Fortunately, global warming will only ruin the polar bear's ice floe, but will not affect the Klondike bar's deliciousness level.

Sigh … seems like it was only yesterday that Gov. Jim Gibbons was a hearty skeptic of global warming. “What is this … globe you speak of?” he would say, using the forked end of his scepter to spear another jalapeno popper from the snack bucket sitting at the foot of his throne.

OK, he never said that, but he was certainly leery of this whole global warming hoax-theory-hypothewhatevz when he told a group of scientists and industry hacks in 2007 to study the issue in Nevada and recommend ways to curb greenhouse gas emissions. Being in a drought-prone unforgiving desolation-wracked merciless desert and all, you know, it seemed like a good idea.

The report finally came out this week. And what does this yearlong smartypants huddle have to offer? Not solutions, that’s fersher. Something more like Solutions Lite Now With 20 Percent More Bland Noncommitment.

Sure, it proposes a few heartwarmers such as a clean-fuel bus fleet and incentives for developers and consumers of biodiesel fuel and more energy-efficient building codes. But they really miss the mark when they, oh, say nada about the three proposed coal-fired power plants that will add substantially to the Silver State’s pollution portfolio; and they don’t even attempt to set actual goals for greenhouse gas reductions like five other Western states did (Gibbons, obviously thinking there was some Nevada-shaped swath of magical sky-diaper that absorbed our state’s haze, declined to join the pact). Instead, the committee lobs out some softball about limiting the “intensity” of greenhouse emissions — basically advocating killing Da Erf more slowly. (You can check out the public comments, some damning, some praising, here.)

So, if you were hoping for some visionary document that sees sun-rich Nevada leading the march into a cleaner, greener tomorrow … uh, well, that’s clearly a flash-forward hallucination of your greenhouse gas-fevered mind as you desperately shake the last few drops of Mulroy Xtreme Berry Sizzle Powerade from your robot canteen into your sand-gritted mouth in the year 2127.