Brother, can you spare a column?

“Life is just a bowl of cherries . . .

You work, you save, you worry so,

But you can’t take your dough when you go, go, go.” – Rudy Valee, 1931

I have to say that I was quite intrigued (as well as frightened) by David Ethridge’s prediction in his column Thursday that this country is about to go into another Great Depression.

“In slightly more than two years,” he wrote, “over 2.5 million jobs [will] disappear, and the federal government [will go] from a record surplus to the single largest deficit in its history.”

Of course, such statements about an impending return to 1930s America seem to occur every time we hit a huge recession. So, I did a little more research. According to a widely reprinted essay by Robert Lavine from the beginning of January titled “Don’t Expect Another Great Depression,” this is basically a normal Keynesian downward slump, and a real depression is the result of a lag in innovation; makes sense. However, an article in The Star from March 19 is less hopeful about the chances of emerging from this slump: “This economy has very little maneuvering room left between expansion and recession, and it cannot afford another misstep.”

So join me, won’t you, as we place all of our belongings in a gunny sack, and hitch a ride into the future that is . . . our next Great Depression:

Everything will be cheap again. Won’t it be great when bread only costs $0.05 for a one-pound loaf, a new Chevy costs only $500, and all you have to fork over to attend a baseball game is a measly $0.75? Sure beats laying down $40,000 for a Chevy coupe or $40 to fatten the paycheck of a ludicrously overpaid (yet frighteningly skillful) short stop. Plus, all of those thousands of pennies you’ve picked up off the ground can finally be put to use.

Of course, there will have to be a few concessions made as well. Cars will once again have to be started by turning a crank, ballgames will once again be dominated by spitballers and corked bats, and since everybody will be out of a job, nobody will be able to afford to buy a loaf of bread anyway.

Despite that, another Great Depression may just herald the return of the great American novel. Think about it – who, since William Faulkner and John Steinbeck, has written a book that can truly be called a staple of high school American literature classes? Now we have more 300-page novels about hard-hit families traveling slowly and lugubriously to California and big, dumb, clumsy farmhands who kill things and get shot, without realizing their dream of owning a rabbit farm. It’s not my cup of tea, of course, but if you’re into torture . . .

Speaking of which, folk and bluegrass music is already making a comeback, and you can bet that the return of the Dust Bowl economy will result in the return of the Dust Bowl balladeer – that lanky, guitar twanging gentleman who rides the trains (not that there are any left to ride), befriends the farmer and the destitue American migrant worker (not that there are too many of them left, either) and sings the songs of the common man. And you better believe that if any of those songs show up on KaZaA, buddy, the RIAA will throw a fit.

And let’s not forget how another Great Depression will affect the fashion world. With the continuing trend toward retro chic, next year’s fall wardrobe will include dresses made out of feed sacks, stinking, unwashed overalls and, for the ladies on formal occasions, non-patterned floor length cotton skirts that conform to your body shape in absolutely no way whatsoever.

Shoewise, everybody will be going barefoot. And you won’t be able to afford designer purses, either.

In addition to all of that, 1930s style musicals will be en vogue again. Okay, so that’s already happened . . .

People will celebrate the ’30s Appalachian culture by putting out several best-selling albums of bluegrass tunes, (including the perennial favorite “Man Of Constant Sorrow”) which will win multiple Grammys. Right, so that’s happened as well . . .

The president will attempt to revitalize the economy by fighting a war with a delusional, mustached demagogue. Wait . . .

Rats. I guess that depression idea isn’t so far fetched after all.

So long – it’s been good to know ‘ya.