Wednesday, March 26, 2008


Well, it’s official. The price of home heating oil has reached $4 per gallon. It now costs more to heat my measly little 1,100 square foot cape than it does to pay the mortgage (sans the taxes).

For years I’ve kept the oil price griping at a minimum, reserving it only for tirades at the gas pump while personally filling the tank of my Hyundai. I hate pumping gas. It’s right up there with pap smears and the Human League. But yesterday that little pink carbon copy waiting for me in the mailbox was the last straw.

It’s a horrible feeling to know that there is absolutely nothing you can do about getting fucked over by the invisible powers that be. The options are: freeze, switch to the electric grid which in the end will probably cost more, sell the goddamned house and take that road trip - do the Kerouac thing I’ve always wanted to (oh wait, can’t really afford that either), move south (but I can't stand the religious goonery), drink myself into a stupor. Ding, ding, ding - we have a winner.

I think I’m feeling like so many Americans right now with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. No one gives a shit about the struggles of the working class. The never have and they never will. I question why I’ve always tried to walk the straight and narrow when it comes to personal responsibility. Why I pay my way, never impose, never ask for favors, conserve and shut up. I’m one of the millions living in quiet desperation hoping I don’t get cancer or fall prey to a violent crime. Life is fast becoming a stew of constant fear tempered with a semi-stable job and a penchant for the sauce. My intellectual pursuits merely a hobby, a means of breaking up the monotony of this sick and mind numbingly boring routine that I’ve let myself fall into.

Maybe I’m just a sucker for comfort and stability. I like sleeping in a nice bed in a relatively warm house. I like my good coffee and my Black Label scotch. Jesus Christ, haven’t I earned these few comforts? Things could always be worse, right? That seems to have become my motto as of late. $4 a gallon. 4,000 American soldiers dead. Four more years of Republican bullshit (likely on the way). Maybe I should start playing the lottery or the violin.

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