Holy shit, have you dipped a toe in the papers since Christmas? I haven’t seen such a doomfest since my Great Aunt Ruth was alive (to the extent she was ever alive).
You know, Uncle B has this theory that everyone is holding it together by brute force until Christmas is over, at which point the whole global financial doo-dah will shriek, burst its corset and spontaneously combust. I’m putting that out there in case he’s right, so he gets the bragging rights (and if he’s wrong, we can all rag on him together).
We’ve got cash, canned goods and armed farmers for neighbors. We’re positioned about as well as anyone can be, comes the shitstorm.
Graphic nicked from The Telegraph, on account of I am doing my best to squeeze a whole week out of the Christmas spirit — which, to me, involves equal parts gluttony and sloth (with a soupçon of dipsomania).