So Much for Enjoying the Weekend

We're still enjoying the mid-winter vacation from winter here in Southern New England (I'm always tempted to throw a "y'all" in there after I type Southern even though I know no one here actually says it and most people in the South don't say it either).

Our stretch of above freezing days is starting to run together and I fear a few more will lull us into a sense of winter is over and then winter will pounce again and, as happens every year, we'll be miserable again because we thought we were home and dry.

Last weekend and perhaps most of this one are when we take small-scale automobile expeditions to see friends or to shop, as if we were nearing spring and we've been so reluctant to do that in recent months because of the economy, or emotional malaise, or (on the opposite side of the ledger) overload at home or at work. You may not have noticed the price of gasoline is starting to creep up (as in comparison to what we think we should pay. Almost everyone else around the industrial world cannot believe the bargain we get at the pumps--except us, of course).

In the closing month of 2009, it very slowly started to ascend and here, and as we are about to enter the last week of January (!!! Already, the entire first month of the year is gone?!? When did this happen?), the price continues to climb and in the not-too-distant future, there's an excellent chance the price at the pump these days will bear a striking resemblance to the 'good old days.'

Here's a number that has nothing to with the price at the pump but everything to do with the cost for each of us and to our way of life. Last year, we imported 4.35 Billion barrels of oil at a cost of about a million dollars per minute. I'm not a great numbers guy (someone else always handled the slips and the flash paper) but a decent wag on that total cost works out to about $265 BILLION dollars sucked right out of a struggling economy.

We've been a nation striving for energy self-sufficiency since the early Seventies when Boss Mustangs, and Oldsmobiles 442's roamed the earth-Getty was 35 cents a gallon (there's NO cents key on my keyboard. How incredible is that?) and someone pumped your gas, checked your oil and wiped your windshield. Thirty-five years on, how's all that working out? Hop in, we can talk about it along the way. I'll drive, you buy.
"Standing looking at a photograph
That you do not remember being taken.
You look out of breath, and me like I am faking.
As a matter of fact I don't recall this photo being taken
You don't even actually exist, so I just started shaking.
Does not exist, take an exit."
-bill kenny