People are rumbling out in the Holler. I don’t know a better word for it. There’s a distinct, “I’ve had it.” Between the useless war that touches so many lives, the growing division between rich and poor, the shrinking safety net, the horror of Katrina, and the callous disregard for the non $50M net worth crowd’s welfare; people are just plain fed up. Oh yes, the gas gauging and profiteering of the President’s pals has not gone unnoticed.

I sometimes drive a vehicle with a prominent “Impeach Bush” sticker in red, white, and blue. I knew when I put it on that I might have to put up with flack. What I was not prepared for was the kind of flack. A guy in a weather railroad cap with colored suspenders, maybe 65 or so, stops me outside the hardware store to tell me they should do worse (unprintable) to the bastards. Another guy, big lumberjack-looking fella in a red plaid jacket pulls up behind me at the pumps. He gets out, points to the sticker and asks me if I stand by that statement. I reply, “Are you kidding? I am astonished at the rape and pillage these guys are pulling off. Bill Clinton gets a blow job, and misses being impeached by one vote.” That big guy walks up to me (okay—now I’m worried), and says, “Well I feel the same and it’s good to see it out in the open. People need to talk about it, cause we ain’t gonna see it in the news.”

Remember the story of the king with no clothes? Everyone sucked up to the Big Man and pretended he had on the finest attire. Only one child had the sense to state the obvious, “The King has no clothes!.” It is good to see it all out in the open, so to speak.

And so, GW saunters off into the Texas sunset leaving behind a wrecked nation. Plundered and left to rot as the global economy pirates jet to their next private meeting in Mauritius. And for the rest of us? Arguably worst of all is the blow to our national self-identity. And of course, the end to the myth that we ARE the good guys. The truth is, that all people have similar needs, a fact clearly lost on the current ruling elite.

As PT Barnum, the famous oddity curator and the father of modern public relations (which is why we still know his name), once said, “You can fool all of the people some of the time. You can even fool some of the people all of the time. But you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.” Guess what guys, cat’s out of the bag.

Speaking of cleaning up the mess, we have been learning about EM, or enhanced microorganisms. No, this is not bioengineering. It is a cocktail of good yeast, bacteria and enzymes that are approved for use on Organic Agriculture. They need to be spraying this stuff all over New Orleans. The bacteria and yeast will eat up the bad bugs and neutralize the smell. Hello! Anybody listening?

What a mess we have made of things. In my not quite 50 years I have witnessed the doubling of the human population and the subsequent destruction of our world’s natural resources. And now I am asked to envision sustainable systems for the post cheap oil century. Envision sustainable systems as we head towards 9 billion people in 45 years? Ain’t nothing sustainable with those kinds of population pressures.

The world can hold 2 billion comfortably. Are there any volunteers for early withdrawal? How about eliminating Medicare? Giving cigarettes to schoolchildren? Opening death centers? Perhaps more appropriately, give 18-year-olds a cash-in-the-hand bonus to get fixed. Heck—we could get 20 for the price of one in many developing countries. Pay you to be fixed. Problem solved. Way cheaper than creating infrastructure, let alone maintaining a life style that mimics the rich and famous.

Food prices are going up. Whether you live in the valley or the holler, all God’s children got to eat. And most of that food ain’t from around here. As faithful readers will recall, the carrot you eat in January is as much a product of Saudi Arabia as California. Go outside and rip up that acre of lawn right now. Lay down some manure and lime and cover it with hay. Let it all rot over the winter. It will turn into a beautiful soil when you rototill it come spring. And besides, you can’t afford the gas for that riding grass cutting go-cart anyway. (A few chickens wouldn’t hurt neither.) Go see Sandy down at Seasoned Books in Rochester, VT. if you need information on going natural (as in farming and building).

You didn’t really enjoy giving up your weekend to raise a crop of useless lawn now did you? What a strange fashion statement a lawn is anyway. Based on an old English manor thing. At least they played croquet on it. Now people barely remember what croquet is!

There’s a story about a man who came through back in the nineteen thirties. Seems he was all worked up and going on about the Great Depression, and how awful it was, affecting so many people’s lives and all. Old woman looks over to him and says, “Son, you say there is a Depression going on out there, and people are barely scraping by. Well I have lived here for most of my life, and that’s the way life has been for us and everybody we know. We hear this Depression talk, and we don’t know whether to be happy that our lives are pretty much the same, or sad that everyone else is depressed about having to live like we do. We didn’t know we was Depressed, we just lived normal and it was fine. We made sure no one went without, and we are basically, you know, pretty much happy. ’Cept for some folks who wouldn’t be happy if they hit the lottery.”

With that she shut right up and rocked. Fortunately, someone was paying attention. I hope you are too.

This is the Soapman telling you to buy local—now the affordable option. Get yourself a bar of organic soap to go with that book on straw bale construction.

These essays were written for entertainment purposes only. The views expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of Vermont Soap, its employees, board of directors, our Web host, Web designer, the neighbors who live up the road; or any of the thousands of people who use our stuff. Originally published in edited form by Comic News. Many thanks to Seasoned Books, without which, life in the Holler may never have become a reality.