There aren't many days when I blow through $1,000 before breakfast.
It all started with New Dog Libby whose food supply was down to 48 hours. Meaning Walmart. Where I discovered Sam's heirs were out of .22 Long Rifle and Sodastream replacement cartridges. So I settled for
--a month's worth of Purina in an Ol' Roy bag
--a week's worth of milk and bread
--and one medium-grade party's worth of beer.
Elsewhere in the great commercial centers of the Smugleye-on-Lake SMSA I acquired four gallons of non-ethanated gasoline for the small engines required to maintain the parade fields of Camp Jiggleview, of which I am Commandant.
Math whizzes will note that even at Ben Bernanke/Janet Yellin prices I am not within spitting distance of a grand, but wait. There's more.
While among the barbarians anyway, I thought, "What the Hell. The van is already warmed up and there will be a winter this year, Al Gore to the contrary notwithstanding." So I turned into the local grain elevator which also sells propane, waded through the early-morning farmers and agricultural poseurs loafing over free coffee, and bought
--one year's worth of icky fossil fuel.
Honesty requires admission that even the earth-smarming LP didn't quite get me to the four-figure threshold which justifies a whining blog entry, so I waffled a hair and have just -- still before breakfast -- transferred the remainder of the balance due the fine (if dilatory) Caspian folks for
--what I hope is a life time's supply of slide for the Commanderish project in .45 ACP. (The promised delivery time, more than 13 weeks ago, was "about 8-10 weeks." At least they're being honest in their pledge not to bill my plastic company until it is shipped.)
That did it, and so to breakfast before seeing if there is air in the bicycle tires so I can once again go can collecting in the country air.
Side observations include.
1. The critical shortage of Sodastream cartridges rivals that of .22s. One suspects a conspiracy between Bloomberg and Holder. Each knows compressed carbon dioxide can readily be converted into a weapon of mass destruction with the addition of a few other chemicals commonly found around any well-supplied home -- propane (UH Ohhh), ammonia, Clorox, and/or Ffffg. Among others. This terrorist threat would certainly make make women, children, and minorities hardest hit.
2. Since women are supposed to be nicer and more truthful than men, I had hoped to find Janet's dictated "2 per cent" inflation was truth rather than an echo of Ben's long lie. It was saddening, therefore, to find smoked picnics (the cheap parts of pigs) at $2.38 a pound against against an historical (c. 2009) under a buck. Perhaps worse, Smucker's all-natural peanut butter has advanced from $2.49 to $2.98 in just a few months, a clear inflationary rate of 19.67 per cent.
And if all that ain't as true and sincere as a Jimmy Swaggert apology I'll kiss your picnic on the steps of the Federal Reserve Board and pay you to hire Hillary Clinton's booking agent for the running commentary.