Written By : Ron Coleman

We took our kids to the Norwalk Maritime Aquarium last weekend, and forked over a bunch of dollars so they could see an IMAX film about the Grand Canyon. It was, in many respects, a real pleasure. The awesomeness of God’s creation was well depicted in the soaring photography, and we learned a lot about what is unquestionably a real problem: The death of the Colorado River and the serious threat arising from the strain of the water supply in the American west. For some reason I cannot fathom, some people insist on living in the desert, and whaddya know — they’re out of water.

But the propaganda of it was so heavy-handed that it really spoiled the presentation. The pagan anthropomorphizing of “The River” plus the breathless deference to the deep wisdom of a local Indian woman who is a park ranger and lives basically on the muddy river was almost unbearable. But nothing was so annoying as the whining voice and self-righteous countenance of the Scion of the Slain Sainted Kennedy himself, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.

Frankly his contributions to the narrative were not all that much worse than those of the narrator Robert Redford or “environmentalist” Wade Davis. But what was galling was the use of a particularly specious “appeal to authority” by the insertion of newsreel clips of the his assassinated father (who was murdered by the Palestinian terrorist who was the object of a book dedication that recently made no mainstream-media news) and who, he says, took him on a rafting trip on the Colorado as a young child. Whenever things would get slow, or Kennedy would have something kind of out-there to assert, they’d stick in some of this newsreel stuff as if to suggest that, why, RFK himself was making this point, from Heaven. It was icky.

Well, guess who’s coming to dinner: Walter Olson reports that this self-same clown, whose credibility on matters of policy is, as Walter demonstrates, utterly tattered if anyone will even look at the actual substantive record, is up for the job of heading the EPA. He’s not the only one worried about that prospect.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily….

Cross-posted on Likelihood of Success.

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