The price of oil

Well mes amis, lately your old friend Pierrot has become obsessed with the price of oil. Why, you ask, would a man such as Pierrot, who lives as free as a bird and drives his car into the ocean just because the bourgeois pigs insist on driving on the left side of the road, care about the price of oil? Well, because I have to rob many more people at gunpoint in order to fill whatever citroen I stole the day before in my manic flight across France - and perhaps to Italy. And when I do steal cars, the capitalist fascists with their false ideas of property often have empty tanks! Zut alors! The price fluctuates erratically on a daily basis, Pierrot knows it is commodities speculators and hedge funds trying to cover their asses against whatever new crisis is overplayed on CNN - tropical storm threatens? Oil goes up, too much. Storm is not so bad? Oil is down again. Problems with storage? Everyone knows that a few fractions of a percent fluctuation in storage rates doesn't change a thing in the real world, yeton the exchange prices adjust a hundredfold what they should. Bastards. Don't even get me started on Iran. Those fools are one of the largest producers in the world yet have to import a large portion (40%) of their refined products because they lack the will or means to build refineries without Western assistance - and because of this they want to build nuclear plants to supply the energy they already have but aren't smart enough to use. The only reason I support them is because they hat the capitalist pig fuckers in the West enough to invest in their own apocalyptic vision, cobbled from some desert tales that are centuries old, for this I commend them. But there is a lot of talk about a new benchmark, people are saying that we have said goodbye to the days of cheap oil, that oil will never fall below $40 again. That is what people said in the oil crisis of the late 70's, and by the mid-80's oil was already back around $20 in real terms from a high around $100 (also in real terms). So Pierre hopes that the capitalist economies will perish, victims of their own greed and simplify his process of theft anf grand theft auto, allowing him to live an easier life running from the law and his cuckolded wife on the avenues of Bordeaux.

Welcome to Bluesky-Bullhead, a place where the classical world is given a chance to critique our society as it is at the dawn of the 21st Century, among other things. I am your host, Pierrot le Fou, it is among my duties to look down my nose at you and pretend that any mistakes I may have made in citing or paraphrasing are eithertoo far below me to warrant the slightest inconvenience, possibly just meant to trick you fools, or even enlighten you into whatever other meanings you may find. Notice the picture at right, that was from some 1950 odd years ago, I recall being on my way to Damascus to persecute some Christians when their god - what nerve! struck me blind and spoke to me, informing the path I would take for the rest of my life, even possessing the gumption to change the name my parents had given me! I went along with it somewhat grudgingly for a few decades until I was crucified. Then a millenia and a half later this Italian fellow decides to paint the whole scene, and leaves me lying in the light of this divinity, struck off my horse, surrounded by darkness. Let me set the record straight - yes I was blinded, but I maintain past my dying day that it was merely the reflection of the noonday sun off of the polished iron armour of the centurion in front of me. And as for being knocked to the ground by the holy spirit, well, our saddles didn't have any stirrups you see and I rather was distracted by the sun and at the same moment a bee stung me in a very sensitive area having forgotten to wear anything under my toga and tunica...