Black Gold, Tejas Tea

…..and up from the ground came a bubblin’ crude….

It’s oil that feeds the need and runs the machine – all the machines. Our culture glides along on the black gold lube job; stress shoots skyward when people hear whispers of ominous “peak Oil” theories that threaten to to pull the rug of contentment from beneath them: not with a gentle tug but with scythe’s swing. Are such theoretics an extreme interpretation to mounds of geochemical data that could conceivably yield a loch’s worth of graphical peaks and humps? – we’re on the steep downswing baby, grab the rail and wait for the crash it’s gonna be bonzer!!

Or does that oily curve drip lazily to infinity? Proffering a few more years for our keenest ingenuity to hastily paste the humptydumpty way of things back together again. We can make it better!!!…Spend that coin!! Get more oil, limp it along. Better tech lassie!! but it takes oil to get oil – retrofit society – but hey that takes more oil – f*#k it, drill it drill it all!!!

What’s of no doubt is that corporate oil likes, nay LOVES, this peak oil jive. Sorry John Q. Customer, you’ve seen the Nessie hump Peak of Oil curve and are well aware that due to the graphical nature of this curve we must regretfully squeeze large profits from you, life’s a bitch and all…

The theme, nonetheless, resounds. Doom, Gloom or Sun Shining on My Backdoor Someday. Society on the brink soon to plummit into the void of a post modern stone age? Society to cleverly delude itself that it’s all so easy to make it bettah bettah bettaaaaah ahhhhhhhh!!???

Obviously it’s impossible for anyone to really say – hence the untidy flow of perpetual debate. But one notion is clear: If the culture has not passed some hazily defined point of no return, if there really is salvation from ourselves, society needs to find a way to be quite a great deal smarter and redefine the oil slick consumerist structure that drowns us in our own junk – and by junk I mean, think of the trash you throw out every week, the trinkets sitting around the abode functionless, the constant supply of “product” to every mega wallyworld-cum-home fixit supaplex-cum- strip mall. And by junk I also mean psychological clutter that distracts us – you know what I’m talking about, everyone’s got their own load and usually it’s partially a byproduct of the extreme quantities of the junk of the former genus.

An endless supply of “stuff”. How much does one need? How much can one prune down? How deeply does one really care? Awwww, the new gobs-o-stuff’ll save us…make us all efficient and energy independent — voila…Why think-about-it science is the new saviour?!

Much more to say but not another moment to say it.

Time does keep on slippin’ slippin slippin into the future. Steve Miller is not just saying that folks.

Screw it!!! DRILL IT….DRILL IT ALL!!!! And then pave it and put a Friggin’ Strip Mall on it and a KFC and hell why not a Pet Bakery too

I tend to not fret over these things any more. I have guns – lots of them. And bullets too. When the end comes I will hole up in the mountains. I know places. More than the bears. And there’s a beer stash too…..

“The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin’.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'”
–BD