Friday, May 23, 2008

• Three. Eight. Y. Nine.

  Currently Watching Veer Zaara see related

  That's what I saw regular gasoline going for at our neighborhood station yesterday as Joel and I drove down to take Bishop and our little ladies to A & W for a celebratory root beer. It was the last day of school and he's made so much progress, we needed a recognition of the fact. Of course, the price of gas sent our jaws to the floor and made us wail and beat our chests, but we toned it down when people started staring from their front porches.

  I remember hearing on NPR a few weeks back that gas in the UK is the equivalent of $8 per gallon right now. Yup, you read that correctly. I guess by that standard I should be kissing random Exxon signs in gratitude but for now I am VERY ANGRY that I might be able to eat out one less time per month because! Am AMERICAN! We built this country to run on depleting reserves of fossil fuels because we have the RIGHT! Have complete entitlement to cheap gas in order to pollute atmosphere without it biting my pocketbook! Sidewalks, bike lanes, ha! I spit on them all!

  Joel's reaction to the new price was to throw a reference to gas into every conversational gambit from then on for the rest of the trip. A cop sped by with sudden acceleration? "See, he's not paying for his gas. He can afford to do that." An SUV barrelled by? "What a freaking waste of money; twelve miles to the gallon if you're lucky. If I had one of those I'd be on the altar repenting by Sunday." Somebody roared in the opposite direction on their motorcycle? "Now that's the smart way to get around. Fifty miles to the gallon."

  When I discovered my pregnancy with Teeny I began petitioning Heaven for a minivan. We never got one. However, God knew exactly what he was doing (wow. What a surprise) because there is no way we could afford the gas now. Far from being a symbol of God's lack of interest in my transportation situation, our two sedans are symbols of his care for our finances. Also they have now led to the sort of smug self-righteousness that only involuntary environmentalism can yield. (Haha, suckers, enjoy that Suburban--in your DRIVEWAY!)

  For Musical Chairs Friday, I now present Louis Armstrong, singing "Hello, Dolly" in 1967.

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