Last year, my aunt and uncle had to sell their almond ranch that had been in the family for generations because the price of water, which should be abundant enough in Northern California, skyrocketed because Southern California, which has far more voters, voted in the means to redistribute our states’s resources to fill their swimming pools. This was not the first family I know who lost their heritage from our water politics. I have watched this beautiful part of California get browner and browner throughout the decades because those in Southern California think it is more important to create lush greenery in a desert than it is to feed people.
My comment had nothing to do with people dying, and everything to do with the insanity of trying to create a paradise in a dry desert, and the greed it takes to do so.
The comment was hyperbole. Much like when I was at the zoo with my niece, and she fell in love with the elephants and asked me if she could have one. I told her, of course, I will buy her a million of them and she can have them in her room.
She laughed because she knew I wasn’t telling her that I was willing to put a million elephants, and her family’s life in danger. She didn’t call me a mass murderer of elephants because she recognized hyperbole.
I wasn’t expecting dialogue from that comment at all. It was flippant, sure, but the insult you found was in your own mind. You took offense and bludgeoned like a playground bully, assuming race had something to do with this issue, and now explain that you do so because you were called names. (Called names on the internet? Gasp! Tell me it isn’t so!)
I just find it ironic when someone jumps to delusions and spews venom, and then complains when their words are turned back on them.