You say it exactly as I have preached it to my circle of family and friends for several years. If the majority stopped paying attention to these people and instead told them to go jump in the lake, they would have no power.
In the end, we have overlords because of our greed. We kiss up to them hoping for a scrap to drop from their table. Their entire lifestyle depends on our greed. Bill Gates came to Jakarta a couple of weeks ago, and the wormtongues were falling over themselves to curry favor. Disgusting really.
I still have the original pink cover paperback of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" in my toolbox in the shop. Fixing machines is Zen if you do it right.
Fantastic book, though I long ago lost my original paperback printing. As a fresh young monk, I put the book to work. I was assigned to be the "wagon master," which essentially meant keeping all the pumps, cars and other ICE machines running. Disassembling, cleaning and reassembling motors became a powerful (pun intended) meditation.
LOL! Oh, I've written stories on my WordPress site about the Zen of doing an R-985 Beaver engine change in the quiet nights of summer at Kenmore Air Harbor. I'd listen to the classical music station on the radio. That is as Zen as I've ever been.
I can remember decades ago coming across a copy of “Homemade C4”, I think same publishing house as “Anarchist’s Cookbook”… like Julia Child walks on the wild side! The C4 tome was amusing, now whenever I see news about some random home in a quiet neighborhood exploding I think back to Julia, maybe the C4ouffle fell.
Those random exploding houses are either meth labs with poor ventilation, or former anarchists who skipped a step. We used to make some pretty righteous pipe bombs for out on the farm, but it you didn't keep the powder out of the threads, the wall may be wearing your face. Improvised bang-bang is a lot of fun, but does require attention to detail.
Exactly! Always saddens me when so many line the streets to watch a "Royal" parade on by. Ignore these useless eaters and they would disappear into the ether.
The amount of energy and expense wasted on "royals" is rather insane. In the modern era, it is hard to imagine why any groups of people still cling to these antiquated bloodline "authorities," but I guess there's something comforting about turning all responsibility over to someone in a costume.
Great essay! Yeah. Quit flying and maintaining these assholes' private jets, cars, and homes. Just say, "Get out!" like the barman said to Starmer in the UK. These billionaires can barely tie their shoes.
My wife and I have catered to these "privileged spawn" at Bohemian Grove and Pacific Heights in San Francisco. These folks are creepy.
I remember one privileged spawn at Bohemian Grove. We were in the outdoor theater area. (Clint Eastwood premiered his movies there back in the day.) I was in my B&W tux catering outfit, carrying a tray of snacks.
This drunken guy, about 45, white (of course), was carrying a glass of whisky/bourbon.
He told me, "This is the smoothest whisky on Earth. It was salvaged from a Mississippi River steamer that sank in 1862."
Like an idiot, or just to make sure, I said, "Can I have a sip?"
The privileged drunk looked at me like I was from Mars.
You say it exactly as I have preached it to my circle of family and friends for several years. If the majority stopped paying attention to these people and instead told them to go jump in the lake, they would have no power.
In the end, we have overlords because of our greed. We kiss up to them hoping for a scrap to drop from their table. Their entire lifestyle depends on our greed. Bill Gates came to Jakarta a couple of weeks ago, and the wormtongues were falling over themselves to curry favor. Disgusting really.
I still have the original pink cover paperback of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" in my toolbox in the shop. Fixing machines is Zen if you do it right.
Fantastic book, though I long ago lost my original paperback printing. As a fresh young monk, I put the book to work. I was assigned to be the "wagon master," which essentially meant keeping all the pumps, cars and other ICE machines running. Disassembling, cleaning and reassembling motors became a powerful (pun intended) meditation.
I agree, Rufus. Engine changes were my most meditative part of aircraft maintenance.
I can see the book title on my shelf: Zen and the Art of Aircraft Maintenance, by Timmy Taes. Go for it!
LOL! Oh, I've written stories on my WordPress site about the Zen of doing an R-985 Beaver engine change in the quiet nights of summer at Kenmore Air Harbor. I'd listen to the classical music station on the radio. That is as Zen as I've ever been.
I can remember decades ago coming across a copy of “Homemade C4”, I think same publishing house as “Anarchist’s Cookbook”… like Julia Child walks on the wild side! The C4 tome was amusing, now whenever I see news about some random home in a quiet neighborhood exploding I think back to Julia, maybe the C4ouffle fell.
Those random exploding houses are either meth labs with poor ventilation, or former anarchists who skipped a step. We used to make some pretty righteous pipe bombs for out on the farm, but it you didn't keep the powder out of the threads, the wall may be wearing your face. Improvised bang-bang is a lot of fun, but does require attention to detail.
Exactly! Always saddens me when so many line the streets to watch a "Royal" parade on by. Ignore these useless eaters and they would disappear into the ether.
The amount of energy and expense wasted on "royals" is rather insane. In the modern era, it is hard to imagine why any groups of people still cling to these antiquated bloodline "authorities," but I guess there's something comforting about turning all responsibility over to someone in a costume.
Great essay! Yeah. Quit flying and maintaining these assholes' private jets, cars, and homes. Just say, "Get out!" like the barman said to Starmer in the UK. These billionaires can barely tie their shoes.
My wife and I have catered to these "privileged spawn" at Bohemian Grove and Pacific Heights in San Francisco. These folks are creepy.
I remember one privileged spawn at Bohemian Grove. We were in the outdoor theater area. (Clint Eastwood premiered his movies there back in the day.) I was in my B&W tux catering outfit, carrying a tray of snacks.
This drunken guy, about 45, white (of course), was carrying a glass of whisky/bourbon.
He told me, "This is the smoothest whisky on Earth. It was salvaged from a Mississippi River steamer that sank in 1862."
Like an idiot, or just to make sure, I said, "Can I have a sip?"
The privileged drunk looked at me like I was from Mars.