Stuff About Things
Pity the economic prognosticators, the news analysts, sports writers, and the World of Tomorrow radio prophets — who live in the city. They are too far removed from a small town barber shop to know the score.
Take, for example, the announcement that old man is going to have a garage sale. Will there be any bargains there? Ive knowd that family fer three generations, and they aint never yet give nothin away. The matter is settled, and no one had to leave his chair to spit.
Will the powers in Washington work hard to combat our problems? If Ias a bettin man Id bet ever last one of em rode a cotton sack til heas old enough to git into politics. All nod gravely. You cant expect a leopard to change his spots.
Time out for less serious matters, like sports. Th other day an eagle grabbed one of Bakers fightin cocks and tried to fly off with it. That cock put up such a battle the eagle had to land on a flat rock across the creek, where they fought it out. Well sir, the cock whipped that eagle to a stand-still, and then made him bring him back across that creek. Hmmmm. By listening carefully I learned that money is going to get tighter to squeeze out the little man who has to operate on credit— thats big business for you; or, its going to get looser but prices will keep rising to cancel out the advantages. Interest will get higher for them that has to borrow, but not high enough for them that has to live on retirement funds. (Dont blame me, I just tell it like I hear it— and I listen real good.)
The country is going to fall — we just cant go on like this— although we never had it so good as now, or at least up to this energy crisis. (At this we look at one-another and grin, nodding toward who is a local oil company consignee. We dont really blame him for the gasoline rationing, but it makes a good local joke.) Inflation will wipe us all out.
And you know, I think my barber shop friends are right — well, maybe not on everything, but—. Dont the Bible say a mans a fool to build bigger barns — Ive read it somewhere. What is more certain than death, and the end of all things material? Why do we talk less about, and do less about, the only permanent thing we possess— i.e., our immortal soul??