ALEX: How long are you going to pout?

MICHAEL: Men don’t pout.

ALEX: Mmmmkay, slave to gender norms. Can we talk about the 29th yet?

MICHAEL: … I just don’t understand.

ALEX: The 29th. It’s the March Against Climate Change. Well, it seems they’ve decided to take a more positive approach and now it’s the March FOR Climate. And for good measure they’ve added in Jobs and Justice. I guess the climate wasn’t a big enough draw. Much like Sean Spicer at a decidedly denominational Egg Roll. You can bet your Boden-clad ass that people would turn out in droves were it in support of “Father Earth.” Oppressors.

MICHAEL: … It should have been me. I don’t understand why he didn’t chose me to join him for lunch on Earth Day and to fight invasive plants in the wooded wonders of New York.

ALEX: Oh, Christ. This again? Michael, we’ve been over this. Despite your decades long obsession, Jon Stewart doesn’t actually KNOW you. He didn’t NOT chose you. This isn’t some kind of slight. That’s how random drawings work. Wait… did you even enter?

MICHAEL: I shouldn’t have had to. He should have just… known. Just like he would have known exactly what sort of ancient grain I’d like sprouted in the bread of my organic, plant-based sandwich he lovingly made by hand for me. He would have written a little, witty commentary about my Omaze username in soy-based ink on my recycled, unbleached napkin. Then, as we returned to our work, our glistening muscles straining in tandem as we ripped kudzu vines from magnificent slate bedrock, our eyes would have met, an understanding would have been reached, and a lifetime friendship forged. But now that will never happen and I have to just accept my inevitable decline to Basic Bro-dom. I may as well throw on a pair of Crocs, grow a man bun, and Instagram a Unicorn Frappuccino selfie. What would do me in first, you think? The refined sugar, the artificial colors, or the humiliation?

ALEX: So not only did you spend Earth Day wallowing in self-pity rather than joining me in cleansing the riverbank of both trash AND negativity with the Reiki Rescue Squad or joining one of the local marches for Science, you didn’t even make a donation to recognize the day? We’re obviously overdue for another march.

MICHAEL: Fortunately, there’s one every weekend. No, thanks. Not even if Jon himself invited me.

ALEX: PUSH IT DOWN, MICHAEL. This is not the time for outrage fatigue. Do not let your Chi become complacent. We must press on. I’ll book us tickets on this weekend’s bus to D.C.

MICHAEL: I can’t. I can’t wake up at 4 AM on yet another Saturday to board yet another bus for yet another five-hour ride to slowly shuffle through our nation’s capital then re-board that same bus that now reeks of old kefir and paleo protein bars after sitting in the sun all day for yet another five-hour ride home. Also am I the only one who sees the irony in throngs of people burning fossil fuels to commute to a march intended to lessen the burning of fossil fuels?

ALEX: So this isn’t just about Jon?

No. I thought I had more staying power, more virility. I didn’t even make it 100 days.

ALEX: You aren’t done, my seditious stallion. Michael Moore says we have at least six years to go. You just need to rest. “Rest so that you can resist,” as they say.

MICHAEL: Since when do we put any stock in what “they” say?

ALEX: I’m talking about the other “they.” The good “they.” Not “they” as in “the man.” How about we stay home this weekend and have our own climate change cum Earth Day celebration? We can plant our Victory Garden. I’ll make up a bunch of jackfruit BBQ and we can pack sandwiches on sorghum flatbread to eat while sipping rooibos tea on the bench outside the community garden. If we build a trellis, we can train the bean vines to spell R-E-S-I-S-T in our own tiny anarchist art instillation. We can even bring our wireless earbuds and listen to S-Town while we dig in the dirt. And then when we get home, we’ll get properly dirty in the shower.

MICHAEL: Did I tell you that I’ve noticed our emergency stash of paper towels is disappearing? When we met Rosa, she was at that environmentally conscious service, Green Clean. Then, inevitably, they went out of business. When Rosa asked to stay on, it seemed like the best of both worlds – saving the planet AND supporting an immigrant with a living wage. But of course it was too good to be true. Remember when our cleaning person was that lily-white, gay dude who left his career at Goldman Sachs to tour with Yanni as a didgeridoo technician before starting his own housekeeping service? God I miss that. Immaculate floors and an immaculate conscience. Those were the Salad Bowl Days.

ALEX: Wow. No reaction to gratuitous innuendo? You really ARE in a dark place. Do you want me to read you more tweets about Bill O’Reilly getting fired? And when the hell were the Salad Bowl Days?

MICHAEL: You know, back when it was safe to eat produce. Thanks to Pruitt and his revoking of bans on nerve-altering pesticides, those days are gone. Remember when our biggest worry about pesticides was their effect on bees?

ALEX: Oh, we’re still worried about that. I just signed another petition. Maybe we should have an apiary at the cottage! Do you think we could find a lawn service that wouldn’t mind? Speaking of which, should I sign up for the CSA again this year or do you think our community plot will be enough?

MICHAEL: I don’t think I can handle another four months of heirloom rutabaga and garlic scape omelets. I never know what half of that stuff is. The other half rots in the fridge before we manage to eat it. Last night I caught up on back episodes of Bill Maher and now in addition to Syria, I get to add Nigeria, Somalia, Sudan, and Yemen to my list of places where drought, famine, and civil war are ending countless lives. All those wilted greens just remind me of starving children.

ALEX: I’m two steps ahead of you! I ordered a chest freezer and one of those vacuum sealing system things with a solar adaptor from Amazon.

MICHAEL: One of those seems more helpful than the other in the event of a Nuclear Winter.

ALEX: That’s it. No social media or NPR for at least 24 hours. And we’ll even skip the March for Immigrants the following weekend.

MICHAEL: If there even IS a following weekend. For the first time I can remember, it actually seems in the country’s best interest for Congress to reject the proposed budget and to shut all government down.

ALEX: We have GOT to snap you out of this. How about I throw on my RBG dissent collar, some vegan gladiator sandals and some biodegradable body glitter? Then we’ll research local events. Not all our gestures have to be grand, “go big or go home” scenarios, Michael. It’s not the size of your protest, it’s your conviction to the cause.

MICHAEL: Are you trying to cheer me up with a version of the, “It’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean,” cliché’?

ALEX: That depends, did it work?

MICHAEL: Grab your collar and the iPad. We’ll find some sister marches. Then after we sync our iCalendars, we can play a little “Eruption of the Proletariat.”

ALEX: Now THAT I could do for 100 days.