Now before you self-styled environmentalists throw a fit, know this: I offset all my travel by trading for credits at Gladropes, my local hemp crafts store and carbon exchange. I found a nice gentleman whom for some reason wanted all my old underwear in exchange for 5,000 gallons of effluence for my personal methane-capture still.

Though I had to breathe into a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating every time I looked out at the plane’s fuel-guzzling engines, I did enjoy the flight. I can’t say the same for my neighbor, who kept gagging and running to the bathroom. The poor fellow was so embarrassed that he made up some story about being allergic to patchouli.

Once I arrived, I made a concerted effort to look like a Vail skier. I wore carefully constructed fake fur boots and a hemp parka, with big sunglasses and an air of superiority that, oddly enough, came very naturally to me.

Of course, I wasn’t there to ski; I was there to gauge the health of the lynx population and visit a personal shrine: The burned-down-by-ecoterrorists-but-then-reconstructed-with-even-more-wood-than-before Two Elk Lodge.

The first Two Elk was burned by the brave soldiers of the Environmental Liberty Foundation or the Encouragement of Lynx Freedom or the Eschewing of Lousy Food; I can’t remember. I could Google it, but that takes carbon. In any case, it was burned down to protest the planned expansion of Vail into prime lynx habitat. No matter that a lynx hadn’t been seen in Colorado since 1973; the ELF knew one might wander into town someday and courageously burned a lot of wood to give it a warm welcome.

To visit the restaurant and lynx habitat, I had to ski, which is difficult and conspicuous in hemp. The bitter cold forced me to wear a hat made of wool. Thoughts of the denuding and oppression of sheep made me so upset that I stayed quite warm all day.

Vail is entirely wind-powered, which makes me sick when I think of all the co-ops and naturopathic medical clinics that could use that energy. I made my disapproval clear to all who rode the chairlift with me by constantly rolling my eyes and clucking. I could sense solidarity in the ones who didn’t quickly ski away from me once we reached the top.

I felt I should canvass the entire ski area in my search for lynx, so I tackled the back bowls and some awesome tree runs in an effort to be thorough. But I promise I didn’t enjoy it.

I also didn’t find any lynx. However, I am now satisfied that if one shows up, it will feel welcome. Until it’s caught and skinned for a Bogner parka.

I’m a skeinavore. I only eat foods from within 100 yards.

Now, let's make one thing clear: I would rather not eat at all. Every time I do, I feel immense guilt about the methane I produce. Did you know that the average person produces 2 liters of gas a day? The shame of it keeps me up at night.

But even a carbon-negative person like me has to take in calories. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here to point out and counteract all the wasteful, thoughtless things you people do.

Since I am forced to ingest biomatter, I’ve developed some easy-to-follow eating guidelines with our habitorb in mind. A Carbon-Negative Diet, if you will. So for those eager to learn the secret to staying thin and green, here, in a nutshell, is my diet:

• Things that come from my immediate vicinity.
• Things that died a natural death after a long, happy life.
• Things that I find.
• Things that don't produce methane. The following list of gas-generators is completely forbidden:

• Asparagus
• Broccoli
• Brussels sprouts
• Cabbage
• Cauliflower
• Corn
• Cucumbers
• Kohlrabi
• Leeks
• Onions
• Peas
• Peppers
• Radishes
• Sauerkraut
• Turnips
• Carbonated drinks
• Beer
• Red wine
• Sugar substitutes
• Apples
• Beans
• Dairy products
• Eggs
• Wheat
• Melons
• Apricots
• Prunes
• Olestra

This leaves, basically, hemp, soy, some ancient grains, and Chicken McNuggets®, but only if they fall to the ground in front of me. If every American followed my simple plan, obesity would be a thing of the past. We could curtail our methane production, shut down the cattle industry (indeed, all farming as we know it), and save billions in fuel and plus-size clothing. But of course you won’t. You’ll keep driving your Prius to Whole Foods and enjoying your tasty groceries. Fine; more spelt for me.

Allow me to begin by saying that the Oscars are a bloated display of lopsided wealth and navel gazing. But I love fashion. There’s nothing that makes me feel as good as donning a well-cut hemp pinafore over a clean, crisp unbleached organic cotton tee, my long kitty-cat earrings just brushing the tops of my shoulders. Which is why I read with interest the Oscar red carpet round-up Monday in someone else’s copy of the local paper. Once that person threw the paper down and ran away, I could really delve into the sartorial splendor that is Hollywood’s biggest event.

And I was not disappointed. Well, I was disappointed in the sheer waste of silk. And the fabrics that were obviously chemically processed. But I was not disappointed in the wealth of things to shake my head at. And believe me, I shook my head long and hard (not too hard; that’s a carbon suck) when I learned that An Inconvenient Truth won an Academy Award® for best documentary.

That movie puts me off my tempeh, with its hopeful ending and upbeat can-do message. I haven’t seen it, but I know enough about it to condemn it outright. It’s a salve for people who want to believe they can alter the history of our ecosphere by driving a Prius and reusing paper bags. They can’t. Their mere existence all but guarantees the doom of carbon-negative earth lovers like myself.

Here we are, drowning our glorious eco-orb with globo-refuse, and Al Gore’s mincing around about how we might all get our feet a little wet if we don’t consider driving smaller cars and turning off the occasional light. He had a real opportunity to frighten the living crap out of everyone in the Western World, and he let it go. What a wuss. Give me an Orson Welles, who didn’t bat an eye when the American public wet its collective pants at his War of the Worlds broadcast.

Even the title leaves untapped fear and misery on the table. An Inconvenient Truth, indeed. How about ‘We’re All Going to Die And It’s Your Fault (I’m Talking To You, China)’? Imagine that coming out of Jerry Seinfeld’s mouth as he read the list of nominees.

But no, Al Gore chose to add to the atmosphere of waste at this year’s Oscars. Wasted resources, wasted fabric, wasted opportunities for worldwide guilt and abject fear. But I have to admit I liked Reese Witherspoon’s dress.

Lately everyone who isn’t Republican has been yammering on about “Carbon Neutrality,” as if that’s a goal we should all be striving for. Puh-leez. Carbon neutrality will do nothing to save our delicate ecoglobe. If we all went carbon-neutral right now, things would just stay the way they are: The polar bears would still be doing the breast stroke, the weather would still be wreaking havoc, and George Bush would still be president.

As usual, I take this problem more seriously than everyone else. I believe I mentioned in my last column (and if you’d been reading carefully I wouldn’t have to repeat myself, which takes carbon) that I am carbon-negative. Well I am. And I’ll bet you’re not.

You’re sitting there at your computer and I’ll bet your power-save settings are not optimized. If they were, you wouldn’t be able to see this post because your screen would be black. And you call yourself an environmentalist. My screen is black. In fact, since I don’t use electricity for something as frivolous as light, I’m sitting here in the pitch dark, so it’s a good thing I am an expwrt typlst.

A lot of so-called environmentalists talk about getting “off the grid.” This is misguided at best. If I was off the grid, I couldn’t be carbon-negative, and the power company would never know how hard I am working. My photovoltaic cells and 50-foot wind turbine cause my electric meter’s dials to fly backwards. This also saves paper, as I don’t have to send any more self-congratulatory letters to the power company.

Though none of you so-called earth-lovers ever talk about it, personal outlook has a very real impact on carbon expenditure. I’ve done extensive ecovibe research, and have concluded that only mild unhappiness is carbon-negative. That’s why my mood ring is consistently black, and why I strive to maintain a state between melancholy and fully disgruntled.

So the next time you surf to the Terra Pass site to buy carbon offsets in a weak attempt at saving our habitorb, don’t be so happy about it, unless you plan to offset your happiness, too. Because joy and its thoughtless expression blows carbon like a Shanghai tour bus.