Ban Ki-moon at a pagoda in a park in Brooklyn. We gave each other the one world government salute, which is sort of like a high-five only it’s done telepathically in perfect stillness.

Soon we were strolling among the shaggy hipsters, sipping herbal smoothies and speaking in Esperanto. Though we had never met before, I was an old family friend of the Secretary General’s, having spent several youthful summers dorming with his nephew at propaganda camp in the Catskills.

That initial meeting took place maybe four or five years ago, before “sustainability” had been turned into an ugly scare word like “liberal” or “fudge,” and those of us who were devout enviro-socialists still had stars in our eyes with wild dreams of sidewalks, bike lanes, and density.

At some point, the Secretary General handed me a thick binder, a green arm-band, and a feather. In a voice devoid of emotion, he said, “We are going to cure the sick appetite of America with its morbidly obese conception of freedom and its sprawling mastery of vulgar materialism.”

I smiled and reached back to tighten the ponytail of my toupee. Both of us stroked our Trotskyist chin hair and let some joggers pass.

He continued: “These citizens, we will seize their immunization records, round them up, and force them into tiny apartments above Laundromats and thrift stores. We will make them surrender their automobiles and their Bibles and their commemorative coins of the Founding Fathers.”

My straw scraped the bottom of my smoothie and I had to go to the bathroom really, really badly, so I said in a hurried voice, “How?”

The Secretary General tapped the numbers embossed on the binder and winked.

Agenda 21. Yes, it was like a revelation in a movie about revelations, only this was not a movie, though there was a dude playing Frisbee who looked suspiciously like Keanu Reeves.

Agenda 21—my first introduction. The Secretary General had handed me quite a weapon, like a knife without a blade that lacks a handle.

I couldn’t wait to get back home to absorb myself in all 40 glorious chapters. In my yoga classes I would whisper, “ICLEI, ICLEI, ICLEI,” until my contorting companions would finally ask what it meant or politely tell me to shut the hell up.

Many months later, when I was fully indoctrinated, when I shaved the beard from my face and shed the toupee, I would meet with clusters of planners, climate scientists, urban buskers, and other cosmopolitan elites with an interest in vivisecting the Constitution in the name of power and new profit centers.

By then, the Agenda was spreading through the country—not like wildfire, there was already plenty of that—no, it spread more slowly, like a blood stain on the white tablecloth of rural America.

How do you know you’re a redneck? If phrases like smart growth and walkable community make you shudder and reach for your shotgun.

Hicks, hillbillies, patriots—the strongest must be battled first, says Sun Tzu. Pepper them like chickens, says General Tsao.

And that’s what has been happening.

O Dear Reader, this is but the beginning of my confession. There is so much I must still relate. Like: the links to 9/11. Like: the false flag ops of bike month. Such as: Obama’s Martian past. But for now, please begin forgiving me my sins. The backlash has been bringing me so much clarity.  Already I have begun to see the unintended benefits of pollution and drought … .  

Adam Hill represents the 3rd District on the SLO County Board of Supervisors. Send comments to the executive editor at rmiller@newtimesslo.com.


-- Adam Hill - San Luis Obispo County supervisor, San Luis Obispo

-- Adam Hill - San Luis Obispo County supervisor, San Luis Obispo

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