For the first time in my memory, we have a major media figure pining for the failure of a president, and therefore the country. And, also for the first time in my memory, I agree with Rush. The economic collapse of this country promises a renaissance for non-human species and non-industrial cultures.
I used to talk, and write, about peak oil with considerable urgency. But my enthusiasm is waning. Perhaps it’s time to throw in the proverbial towel, give up the proverbial ghost, switch proverbial horses, or … well, insert your own tired cliché here.
The second reminder appeared in the cover story of the local counter-culture rag. It’s a compelling story, told sufficiently well to evoke tears as I read it. It’s a reminder that we can do many things to help others and ourselves as the world comes down around us.
It seems neither the Fed nor the Treasury Department cannot stop sunshine with an umbrella, much less interrupt the relentless tsunami of dire economic news.
As you can imagine, Heller doesn’t believe in peak oil, so he’s all set to grill Alten about his “ludicrous” novel. I think I’m supposed to provide air support.
The houses predate the advent of modern “conveniences,” too. Life without toasters, blenders, microwave ovens, electric razors, hair dryers, curling irons, and electric alarm clocks means there’s one electrical outlet in nearly every room. But none in the bathrooms. And because the house dates to 1938, and hasn’t been cleaned or otherwise maintained since then, several of the outlets don’t work.
Cheap oil allowed us to build the suburbs and treat our houses as ATMs. Thus, cheap oil allowed the fiesta of economic growth and the packaging of bank loans into increasingly complex bundles of surreality. When reality bitch-slaps the banks, it’s really peak oil doing the slapping. When banks fail, or are baled out by … well, you and me … the failures are induced by peak oil and the “baling out” is a tax on you and me.