The ancients knew a basic fact, and, at present, we are relearning it.

You can have all the money in the world, but iron, cold iron, trumps a bag full of gold.

Kipling, in his 1910 poem “Cold Iron,” says it best.

“Gold is for the mistress – silver for the maid” –

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade!  

“Good!” said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

But Iron – Cold Iron – is master of them all.”

A great example is the Russian oligarchs, who often find that their superyachts and connections do not protect them from falls from windows, which they inexplicably seem to be drawn to.

A clear-cut case of a pile of gold, which does not protect from cheap, accurately applied steel, if you get my drift. There are many examples of this lately; a great one would simply be the picture of tech bros lined up in supplication behind certain leaders, who they hoped to buy off in one form or another.

Observe. These magnates, all of whom possess untold wealth, have been humiliated in turn. Federal charges were undropped against their pernicious websites, tariffs were applied to choke off their income, and positions of power granted were then snatched away. This was followed by rubber-stamped legislation that will cost their core businesses, well…everything.

All because these self-proclaimed geniuses and visionaries lost sight of the ball and basic facts—iron controls gold; always. Yes, you need gold for iron. But once you control the iron, the gold reverts to a supporting role.

Iron, indeed, is master of them all.

A cheap bar of high-carbon steel, funded by gold, attains a form that intimidates or destroys. In ancient times, a gladius was wielded by a Praetorian Guardsman. In modern times, an AK-74 is in the hands of an agent of the NKVD, the old name of the modern FSB.

Don’t pay attention to the gold; the flashy boats, or the private jets. Keep your eye on the iron.

As stated above, we are relearning this ancient fact. Personally, I never lost sight of this—I carried iron for far too long to forget. If the US Government paid me to apply my chunk of steel and plastic somewhere, I did so. To quote an old Appalachian ballad:

“No wealth, no land,

No silver, no gold—

Nothing satisfies me, but your soul.”

It’s a terrible mourn about the angel of death, the grim reaper. Why did people sing it back then? Because death was always close, an intimate companion seen on a failed birth, a sickbed, or at the hangman’s gallows. The spoiled children of the modern world have forgotten the so-called “good old days.”

Fun fact: they weren’t good.

So, here we are—recreating the world of iron. Congratulations. If I could, I’d opt out. In some ways, I’m doing so, and this is a reason I’ve been absent for a while.

I unplugged and did stuff, and I will again. I’ve lived in the world of iron, and I don’t wish it upon anyone.

However, some are relearning, the hard way, that no wealth, no land, no silver, no gold…will stave off the one who collects your soul.

Have fun with that, guys, and they are almost all guys.

“Iron, cold iron, is master of them all.”