The Gas Crisis

In 1973 the first American oil crisis was underway. Men struggled to stay afloat. Most people were not economically viable. But, I was already a millionaire, many times over. The average person is so far distant from their survival skills that the smallest flux in the variables of life sinks them.

I spent the 70s with unfiltered cigarettes and overproof liquor. My neighbor complained about the hookers until I killed and ate his dog. It tasted like gamey, wet cardboard, even after I cooked it over the coals of my oil drum barbecue. Then I took the bones and made a statue of it in my garage. Sometimes I burn a candle under it for all the hookers who didn't deserve it, and for those who did. I tighten my belt for the priests and the womanizers, for the addicts and the adrift.

The masters of our destiny have been preparing since then. Like me. The future slaves are those who have not prepared. It is they who will need to take from those who have prepared when the comedown comes. And so too will their plowshares be made into swords and I will scramble the yolks of their babies into a great omelette for the ages.