A crisis shook the Alamo.

The federal ethanol scheme struck again. Already reeling at the price of tacos, the amigos appeared dumbstruck at the latest revelations: the cheese squeeze.

With about 20 percent of the nation's corn crop diverted from food to fuel — as promoted in television commercials with violin soundtracks — federal planners have achieved the ultimate in punishment of the populace.

Prices are up for both food and fuel.

The federales exclude these items in their favorite measure of price inflation, so what do they care?

Nevertheless, now came cheese, up in price 78 percent. Dairy cows eat grain, including corn, the price of which is up by federal design. This enriches agricultural interests. Spotting the loot, farmers converted other grain crops to corn. Now we have less of other grains and higher prices for them, too.

The implications for pizza appeared grim. Could beer be far behind?

The amigos and I huddled. Having come from Mexico, they were familiar with federal thievery, but they were not sure exactly how they were being robbed.

As a service to my amigos, I attempted once again to explain monetary inflation, as my wife complains I have done an inadequate job — just one failing on a long and embarrassing list.

So I tried.

Back in the day, amigos, pesos be made of gold and silver. We write it in Constitution. Fought big war for Constitution.

I pointed two fingers toward my eyes, then stretched out my arm and pointed at the American flag flying over the Alamo compound. They got it.

Gold and silver mean freedom.

For more than century, money solid. Hard to make. Must work for it.

But America big producer. Make more and more stuff.

I swept my arm across the panorama of the Alamo: beer cans, truck tires and cigarette butts.

Everybody nodded.

Pesos no grow. Have value. Buy more stuff. Price go down 100 years. America get rich.

Then, banditos decide make paper pesos.

I took out a dollar bill, ripped it to shreds and the amigos watched it flutter into the dust and into a particularly loathsome heap of duck poop.

Banditos want money. Cars, women, haciendas grandes. Bandito bankers make Federale Reserve, laugh at Constitution, print paper pesos, get rich. Bandito federales spend spend spend. All have muchos pesos, be macho mans.

I think I saw tears in their eyes, touched that I had learned their language.

Banditos no work for pesos. Federales no work for pesos. Make mockery of Old Glory.

Now, price go up 100 years. Taco crisis. Pizza crisis. Beer tragedy. America be poor.

I pointed again at the flag. With a stick I drew a swastika in the dirt and in a flourish finished off a hammer and sickle.

Then commenced a pitiable Spanish wailing and rending of garments — with an accordion soundtrack.

They got it. Paper money means tyranny.

And $50 pizzas.

Another successful explanation of monetary inflation.

Despite the misery and moral degeneracy of inflation, the amigos and I remain positive.

We have a cache of pistols, a pile of bullion, cisterns of water and wagons of grub.

We are in the market for some fast horses for when gasoline runs out at $30 a gallon. When the hordes close in — the feds and their bankers looking to suck the last breath of life from the Alamo — the amigos and I will dazzle them round and round in clouds of dust.

We'll ride with one foot in the stirrup firing carbines over the saddle, backward with six-shooters blazing, standing upright heaving flaming torches, mustaches crusted with beer and dust, grinning maniacally through missing teeth.

We will fight the crisis of federales.

Phil Lucas is executive editor of The News Herald in Panama City, Fla. Contact him at [email protected]. To find out more about Lucas and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.