Mother Nature’s got a barcode tattooed on her inner thigh. Happened one night when she was sleeping off a drunk of lush waterfalls and greenery. Government meanies crept in, stoked up the money gun, got to work selling off pieces of the sweet lady. When she awoke, she flipped her wig with rising sea levels, tidal waves, declining sea ice. Some people claim climate change isn’t real, and all news is fake. Let ’em go face to face with Mother Nature, I say. Her heat-trappin’ CO2 brutes mean business. Not the business of selling off nature. More like the business of, Do you want your tombstone in marble or granite?