Peak Oil

There´s an exposé about the Venezuelan oil-business at the Bolivar Plaza; right next to that quaint little park residing in front of the house of parliament, with children feeding peanuts to black squirrels; they gently tap the nut against the tree, and soon enough a little rodent head pops out of its sheltered existence in the crown, making a halfway dash down the base, pausing for a second, playing hard to get, until another little tap makes it go all the way and snap the food right out of the childrens pinches.

The exposé boasts on reserves making Venezuela the largest holder of that black liguid gold in the world, sporting some 300 million barrels it´s the swing producer in troubled times to come. Only problem being they´re not likely to swing the way the West would like them to.

But numbers are politics, and fossil fuels are what the politics and the numbers are all about. So whether or not you question the statistic, fact remains that it´s a non-renewable and it will run out, all the while we put blinders on and scramble for the final frontier of the arctic; because in times of economic hardship, longevity and sustainability and those others words of the day quickly fade into oblivion.

Remember the Kyoto-agreement? The Copenhagen negotiations, which was put on rotation seemingly twentyfourseven, whenever you flicked the switch there was another suit with a grave face at least being forced to acknowledge there was a problem.

Remember Durban? Who does? It passed by like a sneaky fart, we just whiffed with a slight frown and then it was dishelved downwind. Suddenly we europeans are threatened with a future that isn´t automatically spelled constant growth, and we´re faced with third world ratings of desperation and despair in countrys pushed to a threshold that we´re suddenly contemplating on raising; but we shouldn´t be surprised, because the Union was never about solidarity, it was about marketshares and protectionism. It was about the golden days when we had Khaddafi bidding our dirty work, creating incarceration-camps so our borders weren´t swamped with useless labour.

Now we´re left dealing with diseases we thought extinct, or that we at the very least had rendered ourselfs immune to the repercussions of.

But if the economic walls start to crumble, the curse of oil won´t be a tropical fever for long. We put our hands together and hope for a technological renewable solution somewhere along the way, in the meantime the oil-industry and the powerplayers connected to it can have its final heyday in the northern hemisphere, making Stavanger and Murmansk the new Klondyke, offering a quick-fix of a booming market, but it´s still a dragons-fly, it lives for a day, and I bet a chunk of Swedish state bonds that the knowledge of it being the very last drops, will also bring an unprecedented amount of corruption and greed into the hearts and guts of the goverment bodies even in our little sensible corner of the world.


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