The foolish rejoice in times of plenty,

but the wise store for the famine ahead.

They say, “All is well, the markets are high,

the coffers are full, the feast will not end.”

But I tell you, printer is coming.

The debt swells like a river after the storm.

It knows no master, it heeds no decree.

The rulers cry, “More!”

And the presses answer, “More!”

For there is no way forward but this:

to print, or to perish.

No man at the helm can steer from its course.

For the house is built on debt,

and debt must be fed.

Always more, never less.

They will tell you the printing will stop.

That the burden will lighten,

that the flood will recede.

Do not believe them.

For as surely as winter follows autumn,

as surely as night swallows the day,

printer is coming.

And it will not stop.

Ready thyself.