Long before Early Man invented fire and hammers, he was using the most rudimentary tool of all – pretending to like the environment to pick up women.  Even in college, I occasionally told girls that I belonged to Greenpeace in order to see if they’d investigate the global warming in my drawers.  (It even worked from time to time – once every two years, like clockwork.)

A few weeks ago, I went to a concert and ended up at a bar with some sort-of co-workers.  Immediately, a bearded greaseball standing at the bar came over and started chatting up a comely young member of our group.  She asked this guy what he did for a living, and it gave him the opening he needed.  He handed her one of his business cards, and he told her he “owned his own business.”  When prodded further, he said this business was a “green painting business.”  (I asked him why he didn’t have any other colors.)

But of course, he meant he used “green” paint, as in “environmentally conscious” paint.  So what had traditionally been a pretty nondescript college job has now been turned into pious crusade by this young entrepreneur.  He explained that all his paint was “green” because it didn’t have any lead in it – never mind the fact that no paint manufacturer has put lead in their paint for over 30 years.  (The girl he was talking to is pretty conservative, so she jokingly told him the more lead the paint had in it, the better.)

So with this encounter, I officially declare the “green” movement to have jumped the shark.  (Much like using the term “jumped the shark” has jumped the shark.)  It’s now official – you can literally throw the word “green” in front of anything and make it seem like you’re a crusader for the environment.  And girls eat it up.

So I’m fine with this guy trying to spin his crappy job into some booty.  But he owes royalties to those of us who paved the way over the span of decades by lying to women about our environmental credentials in order to make out with them.  Somewhere up in heaven, there’s some dude who chained himself to a tree in 1678, and had women doing his laundry for him for the next 30 years.  A little respect, please.

(When this environmental BS finally falls out of fashion again, my recommended pickup line to girls would be, “do you like the internet?”)