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More than a gas company
In the past two months, we've received three letters from three different "gas and oil" or "mineral rights" representatives, each containing outlandish claims. They all offer a future of fuzzy sunshine, imaginary roses and promised cash - more money than I could possibly imagine - if we would only sign on the dotted line.
It's not because they want to make money. It's because they care about us. They're more than just gas companies.
These days the county's office of records is awash with visitors. So many Texans, so little time. The deeds to farms like ours in Amwell have been fingered more than Eric Clapton's guitar.
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It then goes on to promise the moon, sun and a repeat Super Bowl if I'd only sign on the dotted line.
The problem, of course, is that we're not "Mr. And Mrs. Palson." Instead, we're Mr. And Mrs. Paulsen. If you can't spell the name correctly, chances are you'll screw something up when you're crushing shale and unleashing flammable gasses while drilling under my house.
The second letter offered friendship. Along with more cash than I could possibly imagine, Amalgamated Minerals and Car Wash Mini-Mart promised to hold my hand through these difficult and confusing times. "We realize that you've probably received other offers," their letter stated. "Please remember that Amalgamated will be there for you."
I called immediately to see what day a representative could come by to help move the horse manure pile. After all, that's the sort of thing friends do. "I've got an extra shovel," I told the receptionist.
Haven't heard back from them yet.
My favorite letter came from a company in Ohio. "We at Transient Industries would like to welcome you to our family. A family operated business, Transient has made it profitable for landowners to lease the mineral rights of their holdings ..."
I didn't even finish reading the letter. I rushed to call their toll-free number and asked the guy who answered the phone what time Thanksgiving dinner started.
"What would you like us to bring? Cranberry sauce? Little olives, stuffed with cheese? A six-pack and a holey undershirt? After all, you want us to be family, right? Hey. By the way," I continued. "Did I tell you what the doctor said about my infected goiter?"
He hung up, which was disappointing, with us being "family" and all. I always look forward to sharing my many medical maladies with my sister during our weekly chats.
I guess I'll just wait for the next letter.
To hear Scott Paulsen's column, visit www.observer-reporter.com. He can be heard each weekday afternoon from 3-7 p.m. on 1250 ESPN Radio.
Welcome : 11/1/2009
Welcome to our world in Hickory, Scott. It starts with the liars and only gets worse. Fresh air on occasion would be interrupted with cow manure, now it is just toxins, no big deal. Thank you Pennsylvania. Thank you Barry Stout. Thank you Jesse White. You al serve us so well.
Gas is good food : 11/1/2009
You forgot to mention the toxic air and water that you brought with you. You forgot to mention the roughneck mentality that goes with the industry, “we leased your mineral rights, the land is ours now boy”. You had to leave your homes to keep your jobs? Is that another way of saying that you destroyed your land, now you wish to destroy what is others.
