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Scale

The many miles and frequent pauses reveal to any sentient animal the sheer lunacy of the living arrangements we've built for ourselves. Within the span of a couple generations, we abandoned a durable, finely textured, life-affirming set of living arrangements characterized by self-sufficient family farms intermixed with small towns that provided commerce, services, and culture. Worse yet, we traded that model for a coarse-scaled arrangement wholly dependent on ready access to cheap fossil fuels. Then we ratcheted up the madness to rely on businesses that use, almost exclusively, a warehouse-on-wheels approach to just-in-time delivery of unnecessary devices designed for rapid obsolescence and disposal.
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Whack!

The next case of $120 oil, assuming we get there before the industrial economy falls into the abyss, will be brutal for an already over-stretched American consumer. Banks are falling like dominoes on a mule cart over the bumpy terrain of declining energy supplies. When will the lights go out?
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Preparing for Collapse at the Mud Hut

I've dug trenches (requiring only a strong back and a weak mind, so it's the perfect job for me) in which to install water lines, and even installed a
frost-free hydrant
near the chicken coop and duck house (I'm a plumber). This morning I laid
laid tile atop a counter
in the outdoor kitchen (I'm a mason). I've built several awnings for tools and shade, along with a few structures for animals (I'm a rough carpenter). And we're growing considerable food, planted from seed, in our own garden beds and also in a neighbor's field (I'm a sharecropper). My two favorite titles, then, are Professor Emeritus and Sharecropper.
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Adventures at the Mud Hut: An Overdue Update

Prophet of Doom is a tough sell, as it always has been. Nobody appreciates a prophet in his own time, I suppose. On the other hand, there’s no need for a prophet in these times: the newspapers are filled with far more economic doom than I can keep up with, much less write about. So this post will focus on my personal approach to an economy rigged to fail.

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Vocations after the Oil Age

As the economic collapse rapidly accelerates, I’ve been thinking entirely too much about post-carbon living. Specifically, I’ve been contemplating my future role in the community I’ll be inhabiting. How will I make a contribution, and therefore justify my continued presence? What will I call my vocation, in the years ahead?

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Personal preparations for the fall of empire

It doesn’t pay to be a prophet, at least not in one’s own time. I’ve been ridiculed, disparaged, and generally mocked in public, and the email in-box is filled with hateful missives. I’m not complaining, mind you: Every social critic knows how little regard society has for criticism. I don’t much care for it myself, when it’s pointed my way.

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