If the global warming alarmists really want us to start listening to their gloomy projections, it would behoove them to find better spokespeople. Quickly.

A few weeks ago, it was actor John Travolta who encouraged the British to “do their bit” for global warming. "It [global warming] is a very valid issue," he declared at the London premiere for his film Road Hogs. "I'm wondering if we need to think about other planets and dome cities.”

I’m not sure where he was going with this one, but it sounds like he’s been watching too many episodes of The Jetsons. And if temperature and carbon dioxide are our problems here on Earth, then both Mars (atmosphere of 95% carbon dioxide; mean temperature of -46C) and Venus (96.5% carbon dioxide; mean temperature 461C) are probably not the answer.

This nonsense, of course, comes from a guy who flies his private jet wherever he goes. Travolta excused any apparent hypocrisy here, saying, "I use them as a business tool, though, as others do. I think it's part of this industry – otherwise I couldn't be here doing this and I wouldn't be here now."

There are ways, of course, to get to London without flying a private jet. I’ve done it. It’s called coach. And if “business” or “industry” use gives everyone a pass when it comes to carbon footprints, we wouldn’t have much to discuss on global warming. After all, aren’t coal-fired electric plants, steel mills, and even Joe Six-pack’s 15-mile commute in an SUV all business or industry use?

This week, chanteuse Sheryl Crow entered the fray with suggestions even more bizarre than Travolta’s. Finishing up a global warming awareness tour with producer Laurie David, Crow posted some of her musings on the tour blog:

”I propose a limitation be put on how many squares of toilet paper can be used in any one sitting. Now, I don't want to rob any law-abiding American of his or her God-given rights, but I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where 2 to 3 could be required.” (The urge to delve into the scatological here is almost overwhelming, but I will resist. Still, I don’t get it. First the star-studded Global Cool outfit suggested that we share a bath with a friend; now Crow wants to monitor how much Cottonelle I go through? What do these people have against personal hygiene?)

It’s mind-boggling that the some left-of-center blowhard who rails against government intruding into the bedroom (Crow has campaigned for abortion rights) has no problem suggesting that it intrude into our bathroom. And I wonder if Crow paused to consider the practical implications of her suggestion. How does one regulate this? Does two-ply count at double the rate? Who gets to define what makes a “pesky occasion?”

In any case, count me out if the Uncle Sam is hiring for the monitoring job any time soon.

Simply brimming with creative ideas for saving our virgin forests, Crow also offered a solution called the “dining sleeve:”

”The sleeve is detachable and can be replaced with another ‘dining sleeve,’ after usage. The design will offer the diner the convenience of wiping his mouth on his sleeve rather than throwing out yet another barely used paper product. I think this idea could also translate quite well to those suffering with an annoying head cold.”

So, now we have to walk around with snot and pasta sauce on our arms. Great. Could we just go with cloth napkins and handkerchiefs, instead? Or perhaps the bib can move beyond the realm of lobster and spareribs?

There has to be a better way to save the planet.

I’m sure that both Crow and Travolta mean well. But when their proposed solutions, whether it’s the snot sleeve or everyone working at Spacely’s Sprockets, are so ridiculous as to be instant fodder for the late-night talk circuit, it shows a certain detachment from reality.

Simply put, what the heck are they thinking?

Whether or not global warming is truly a planetary crisis, I’m sure most people would gladly do what they could to conserve energy and resources, if only as a practical, money-saving measure. It would be nice, however, to see the movement’s glitterati spokespeople offer suggestions that actually make some sense.

Because living on Mars without any Kleenex just doesn’t sound appealing.