The economic crisis began with mortgage lenders throwing money at dolts who couldn't afford their payments.  Sad stuff.  Lucky for me, I've lived my entire existence in an economized state.  I'd like to share suggestions with all those super-sized Baconator chateau-living goons out there, who are making their first attempts at being resourceful and cutting back.

Dwelling
Your house can be more than just the spot where you rest your head or butcher your pigs - it can also be a vibrant moneymaker.  The spare rooms at Schrute Farms have provided beautiful memories for excursionists, while bringing in gobs of additional cash for Mose and I.  I also rent out my basement to a part-time dentist, which means even more money coming in, and free travel toothbrushes whenever I desire.

Clothing
I laugh in the face of your Goldie Hawns, your Diane Keatons, spending thousands on inane wardrobes that are hot one moment and offensive the next.  I sport most of my dead grandfather's garb - classic, durable, free.  And Mose knits our wintertime attire.

Sustenance
If you're 85 or younger and your appendages are still mobile, you should be hoeing your harvest every morning.  I've been living off the land since I escaped the womb.  It's not only cheaper than those preposterous yuppie grocery markets like A&P, but pasturing also gives you brawn.  No need for a gym membership.  Two birds, one garden stone.

Transportation
I bought a Pontiac Firebird in 1987 and haven't looked back since.  No car payment in 19 years.  Most of you halfwits forget that your vehicle is a machine, not an ornamental showboat to arouse the neighbors.  So trade in your cutting edge Accords and Eclipses for something more affordable.  If it has airbags, it's too good for you.  

Take all of this advocacy and run with it.  Or don't, and forever be a penniless idiot.

It seems that all the news last week was about the crybabies in southern PA.  "Oh no, it snowed.  What shall we do?"  Ninnies.  Stop whining that the government doesn't plow or that the government ran out of salt.  Where will it stop?  Will citizens expect the government to fill potholes next?  When will citizens take responsibility for themselves?  

Mose and I have two snowplows - one is a refurbished municipal plow we bought at an auction in upstate New York.  I will never miss a day of work because I can plow the road all the way to the office.  (Note to all the motorists who get mad when I plow them in on the side of the highway:  Don't stop on the side of the highway.)  

Second, buy your salt early, often and during the off-season.  I have three suppliers spread throughout the country.  However, only a fool would reveal his salt sources publicly. Should you not use it all, the excess salt can be sold to desperate municipalities in snowier cities for a significant mark-up.

Third, it is important to have several weeks worth of fuel in a secure location.  I keep firewood, gasoline, locally mined coal, and canned beets.  Sometimes Mose likes to play with matches so I cannot over stress the importance of keeping these in a secure location away from the barn with the chickens and pigs.  Also, an added bonus - empty beet jars can be used for waste should the septic system malfunction or they can be used to collect snow for drinking water.  Although these jars are identical, they are very different and should be kept apart.

If everyone stopped being unprepared laze-abouts, we would never have to miss a day of work or school for snow.  I never have.  That being said, Schrute Farms B&B remains open during any power outage.  Heat is functional in all weather conditions.  Plowing the road to Schrute Farms is free of charge.  However, should you need to be plowed out, there is an additional fee.  I am also available to plow any roads, driveways, or church parking lots for a modest fee.

I've seen Avatar six times. I like it fine. I'm giving it four stars, the highest rating I've given a film since Return of The King (for which I gave ten stars). To be honest, every time I walk out of the theaters, I'm a little depressed, (I feel like one and a half stars). Once you see the world in 3D, it's hard to go back...The film inspired me to build my own Avatar (I'm abandoning Iron Man suit plans - damn thing won't fly).

Had I been on Pandora instead of Jake Sully, I would have done things differently. First of all, my legs work. Secondly, I would have seduced Princess Neytiri earlier on; it wouldn't take two hours of film for us to consummate. And thirdly, the movie would have had a good ending (the film's biggest flaw). Had I been among the Na'vi people, we would have gotten the unobtainium - all of it. I would have led the military to Tree of Souls, and as it burned, I would chant the Na'vi prayer over a bullhorn, "Oel ngati kameie, ma Tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi ireiyo. Ngari hu Eywa saleu tìrea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì! I SEE YOU!!"

I feel like I'm overexposed. I'm writing a diabolical blog (and executing a diabolical plan), have a regular column in the Dunder Mifflin Scranton Newsletter, am an avid poster on the demolition derby forum wecrash.com, write letters to the editor several times a day, and maintain this web log. I'm spending too much time typing, and not nearly enough time doing (farm work, women, speed-typing competitions, etc). So I'm resolved to slow down and get in touch with my Zen side. I'll be painting on rice paper, contemplating the snow on top of my outhouse, tending to my gravel driveway rock garden, and unburdening my soul through Haiku.

"Deere John"
Cuts so very deep.
Green and yellow, blades glimmer.
Thumb gone, toe will do.

"The Well"
Deep, dark, and tempting.
Signs, fake snakes, threats do nothing.
Mose will never learn.

"My Awesome Car"
American Made.
Loud and really fast, vroom-vroom.
Total chick magnet.

Haiku is art and few have what it takes to write it. Do you?

Thanksgiving at the Schrutes is probably no different than the Thanksgivings you have at your home. On Thursday morning, Mose and I will go into the woods, not to return until we've killed a wild turkey. By the time we make our way back, the butterball we bought at the store should have defrosted. This year most of our extended family won't be able to make it, so there'll only be around forty Manheims and Schrutes over for the holiday.

While the women prepare our meal in the kitchen, the males of the family have the tradition of playing a good old fashioned, all American game of eck balle (corner ball). Then, like the rest of the country, we sit around the table and say what we're thankful for (for me, it's my new John Deere 345-HP 8R series tractor, my ability to hold my breath for long periods of time, my sexual stamina, and DDT). Around 4 in the afternoon, we feast on a five-course meal of turkey, goose, hog, venison, and buffalo. Later (4:15) we enjoy coffee and dessert (a choice of whooping pie or shoo fly pie) while Mose and Uncle Amos play dueling jugs. As dusk settles, we say our goodbyes as everyone piles into their cars and buggies to head home. Just a typical Thanksgiving.