It was a bright and sunny morning late July when Bubba and Cletus finally got back out onto Sister Lake for some more fishing.

    Bubba said, "You know, Cletus, that there Guvmint class o' Mister Tate's is getting mighty, mighty intristin'."

    "Oh yeah? Howzat?"

    "Ever heard o' somethin' called inflashun?"

    "Yep. Like fer tires and such," answered Cletus while casting his first line.

    "Naw, now, come on, man, I'm tryin' ta have an telligent conversation with ya and you go kiddin' round. Frum what Mr. Tate says, this guvmint stuff ain't no joke."

    "Who says I'z kiddin'? Inflate tires, get it? Inflate!"

    "Well," answered Bubba, "It's got another defnishun. It's one of them economic terms, says Tate."

    "Umm hmm, ya got my tention."

    "Well, it's like this. Guvmint prints the money, seems like, much as they want."

    "That'd be nice."

    "Got those big ol' printin' presses. Mr. Tate dun showed em to us in a film strip."

    "Film strip? Not a DVD? Pretty old equipment ya all got down at the school."

    "Cletus, quite yer opinions, geesh. Trying ta teach ya something an all you can do iz produce commentary on the format of the videos. You think yer a regular Bill Jobs or somethin?"

    "Steve Jobs," asnwered Cletus, full of self-satisfaction.

    "Whatever. He the geeky one with the glasses?"

    "No. Black sweater. Bill Gates is the one with the nerd glasses."

    "Ha, yeah, yer right. Anyway, what wuz I sayin? Ya dun gone and made me fergit."

    "You wuz sayin' I wan't him," answered Cletus.

    "Right. Zactly. You ain't, just so ya know."

    "Got it," answered Cletus. "Preciate that info, too, seein as how I wuz confused and all."

    "Aw now come on, Cletus, are you gonna let me git to the point?"

    "I ain't stoppin' ya, am I?"

    "Anyways, Mr. Tate says we're an Inflashun Nation now."

    "That kinda reminds me of that cartoon they used to play back during those three years I wuz in the fifth grade. You remember? Conjunction Junction, what's yer function, hooking up trains and watching 'em grow now," Cletus sang, proud to remember the tune.

    "It's not 'watching 'em grow,' it's watching 'em go!' Trains don't grow!" said Bubba.

    "Aww, and now yer a music expert, too. Gotta tell ya, Bubba, not sure I like what all this schoolin's doing to ya!"

    "Yer a pain, Cletus, ya really are."

    "Tell me 'bout yer Inflashun Nation already," said Cletus, reeling in a small panfish.

    "Well, seems the guvmint can print all the money it needs. Only problem is, the more they print, the more it hurts all the other dollars already out there."

    "How so?" asked Cletus.

    "On account of the fact that if everybody has more, it's all worth less."

    "Did you say worthless, or worth less?"

    "Worth less. Man, yer a picky one."

    "Well," answered Cletus, a little offended, "They mean two very differnt thangs!"

    "Not really, according to Mr. Tate. If the dollar's worth less long nuff, then it will be worthless."

    "Got me there."

    "So as I wuz sayin'. Seems the guvmint's been crankin' on the ol' printin' press quite a bit lately. Pumping trillions a them dollars out there."

    "Sure wish they'd pump some in my direction," said Cletus.

    "Wouldn't matter eventually, you knucklehead. Cuz the more they pump out there, the more the one's already out there's worth less."

    "Worth less. There you go. You said it again."

    "Yes Eisenhower, worth less."

    "You mean Einstein."

    "Who?" asked Bubba, clearly annoyed at being interrupted again.

    "Einstein. You called me Eisenhower for being so smart. I think you meant Einstein. Eisenhower was a president or a general or a post master or sumthin'."

    "So now yer a dawgone geologist, too?"

    "What?" asked Cletus, tossing the panfish back into the water.

    "Never mind. Anyways, Cletus, inflashun is a lot like beer at a party. It's great in little doses at first."

    "I hear that!"

    "But after a bunch of forties, they kinda don't mean as much to ya."

    "You mean ta say, they're worth less."

    "Worth less, yes," said Bubba, placing heavy emphasis on the break between the words. "Mr. Tate says it's a lot like the Law of Diminishing Reruns."

    "Diminishing Reruns? What's that?" asked Cletus.

    "When the more ya git of sumthin the less it means to ya, said Mr. Tate, anyway."

    "I think ya mean Diminishing Returns, least-wise, that would make more sense," said Cletus catching another panfish.

    "Now yer a dad-gummed spelling teacher!" barked Bubba.

    "Spelling? That ain't spelling! It's nomenclature!"

    "Nomen what?" asked Bubba, completely frazzled.

    "Aw, never mind, Bubba. Jis keep on teachin' me, will ya? You were sayin' bout the Inflashun Nation bein' like beer."

    "So the more they print, the less yours is worth."    

    "Here we go agin."

    "But that's how it works. Mr. Tate sayz its like robbin' ya during broad daylight. Even if ya saved a bit a money, the value of it disappears out of it."

    "How's it do that?"

    "Like beer from a bottle at a party. I thought I already told ya that part."

    "Oh yeah."

    "So that's Inflashun."

    "Conjunction Junction, what's yer function? Hooking up trains a
nd watching 'em grow, yeah!"

    "You gotta stop that singing Cletus, or I'm not gonna be able ta fish."

To Be Continued