We were standing in a field, in the country. "Dam, LSP, with these clowns in charge anything could happen." Thus spoke my friend, a Master Plumber, and I agreed, "Ain't that the truth. Looks to me like the cheese slid off the cracker."
He didn't argue, "Slid off and fixin' to hit the ground." Spit, "Point being, I don't trust banks, 'specially with this $600 IRS bullsh*t. Don't want no part of that." Yes, and we gazed at the big Texan horizon and a pile of old T posts laying there nonchalantly in the sun while time slowed down.
"Thing is," I offered, remembering a bloodied monkey, "Put the cash in a safe and wake up and find USD$'s worth 2 Cents. That's great until it's not." My friend stared aggressively at a rusting pile of scrap iron, laying there under the glaring October sun, "I like the safe strategy, but there is that."
Another pause and a fat dove flew over, "Boom!" we went in tandem, airgunning cerulean, "If we were loaded up that'd be two misses, or maybe four dove. Limit out." My pal grinned through his Oakleys, "Gotta invest in something man, park that cash. Silver?"
My mind went back to a roll-on, a great weight of sterling and a ferocious simian, "I know all about that." Meanwhile, lazy birds flew overhead in the absence of flak and I thought fiduciary, "So where you gonna put that money, fella? How about DOGE$?"
A nod towards an horizon not long tamed, "I got that dog coin, and plenty of him. Not fixing to sell. Unloading Bit and Ether tho. Sell those coins. And it's all good as long we got phones."
"And internet?"
"Yes."
We thought about this and then wisdom opened the door, "You know the old country saying?" My friend turned his head, "What?" I replied, "They ain't making anymore land." Minds met as one, exactly.
I file this exciting and true post under "country life" and "anything else I care to think about." Also under "concealed carry." Better safe than sorry, what?
Mind how you go,
LSP
