GAS APPRECIATION!

Don’t be misled by the title of this column. It’s a touchy odiferous subject, but harnessing the power of gas could save the world! It is somehow always credited to dad, his nightly bottle of beer and his three bean cassarole. However, there is something to be said for the ancient dinosaurs that gave their lives to become the goo in the ground that have powered incalculable numbers of batteries in countless vibrators (note the sexual overtone).

It seems that the U.S. population is looking at the current economic energy worries from the wrong perspective. The snooty owners of art pieces are familiar with the prospect of products that appreciate in value rather than steadily becoming as worthless as your dad’s underwear with its stringy worn out elastic. Those are the ones dear old dad wears until there are so many holes in them that there is no longer a mystery for the declining population problem. What’s with all of this picking on poppa?

The spiraling price of petroleum offers an example of gas appreciation. Sure gasoline is $4 per gallon at the pump and a barrel of oil is worth over $127 per barrel. The gloomy middle class is complaining when they should be reveling! The value of that super-tanker SUV that they’ve been forced to park in their driveway with the full tank of gas in it keeps appreciating in value everyday, thanks to gas. Had owners wisely parked them a year ago, the fuel inside would be worth at least at least 33% more. Where else could the common man have invested so little and gained a return to rival that of the legendary Hillary cattle futures swindle…..er….revenue?

Think about profit rather than cost and it will put your mind at ease. The 5 gallon gas-can parked by the lawn mower now needs its own security detail because its contents have become so valuable. Last year a pauper could have purchased one of those gold-securing red plastic beauties, but now middle class working folk are struggling to keep hold of theirs! We can’t be too destitute though, if we all still leave $20 bills laying around in our gardening sheds in the form of unguarded fuel in those plastic cans that are ripe for the plucking. Somebody with enough stealth who could have invaded the gasoline henhouse and filled their tank when oil was $10 a barrel, but now they risk being set upon by the family Doberman trained to sniff stray gas fumes on the crotch of thieves. Nobody wants a Pincher wrapped around them humping their leg, or sinking its teeth into their tush, but the gamble might be worth it now that gas is so valuable.

Keep in mind also, that there are plenty of other valuable fuels that are much more expensive. McAnything meals are valued at over $5 each, a gallon of whisky is worth over $20, and KY Jelly is a $265 per gallon commodity; so astronomical in price that it boggles the mind even when it is not trembling thighs.

So what are we to make of the rising value of gas? The ecological ninny’s that run around to complain are ruining the greatest commodity appreciation for the working man in a generation by demanding something silly like fuel efficiency. The fear of running out of the stuff, and increased demand are wedge arguments that rob American’s the reward of seeing their big trucks filled up one day, and the same fuel being worth 50% more a week later. You couldn’t receive such a return had you cornered the wiener market at a dachshund convention. With all of the tree hugging namby-pamby crunch- granola types whining about waste, perhaps they could put their own energy into a useful venture. Maybe they should start a movement to capture some methane that is being wasted at the number one natural gas producing location in America; dear old dad reclining nightly in his Lazy-Boy rocker. He is a reliable source, and given the usual the noises, one could believe that it is possible to harness enough energy to light up an entire household from one simple taco guacamole and bean chalupa. Of course we won’t have the same appreciation for gas like we do now, but then again someone has to make the sacrifice for the good of the country in order to appreciate gas!

THE MESSAGE OF FAT!

I have a theory as to why America has gotten so obese! Even our children have become little porkers. I can’t remember more than one person in my elementary school class that was overweight thirty –some years ago. Of course that one poor little fat kid that we nicknamed “Hunky Chunky Monkey” was excoriated ruthlessly by the rest of us thinner children in the name of comic relief. The only thing more interesting to talk about was Alana. She was the only other classmate aside from the chunky one who required a bra. She was popular because her chest was fat not despite it.

The rise in per capita weight within the citizenry coincides with the decline of the teen pregnancy rate. Kids are binging still, but no longer upon one another. In the 1980’s carnal snacking was quite the rage and created unwanted babies at an alarming rate. Kids were plopped onto the planet by unwed child-mothers who had the bodies of sticks and all of the sensuality of salmon swimming upstream. Somehow the boy population in those days didn’t need anything more than to share their testosterone with nearest shapeless girl as a societal pressure relief valve.

This phenomenon is not that different than what you find in marriages today. At the beginning, newlyweds are bumping and grinding like rabbits. You can tell who’s a recently married couple by simply taking a walk around the neighborhood on a few successive nights. The houses you hear all of those strange noises coming from all of the time are the ones with the bride and groom actively romping through their pleasure room. Listen long enough and you’ll hear performing feats of spectacular delight with a repertoire befitting its own chapter in the Kama Sutra. It may sound like she is being knifed, or he is doing a mad- bull stuck in a tarpit imitation, but really those are just the sound of true love (or some sloppy rendering, pleasures of the flesh thereof).

Once the children start arriving for a couple the libido death knell is sounded. The ladies usually lose interest; the men forget what made them famous in the courtship, and focus more on how to land their lips around the tip of a long neck bottle of beer rather than around their woman in the same seductive way.

Then after a period of time couples start to swallow all of the pent up sexual frustration. Just because there is no getting-it-on in great frequency anymore doesn’t mean the hormones don’t still rage. Fools start to consume their frustration in various forms of food and drink. To excess they go, as they replace their favorite well positioned activities with a different sensory stimulation geared toward the taste buds. With the world of processed high fat foods the next thing you find is that the 9 months of gestation is replaced by 9 months of ingestion resulting in that mound above your waistline; it isn’t a baby belly it’s a beer belly.

If you want to find the most sexually frustrated folks in the neighborhood check out the largest ones. Being overweight is just a primal scream of lust. They are doing their moves on a box of frosted flakes, a bowl of ice cream a load of Oreo cookies and a box of donuts instead of upon their spouse. You’ll notice that the ones gaining weight are on the down slope of the Saturday night love-machine frolics while the ones getting in shape are getting in the hay most often. Note that silent skinny person in the neighborhood; they don’t talk ‘cause their hoarse from all of that midnight noise between the sheets. They’re happy and making it, laughing all the way to the Lovin’ Time’s store for more supplies.

Staying in shape certainly means more than it use to in our modern society and now you know where one needs to be to properly exercise your mind, body and your demons. The bedroom is America’s gymnasium and playground. More couples need to get back to using it regularly.