Richard Littlemore has the news of Christopher Monckton’s egregiously long and ill-conceived response to John Abraham, Monckton exposes his rebuttal: So much blather; so little substance. (See John Abraham dismantles Monckton, Abraham vs Monckton, Round 2, Abraham replies to Monckton, and Abraham, Monckton, and the rest of us: Time to rumble for a refresher on this slow-motion train wreck.)
From Littlemore’s piece:
The motor-mouth Monckton – which is to say, Christopher Walter, the Third Viscount Monckton of Brenchley – has authored a 48,000-word Response to John Abraham (attached). It is a breathless and libelous screed that can lead to only one certain conclusion: the good Lord doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
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Monckton is outraged (which appears to be a permanent condition – either outraged or outrageous). In a response that goes on for 99 tiresome pages, he calls Abraham a liar, and accuses him of bad faith, malice and academic dishonesty. The Viscount then insists that Abraham and his unversity atone for their sins by paying $110,000 in “damages” to a charity of Monckton’s own choosing. This is couched as some kind of libel action in the court of public opinion – the only court where Monckton dare step: he’d be laughed out of town (and found libel for costs) if he tried any of this nonsense before even the most sympathetic judge.
Click through for more detail and, if your stomach can stand the stress, the actual document.
I think we’re now entering the Bizarro World phase of this situation. That’s not a comment on the content of Monckton’s responses, although I’m sure it would be accurate, based on his prior revolting stunts like calling people “Hitler youth”. No, what I’m referring to how each “side” in this never ending debate will perceive the goings on. The deep-purple wackaloons among the deniers will no doubt think Monckton is “making good points” and “winning the debate” and who knows what other form of public mental masturbation they can conjure up, while the sane people among the realists (that’s us, in case you lost your score card in the couch cushions) will consider it yet further proof that Monckton’s oil no longer reaches his dipstick, his elevator doesn’t make it to the top floor, his cheese slipped from his cracker, or possibly that he’s just a garden variety attention monger who is forced by his own despicable ideology to reject any collective action to minimize the impacts of climate change.
