X out of 10

Look, I’m a huge proponent of protecting the planet. I’m all for utilizing the advanced technologies we have perfected in recent years (superefficient solar power and less-scary nuclear power spring immediately to mind), as well as adopting regulations that are both realistic and market-friendly (”Whaaa?” you say, “market-friendly environmental regulations?!” Yes, there is such a thing, but that’s a different matter for a different time).

With that said, I’ve never been a fan of pro-environment groups like Greenpeace, who seem to be more about protecting the image of Greenpeace than about protecting the environment. Their moronic publicity stunts have left a permanently sour taste in my mouth. But I figured they had less-obnoxious older brothers in groups like the Sierra Club. I’m just beginning to realize, however, that the Sierra Club is not Greenpeace’s less-obnoxious older brother—rather, it is the older brother with pre-senile dementia and a diminished sense of self-worth that borders on the pitiful. How can I possibly make such assertions about America’s oldest environmental organization? If it please the jury, I’d like to present Exhibit A, a photograph of a membership solicitation package, which I seem to receive in the mail every other month, but have never once requested (click the thumbnail to the left to see a full-sized version).

Does anything in that photo make you go “hmmmm”? I’ll give you a hint—this is a group that seeks to “Explore, enjoy, and protect the wild places of the earth, practice and promote the responsible use of the earth’s ecosystems and resources, [and] educate and enlist humanity to protect and restore the quality of the natural and human environment,” according to their Wikipedia article. Got it yet?

That’s right: these self-proclaimed champions of the environment have been sending me unsolicited membership packages containing 13 separate documents made (presumably) from trees. And they’ve been doing so with borderline-annoying frequency. I can’t help but wonder how many people send these packages straight to the circular file, causing to die in vain the very trees the group should be trying to protect (for the record, I’ve recycled all the recyclable bits from every one of these packages I’ve received).

So what does this little bundle of tree-killin’ joy contain? As you can see, I labeled all of the components in the photograph, but I’m beginning to realize that the odds of anyone actually giving a shit are slim to nil. That said, I’ll spare you the comprehensive breakdown and just call out some highlights. Items I and K talk reverently and unironically about the mighty sequoia, which I find hilarious because the pieces are printed on heavy card stock made (again, presumably) from trees. Item F offers me a free backpack if I join today, causing me to wonder how much membership money is left over after all of the club’s mass-mailings and new member giveaways. Item J is a sticker to put in your vehicle’s window (I’m pretty sure I don’t need to point out the irony there). And last but not least, the most bestest item in the entire package, Item L (marked with three exclamation points in the illustration because it is so, SO cool): an adhesive calendar strip to place on my PC keyboard! Joy of joys! My membership check is in the mail!

X = 0.9, ’cause their hearts are in the right place, but their minds are nowhere to be found.

(I cannot guarantee this is the last time I blog about my junk mail, but I’ll try not to do it again).