The 700 Billion Dollar Chicken Ranch

Welcome to Colonel Possum's Recession Chronicles (first episode)!

"Hey Colonel," Big Molly* pulled her welding helmet off and tossed it on the floor, "What are these Congress meat puppets doing in Washington this weekend?"

Big Molly has been welding up handrails for the local clinic. A nice side job until she and Elko can get back to trucking.

"They're trying to pass a $700 billion bailout plan for Wall Street, hon," I pulled some two-inch angle iron from the stock rack and brought it over to Molly's work bench.

"Thanks, Colonel," Molly wiped her brow, "Why do we got to bail out fat cats? I ain't seen any politicians putting diesel in Miss Pete."

"Good point there. It's funny that when multi-billionaires go broke they become multi-millionaires. We go broke and its life in a shopping cart!"

"It ain't funny, Colonel, it sucks!"

"I agree. Unfortunately, they still need to get this done. The house is on fire."

"Their mansion or the OHC bunkhouse?"

"Maybe both. You see the credit markets have seized up."

"I ain't never been to no credit market, let'um shop at WalMart!" Molly turned off her Lincoln welder. No more welding today, my ole hippie gal was pissed off.

"Molly, remember those stories I used to tell you and your sister about my dad and our chicken ranch?"

"Oh Colonel, you know we love them ole tales. What's that got to do with some credit store for rich asses?" Molly kicked an empty box of weld rod with her size 14 boot. It cleared the bench, the shop door and cart wheeled down the gravel drive toward Miss Pete. Two cats jumped off the old Peterbilt's empty fuel tank.

"Phew! They might need your boot to move things along at the Capitol."

"So what's this about chickens?"

"A chicken ranch is pretty simple. You haul in feed, ship eggs and haul out chicken poop. You do that seven days a week. A pound of feed gives you a couple of eggs and a pound of poop."

"And all that chicken shit ends up in Washington?"

"Here's the point, Molly. My dad and his brother were always in debt with the feed folks. You see the feed companies extend ranchers credit."

"How come they don't pay it off?" Molly stretched back on a folding chair with her feet propped up on the idle Lincoln, story time at the OHC. She pulled two brewskis out of the Igloo and tossed one my way.

"Thanks boo. You see most ranchers and farmers always have debt hanging over their head. With poultry diseases and market swings it is hard to ever catch up."

"So what's that got to do with fat cats that don't want to shop at WalMart?" One of the fuel tank cats jumped into Molly's lap on queue, time for a little Big Molly loving.

"Whoa! Rocko is getting big, no recession in his feed bowl!"

"That's the part this ole hippie is missing, Colonel. Rocko here don't care what the Washington meat puppets do or don't do this weekend. He's going to be fed tomorrow and Monday and Tuesday and..."

"But you see Molly, when credit dries up the feed company stops delivering feed.. no more credit for the rancher."

"Hmm, that's a bitch!"

"No feed, no eggs and in few days no chickens," I picked up the second cat and sat on the Igloo ice chest, "That's how fast things can get bad Molly. There are a lot of businesses in our country that rely on credit to provide payrolls not just feed for chickens."

"This is sounding bad, Colonel."

"It is Molly. It is one of the saddest situations I've seen in my sixty years on this planet."

"Are we going to make it?"

"Yup, that's the good part Molly. We're survivors, Americans will regroup and Miss Pete will be rolling down a new highway."

Cheers,

Colonel Possum

Copyright Colonel Possum Publishing Co.

Next Episode: One Hour and Thirty One Minutes of Recession Relief

* You can read more about Colonel Possum, Sage, Big Molly and Elko Mono and their heyday in the Sixties. Here’s a good place to start:

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