"The public indeed may be losing its appetite for the Iraq project, but not for Nascar racing, fried chicken buckets, car trips to Six Flags, and round-the-clock air conditioning. What shock of recognition will flash across the TV screens when the connection is finally made that keeping all these things going is why we're in Iraq?"
Kunstler, you know best don't you? All of us mouth breathers are going to spend the fourth of July watching racing, driving to places we don't need to go like WalMart. Maybe we'll go there and get a Dale Earnhardt blow up chair to sit in while drinking Miller Lite in the back yard. Don't forget the fried chicken, which must be the reason were at war right?
Unless that "shock of recognition " is tattooed across the tits of the next American Idol, you can pretty much figure that nobody will notice. The most conservative estimates have us in oil for the next 50 years, and I will be dead by then so why worry. I am confident that some smart kid will defy the shitty public school educational process and develop some way to get hydrogen from water with fusion generated electricity. Petro-based energy will go the way of coal.
You do the worrying for me okay, and next weekend to celebrate your chicken little predictions on oil, I'm going to fill the tank of one of my motorcycles, and use it instead of my 14 mpg Chevy Suburban to make a discretionary 300 mile trip, of course I am going to drive so fast that it doubles my fuel consumption. I'll kick the door of any Prius I blow by or anything with a Kerry sticker on it. I'm going to eat a heart stopping serving of fried chicken (cooked in oil) along the way but I won't be alone. I am but one of the common, mundane, mindless, simple-like robots, as defined in your pseudo-intellectual elitist mind. Unfortunately for you, I am not a "meaningless construct" but flesh and blood, and like million of others Americans are shiting and pissing and breeding and going to church and consuming stuff and buying Shania Twain crap like CD's with a ton of non-degradable plastic packaging. We are going to fill the sewers with excrement from the fried chicken we founder ourselves on and top off the landfills with disposable diapers and plastic water bottles until there is not even a place for erudite geniuses like yourself to stand on one foot. Hopefully you will topple over into the ocean and you can wash up on the shore of Russia or Norway and live out your socialist utopia.
Unless that "shock of recognition " is tattooed across the tits of the next American Idol, you can pretty much figure that nobody will notice. The most conservative estimates have us in oil for the next 50 years, and I will be dead by then so why worry. I am confident that some smart kid will defy the shitty public school educational process and develop some way to get hydrogen from water with fusion generated electricity. Petro-based energy will go the way of coal.
You do the worrying for me okay, and next weekend to celebrate your chicken little predictions on oil, I'm going to fill the tank of one of my motorcycles, and use it instead of my 14 mpg Chevy Suburban to make a discretionary 300 mile trip, of course I am going to drive so fast that it doubles my fuel consumption. I'll kick the door of any Prius I blow by or anything with a Kerry sticker on it. I'm going to eat a heart stopping serving of fried chicken (cooked in oil) along the way but I won't be alone. I am but one of the common, mundane, mindless, simple-like robots, as defined in your pseudo-intellectual elitist mind. Unfortunately for you, I am not a "meaningless construct" but flesh and blood, and like million of others Americans are shiting and pissing and breeding and going to church and consuming stuff and buying Shania Twain crap like CD's with a ton of non-degradable plastic packaging. We are going to fill the sewers with excrement from the fried chicken we founder ourselves on and top off the landfills with disposable diapers and plastic water bottles until there is not even a place for erudite geniuses like yourself to stand on one foot. Hopefully you will topple over into the ocean and you can wash up on the shore of Russia or Norway and live out your socialist utopia.