Al Gore Is a Greenhouse Gasbag

Gieg is situated at a lectern in the pit of an amphitheater classroom. As the seats fill, he fiddles with his Mac laptop, where he has stored a PowerPoint presentation that covers today's lecture. Before that, though, he runs a short clip from a Simpsons episode in which Bart and Lisa argue over whether water drains in different directions in the Southern and Northern hemispheres. Though Gieg has long been known as an entertaining lecturer, he's not The Simpsons. The students laugh out loud at the clip, as does their professor. When the lights come back on, the professor assures them: "Bart will probably not be on the final."

The class is a typical-seeming group, heavy on girls, some of whom wear ripped jeans and do-rags, others of whom are carefully made up and snappily dressed, pulling their notebooks from designer bags. Midway through the class, Gieg says, "Now it's time for us to talk about the number one political/environmental issue of our time." He reads a snippet from a New York Times editorial about the Supreme Court global-warming case.

"What I'm going to try to do the rest of today and also probably on Tuesday is bring you up to date on this. I'll try to avoid editorializing or politicking. I'll just tell you some stuff. Give you information. There's lot's of stuff, and it's very complicated."

Gieg gazes upward toward his young charges. "Every single one of you knows more about this than Al Gore," he tells the undergrads. "And vastly more than anyone in this present administration."


YOU REMEMBER AL GORE. Congressman, then senator from a political dynasty in Tennessee. Vice president for the eight years of the Clinton administration. President-elect of the United States for about 10 minutes, before being waylaid by the dangling chad. Since his bitter, disputed loss to George W. Bush, Gore has gone through some changes. He tried sporting a beard, reinvented himself as a media entrepreneur, hosted Saturday Night Live, gained a lot of weight. Then, last May, he burst back into the public eye as the star of a surprisingly successful documentary on global warming called An Inconvenient Truth. In a way that sometimes happens in America, Al Gore has come to personify an issue that until recently, most of us didn't know we needed to know or care about. Oprah calls him "our Noah." But if she's going to get all ancient on us, Cassandra might be the better comparison.

Gore's film has become the third highest grossing documentary ever, way behind Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 but closing in on number two, the equally surprising March of the Penguins. An Inconvenient Truth is basically the video of a PowerPoint presentation that Gore had been giving for years, jazzed up with animation and film clips, but weighted by some treacly autobiographical segments that seem to have been left over from an Al Gore for President campaign film.

The new Al Gore, visibly more relaxed and likable than during his last campaign, basically says this:

---