Friday, July 29, 2011

Jim Beam, Cusano Cigar and a 1940's Motel

I originally was going to take pictures, but then it dawned on me I don't want to ruin it with digital precision and am going to let you imagine it.

I am currently sitting outside in my fold-out chair at my dirt cheap motel in a very small town nestled within the Black Hills of South Dakota. A place none of you will find. It's 78 degrees, about 2130 and the red neon lights just came on casting a very nice hue over the dilapidated trucks in the parking lot. The old man who runs the joint just came out and lit up a cigarette himself.

I am currently puffing on an M1 Cusano Torpedo Cut cigar with a flask of Jim Beam. I have no cell phone reception. Nobody can get in contact with me. I no longer suffer from the jilt or jolt of my cell phone vibrating or ringing, thereby making it my master of a Pavlovian dog-like response to some request or another. My only concerns for tomorrow is to determine which mountain I'm going to climb OR, if it's particularly hot which swimming hole I shall visit OR if it's particularly cool, which portion of the Badlands I shall hike straight through.

Additionally I have not listened to talk radio for about the past 3 weeks and am blissfully unaware of the debt and deficit problems I have tacitly paid attention to when I do decide to visit the Drudge Report. Though I have noticed on my sidebar plug-ins my dollar-short positions against the NOrwegian Kroner and the Canadian dollar are doing quite well - thank you Barry.

I did download some Tom Leykis so I could listen to something while I was driving my motorcycle around the Black Hills today, but otherwise right now I hear nothing but crickets and the occasional motorcycle or car driving by on the only paved road in town. I think I will drink myself my flask of Jim Beam and retire watching the history channel or the military channel.

If there is a way to enjoy the decline. This is it. Not trying, not working, and living as cheaply as possible on the minimum amount of labor you forfeited to the labor market/government-taxing machine. In the meantime I authorize all junior, deputy, aspiring, official or otherwise economists to pour themselves a hefty pour of whatever they got and make a long-range toast (wherever you may be in the Capposphere).

Enjoy the decline!


Ian said...

Beefeater Gin and Ginger Ale tonight.

Gary said...

The recent congressional follies have demonstrated (to me at least) that an intelligent discussion of avoiding the dollar (thence economic, thence societal) collapse is impossible.
Therefore, I have resolved to simply relax, and, as you so wisely advise, enjoy the decline.
Enjoy the day. Enjoy your vacation. Enjoy the cigar (not for me), the Jim Beam (ditto), and the Black Hills (wish I could).
It is sad to be even a somewhat wise man in a land of fools. However, I imagine that has always been the case.

I-RIGHT-I said...


Anonymous said...

Alas, all I have is store brand cherry NyQuil.

But a toast, none the less!