I would like to lodge my official protest right here, right now. You may hereafter call me a raving ratbag, call me cold-hearted, heavens, you can call me a cab.

I would like to lodge my official protest right here, right now. You may hereafter call me a raving ratbag, call me cold-hearted, heavens, you can call me a cab.

But you can’t say I am without logic, as I know very well that I am indeed with logic and therefore quite sane – thanks for asking.

I would like everyone to quit moaning about the rise in gas prices, as if this pre-summer hike is a new and terrible phenomenon brought on only this past month by card-carrying members of a potential socialist party threatening to engulf us and change us all into Mao Tse-Tung look-alikes after the next federal election if we are so moronically stupid as to re-elect our current president – who according to the scaremongers is just waiting for us to re-elect him so we can all be forced to wear olive drab shapeless suits and little hats and wave little red books.

Oh, and be prepared to immediately grow a lot of rice so we can paddle around in our own paddies, content in the knowledge that we’re toiling mindfully for the good of the state. I’m sorry – I don’t know, nor particular care, which way you vote, but here is a plea to the media and ad campaigners. Give us a break. We really are all quite intelligent – no really we are – and we’re perfectly capable of making quite sane and rational decisions based on facts and not scaremongering.

And I think I can pretty much guarantee that the rise in the price of gas this particular spring cannot be laid at the feet of this president, just as it could not have been blamed on any past president for spring gas hikes in days gone by.

I think I covered this in an economics class I had in school back when Adam wore shorts. Something about supply and demand – can’t be sure, but I’ll bet it had something to do with the matter. Mind you, I slept through pretty much all of my economic classes – if that stuff doesn’t send you off into the land of Nod, I don’t know what will.

Ever since I have been in this country, the price of gas has gone up just before summer every year. It’s like clockwork really. I reckon I can safely depend on this happening well into the future, as much as I can depend on the sun rising in the morning, and on my ducks returning each spring (yes, dear reader, Howard and Gladys are back!). And while we’re at it, let’s quit moaning about gas prices at all.

Short of living in one of the major oil producing nations, where the price of gas runs from .08 cents a gallon in Venezuela to $1.44 in Iran, we really do live on Comparative Easy Street when it comes to gas prices.

At quite a bit under $4 a gallon, we’re way below most of the rest of the world. In England – are you sitting down – petrol now runs $11.25 a gallon in U.S. currency. France just hit $10.80.

And do you know why these countries have such high gas prices? It’s largely because their governments – you know, those other governments who have nothing to do with our current president so the media idiot scaremongers cannot possibly blame him – tax the daylights out of gas.

Here, the federal tax rate is around 18.4 percent. Canada, kids? Try 38 percent. France: 50 percent. Norway: a whopping 60 percent.

So it is time to get off the high horse and stop creating a stir where one is not needed.

Actually, if those people are so wildly hysterical about gas prices, they should, in fact, get on their high horses, ride off into the sunset and eschew gas altogether if it upsets them so much.

No, dear reader, let’s create a stir about stuff that needs stirring.

Like the fact we keep losing people to gunshot wounds; like we have soldiers going over the top and killing the wrong people due to too many tours of duty; like we have a woefully, completely, utterly out-of-control health-care system that will cause us all to self implode in the year 2015.

Like we have hungry people who have no shelter. Like we have a welfare system that pays through the eyeballs for single mothers to keep on having wee babies by different fathers, and yet we have a po-faced faction of the country who doesn’t like the thought of providing birth control because it just  might upset a member of our religious community.

Like we have teachers and police and firefighters and nurses who earn a drop in the bucket above minimum wage, but who are expected to perform miracles every single day.

Like we have politicians who earn big bucks and most of whom wouldn’t know a miracle if it reared up and bit them on the bum.

Priorities, people. Priorities.