My student "Bill" is a treat.  He smiles the length of an ear of corn.  He is energetic, like ethanol should be.

He is also a big global warming fan.  He has replaced God with carbon dioxide.  He has a million reasons for glaciers melting and polar bears dying.  He believes that warming is man-made.  The universe is heated by the car.  If only we could perfect electric cars and the Volt didn't catch fire.

I don't like to discuss global warming with Bill when we are boxing; I have brain damage, after all, and am not supposed to get hit in the head.  We spar for the body only.  I try to break his ribs, but I no longer have the power.

Bill is so naïve about au courant political correctness that I'd like to hurt him into a realization that the universe is larger than a coal mine -- that man is a pawn, not the king, on a chessboard of his own demise.

I want to tell him that global warming probably isn't man-made and that our fear of it is bankrupting the country, what with closing down coal mines and building costly solar panels, windmills, and stupid electric cars.  Global warming distracts us from the necessity of fracking, drilling, and developing nuclear energy.

Bill chases green energy -- an expensive alternative to nothing, a failed dream.  The color green is jealousy of energies that really work.  He promotes ethanol, which reduces corn supplies, raises the price of meat, and increases carbon monoxide more than oil.  Bill feels that he is so right about everything that is wrong.

"It's not global warming that's so bad," I say.  "It's the money we waste on stopping it that can bankrupt us, cause a revolution, and ruin our country."  I uppercut Bill's left rib.

He groans and throws a straight right at my chest.  I block it.  "Most scientists believe in global warming."

"Most scientists in the late sixties believed in The Population Bomb."  I pull an uppercut just before it smashes into his nose.

"I have young children, and I'm worried that global warming will kill them."  Bill breaks the rules and tries to hit me in the head.  It could kill me.  He misses.

"You should be more worried that Obama will bankrupt the country and we will have a revolution," I say.  "Obama is weakening our defenses through sequestration so that China or Russia destroys us."

I belt him in the belly.  He thinks through his appetite for political correctness.  Everything is digested through left-wing politics. 

I can see that Bill is tempted to belt me in the head again.  Liberals are like that.  They play by the rules unless the rules contradict their ideologies.  They are stuck in their viewpoints like thumbs in plums.

"Don't you see that you are backing Exxon and the oil companies?" he asks.

"Exxon has less of a profit margin than a sporting goods store.  And what about Al Gore, who left the vice presidency broke and has earned over two hundred million dollars?  What about Solyndra and all the solar energy companies who have spent the taxpayers' good money?  What about biofuels and algae that are bankrupting the Navy?  The global warming crew are snake oil salesmen.  They steal from us and promise us eternal safety.  They distract us from nuclear war and real problems."

"Obama cares about the environment," Bill says.

"That's his problem.  He was elected to improve the economy and get people jobs.  Instead, he concentrated on bankrupting biofuels.  He could have given out thousands of jobs on the Keystone XL line, but he was worried about phony environmental concerns."

Bill lands a glancing blow on my head.  He can't stand intelligent refutation or dialogue.  I let it pass.  I don't care.  Even if I went brain-dead, I would have more creativity than Bill.  He's stuck in his ideology like an obsessive-compulsive in a cliché.  His cognitive set is sophomoric global warming.  Bill's self-righteous self-confidence is just another way of describing his failure to be open-minded.  He typifies the soft-mindedness of liberal apathy.  He is the pseudo-charitable heart that ends up punching.  And yet I like him.

Am I crazy?  No, I am living in a divisive world headed by childish, prejudiced Obama.  He has fractured the world into groups of hatred.  He has fragmented America into segmented political pockets of division.  He has made Americans hate each other over his silly little ideas rather than embrace each other as brothers in the same country.  A groupie America gets high on Obama.  It's Obama's ambition to divide the country and segregate off his benighted contingency of voters like millions of sheep in a field.

Obama has not lived up to his promise of joining the country as red, white, and blue. He has smashed the prism and made the splinters of glass cut everyone around them.  We are bleeding economically and culturally.  His lies do not salve us.  Poverty and Obama's reinstitution of racism hurt us.  The Ku Klux Klan has not brought back racism; Obama, a half-black man, has brought back its divisiveness.

When Bill and I get out of the ring, we go back into my office, and he says, "I'm going to send you an e-mail about a global warming denier who now believes in it."

"I'm going to send you an e-mail about a president who believed in himself so much that he failed," I say.

Bill smirks.  "Who wrote that?"

"Honesty, thine name is David," I say.  "See you Friday at two."

"I don't know why I take lessons from such a right-winger," Bill says.

"Maybe because I fought pro.  Or maybe because you feel in your heart of hearts that I might just be right."

"Never."

"See you Friday."