By Matt Underwood Oil prices crossing $90 a barrel as this U.S.-Iran conflict widens feels like the punchline to a very dark, expensive joke that none of us asked for. Watching the numbers tick upward, I can’t help but be struck by the sheer hypocrisy surrounding the whole situation. It’s funny how, in the past, gas prices were framed as a national crisis when the political shoe was on the other foot, yet now that prices are climbing even higher—driven by what feels like entirely self-inflicted choices—there’s this deafening silence from the very people who used to scream the loudest. It’s as if we’ve all been conditioned to just accept this “short-term pain for long-term gain” narrative, a lie that’s being spouted so often it’s starting to feel like a permanent state of existence. Some people seem to have actually convinced themselves they like these high prices, or perhaps they’ve just been beaten down into a state of apathy where they’ll happily pay whatever they’re told.
It’s impossible to ignore the role of our strategic reserves in this mess. We are sitting at the lowest levels since 1983, with only about 319 million barrels left. It feels like we’ve burned through our safety net just to mask the symptoms of a deeper rot, and now that we’re approaching the bottom, the reality is starting to set in. You have to wonder where the long-term planning was, or if there was any at all. The cynical part of me looks at this and realizes that someone, somewhere, is making an absolute fortune while the rest of us stress over the pump. Whether it’s the usual suspects or just the chaotic nature of the market, the outcome for the average person remains the same: we’re the ones footing the bill for an ego war.
Looking at the way this conflict with Iran is unfolding, I see a fundamental misunderstanding of who we’re dealing with. Iran has spent forty years preparing for exactly this kind of escalation. They’ve spent decades decentralizing their leadership and burying their capabilities deep underground, essentially operating like a porcupine—their strategy is built on the reality that even if we can technically win a fight, the cost of engaging them is going to be so astronomically high that it renders the victory hollow. They aren’t going to fold just because of a few targeted airstrikes. They’re playing the long game of attrition, counting on the fact that we’ll spend billions while they spend millions. It’s a strategy designed to bleed us dry, and frankly, it seems like we’re walking right into it.
The leadership approach here, if you can even call it that, feels like a headless chicken running around in circles. There doesn’t appear to be a coherent plan for what comes next, just a repeating loop of airstrikes that never seem to solve the underlying tension. It’s frustrating to watch someone who has never had to worry about the daily costs of living—never washed a dish, never filled a gas tank, never managed a household budget—act as if they are the champion of the working man. When you don’t understand the value of a dollar or the struggle of the average citizen, it’s easy to treat foreign policy like a game of risk where the board is someone else’s life and the pieces are our national stability.
I find myself wondering if we are honestly still “winning” at this point. With oil prices pushing toward $150 and the constant threat of the Bab el-Mandeb Strait closing, we are one bad decision away from a global shock. And if that strait does close, it’s not just a regional problem; it’s an invitation for a much wider, more devastating conflict. Yet, despite the volatility, I see people treating this like just another Tuesday. Some are looking to bet on market shifts, others are just bracing for the inevitable fallout come November, convinced that no matter who is in charge, the prices are only going to go one way.
The most alarming part of all this is the sense that we’ve used up our last levers of control. We’ve sold off the reserves that were meant for true emergencies, and now that we’re approaching the edge of the cliff, there’s no clear strategy left to fix it. We’ve become masters of moving the goalposts, distracting ourselves with scandals and political theater while the actual cost of living drifts further and further out of reach. It’s an exhausting cycle, one where we wait for the next disaster while pretending that the last one didn’t happen. If we’re headed toward $150 a barrel, I fear that the silence from those who used to care about gas prices will turn into a roar of frustration, but by then, it’ll be far too late to do anything about the reserves we’ve already drained. It feels like a massive, collective gamble, and the worst part is that we didn’t get to choose whether we played or not. We’re all just strapped into the car, watching the fuel gauge drop and waiting for the engine to stall.