My mama says they make Danish jelly out of cow balls, man. Eating that's like giving a heifer a hummer.

So I handed out lyrics by Allan Sherman, the shticky 1960s parody writer who my father revered and channeled to the end.

It was only when the rain stopped and the smell of the raat rani came pouring into the room that Arindam got up to leave.

After all, once the public connects the dots between fossil fuel pollution, climate change disinformation, and the burning urgency of its consequences, Murdoch and his fossil fueled friends will be seen as the true arsonists: climate arsonists.