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(The Latest Word provides Sandy's latest observations about folk music and other topics. The main Latest Word page contains a list of additional installments.) IF I HAD A ROCKET LAUNCHER...I COULDN'T AFFORD TO FUEL IT I am a gentle, peace-loving woman. I see a deer and think "Bambi," not "target" (though I do have a weakness for medallions of venison). I do not own, and have never owned, a gun. The only items that I've ever shot were dead major appliances, pop cans, and cereal boxes at legal firing ranges. But lately, I have fantasized about aiming a Daisy air rifle and shooting out the tires of every swollen SUV and pickup-truck-on-steroids I see. You see, I have just returned from northern Virginia, land of Civil War monuments, meandering streams, and cheap gasoline. Well, not "cheap" per se; but a buck-sixty-five a gallon sure beats the two-forty I paid a few days ago here in Chicago. Something's quite amiss when bootleg plutonium gives more bang for the buck than Molotov cocktails. Our President, George W. Bush (excuse me for a second while I choke on that), has just released his "energy plan." (Excuse me again while I reach for my inhaler—no, not because of the smog, but because I've just laughed myself into an asthma attack). Dubya, son of the kinder, gentler Thousand Points of Light (batteries not included), the "compassionate conservative," has just deposited a heapin' helpin' of compassion upon his buddies in the fossil fuel industry—and a bigger crock of conservatism upon the rest of us. He has actually proclaimed that he does not intend to discourage our insatiable appetite for gasoline, declaring it part of "our American way of life." Hmmmmm....for the last fourteen years I've been driving midsize, six-cylinder, made-in-Chicago Ford Tauruses with piddly little 13-gallon gas tanks that get 25 miles to the gallon. Guess that makes me un-American—maybe even a pinko should I spring for that hybrid gas-electric car I've been eyeing lately. Heck, why not go all the way to flat-out Commie by taking public transit as often as I can? Now, I didn't just fall off the timbale-and-tournedos truck. Shrub is merely following the time-honored American political tradition of dancing with them what brung him. And you have to give the guy some credit for trying—should I buy that Honda Insight or Toyota Prius, he intends to give me a tax credit that might actually cover the cost of my first tank of gas. Oh, boy. So let's not kid ourselves. Why concentrate on increasing supply? Well, because the energy industry, Madison Avenue, and testosterone have done such a wonderful job of increasing demand that nothing short of a New England Journal of Medicine study announcing that gas-guzzling cars cause irreversible erectile dysfunction can reduce it. And why not emphasize conservation? Because (as A. Whitney Brown once explained the fall of Communism), there's no money in it. You can't sell people something they already own (well, actually you can, but indulge me for a moment), or charge them for not using it—oh, wait a minute, that's been done too, in the guise of surcharges by industries whose revenues have fallen due to consumer belt tightening. Aw, heck, let's recognize greed for what it is. Greed is good, right? Didn't "Wall Street" win Oscars due in part to that speech by Michael Douglas' character Gordon Gekko? Well, we expect politicians and big business to be greedy. Hey—even we're somewhat greedy. We buy stocks—and don't go all self-righteous on me: If you only have an IRA or even just a bank account, you're buying stocks. Business these days is driven not by consumer satisfaction or even by competition—it's driven by return on investment, not only for the high rollers, but also for us little folks who are trying to keep our money from dwindling faster than if we'd just stuffed it in a mayonnaise jar. And when we get a decent return on our investment, when we don't have too much month left at the end of our money, don't we have the right to do what we want with the surplus, so long as it doesn't hurt anyone? Sure. I'll even assume arguendo that it's no mortal sin to get self-indulgent and buy all the toys we can afford, no matter how frivolous. You're getting into shady territory when these toys begin to pollute and use up scarce resources, but you're not taking anything that the rest of us could afford anyway, so where's the harm? I'll tell you—right in my wallet. And your wallet (okay, so it's your wallet, so I'll lay off). Ahem. Back to my wallet. Get your mitts off it. Yes, you heard me correctly. I don't begrudge SUVs, vans, or trucks to anyone who truly needs them for hauling or getting around. I held my tongue while you city folks whose idea of "off-roading" means driving on the sidewalk when the gutters flood (or insist on parking on top of snowdrifts instead of wielding a shovel or snowblower or paying the teenager down the block to dig out your parking space) snapped up those monster Excursions and Navigators that make pulling out of side streets an exercise in automotive Russian Roulette. I gritted my teeth when friend after friend followed suit "in self-defense." But now you haven't stopped at obstructing my road vision, striking terror into smaller cars with lower bumpers, or spewing schmutz into the air. Now you've raised demand, decreased supply, and thus sent everyone's gas budget into the stratosphere. And you know what's worse? There's growing evidence that the supply may not be as skimpy as the oil companies say it is—but the oil companies say it's dwindling, Bush the Beneficiary agrees with them (lest he have to go back to working for a living in 2004), and they raise prices. Again. Why? Well, same reason a cat licks its genitals—because they can. Now, you guys deserve what you get—but why should those of us who were good gasoline-economy soldiers for decades have to pay for your indulgences? It's like you drinking a quart of gin a day but giving all of us cirrhosis. So now it's personal. Your hand is in my cookie jar. That click you hear? It's me, locking and loading......my cap pistol. I can't afford ammo. But that's just my opinion. Your mileage may vary. Heck, on this one I know it does. Main Page • Additional Installments • Contact Sandy Copyright © 2000, 2001, Sandy Andina, All Rights Reserved |
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