In the bad old days of 1970s inflation the price of gold served as a nuanced barometer of fear. A small revolution in a geopolitically sensitive country or a misstep by one of the worlds secretive central banks would send the price of bullion skyward. Today the spot price of oil serves exactly the same function, instantaneously turning the latest terrorist threat or supply shortage scare into so many pennies per barrel. When I see the price of crude shoot up in reaction to the taped mutterings of al Qaeda madmen or to the swaggering of a staggeringly wealthy Gulf oil magnate, I recall the theme song to the 1960s sitcom The Beverly Hillbillies (lyrics by Paul Henning): Come'n listen to my story 'bout a man named Jed, A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed. And then one day, he was shootin at some food, And up through the ground come a bubblin' crude.
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