Besides, if they admit today that they can't increase production, a lot of people will not believe them anyway. And even those who do believe them might get angry at them. Shooting the messenger has always been a popular sport.
In either of those scenarios, you'd have the choice between Bad Stuff happening now and Bad Stuff happening a couple of years and a few billion (trillion?) € down the line. Oh, the Bad Stuff might be worse for the waiting, but I wouldn't be so sure about that, and if they expect the fallout to be bad enough to begin with, it really doesn't matter much whether it gets a little worse.
- Jake Ceterum censeo Chicago esse delendam
I would imagine that if OPEC comes out and admits that it can't increase production, that would have an even greater effect upwards on prices, no? The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom - William Blake
In fact if the price keeps increasing steadily but not in leaps and causes demand to drop, they can get away with a diminished production cashing in on the bonanza, while all the way blaming the "speculators". There is no incentive for them that I can think of to be frank about their production capabilities, and one shouldn't expect them to be. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom - William Blake
"We don't accumulate greater wealth with this situation, it isn't true."
Yeah, well, i've kinda checked the before and after photos of Dubai, and well... it sure looks there isn't any wealth being accumulated. (Perhaps he meant of course we're not accumulating it, we're AMASSING it!)
Continuing on, i've even begun to digest graphs and charts of all kinds, all pointing to the obvious, which then had me analyzing crash scenarios, etc.
Then, because it's quarter past the eight-ball where i am currently posting, i made meself a homemade Bloody Mary. I still don't get the lies and deceit, the kampf auf Macht, but i'm just so mellow about it all.
And then i remembered something i've tried to forget.
Back in the screenwriting days, when i barely kept a professional windpower persona, i was writing a real-time novel, and took a job as a marine carpenter in the shipyards i saw a few hundred meters from my rooftop terrace every day for ten years. Though most of my time there was restoring an historic Bay ferry boat, the main job of marine carpenters is to build staging for others to work.
For example, building staging so the pipefitters could go down in the hold and repair faulty fittings for the system used to get stuff into and out of the hold. In my case, it was a tanker, and it was an oil bunker of immense proportion. The foreman warned us to steel our senses, and make sure there was as little exposed flesh as possible.
I cried in tortured pain at the assault on the human senses, as every step and rung of every inch of ladder and landing and more ladder and another landing, deep into the light-sucking blackness, was encrusted with a tar residue black goo of the oil the tanker held, and i wasn't even at the bottom of the hold, where my comrades were screaming "I can't breathe." The revulsion to my senses was so overwhelming, i kept screaming to the others to get up the ladders if you can't breathe. (The shipyards rule is one dead is better than two, so when you are in enclosed spaces and the oxygen is replaced by oil fumes, you don't go to help them, you try to get them to come up.)
I made it through the first half shift, but upon flopping on the night deck grasping for air, i came to my senses. I went to my boss, and said, "i can't cover my comrades' backs as good as they've been covering mine, i thank them, but i'm not going back in there." Well, you can go home," he said. I did.
I would like to remind everyone who's thinking intellectually, economically, politically, and with strategic ends... Please don't forget that oil is poison. Poison. Skennah Kowa
