Strike?

I dunno, I just don't feel like writing these days.
Subconscious sympathy for the writers strike?
A lot of 'em make four times what I ever did.
Make that eight times.
According to a SNL bit, their's make two hundred grand.
Wow!
Never did belong to a union myself.
Paid my own health insurance, saved for my own retirement.
Just an irrational desire for independence, I guess.
Would have been up the creek right now if it wasn't for Meredith who has the kind of personality to survive a corporate job at Boeing.
She believes in unions.
Just another link in the chain of social dependence far as I can see.
Schools, government, jobs, religion, unions, etc.
Mob rule behavior, the false impression of security.

Face it, a turkey who can't survive a volunteer job isn't made to make a hundred grand in an office cubicle.
So, thanks for that.

I don't have the personality for any of those monkey pile dog eat dog type of jobs.
I got Darwined out before I got sprung from high school.
Grade school really.
Sort of slowly flunked out over a period of about five years or so.
Which made it kind of confusing when the Rhodes people said I had this enormous I.Q and volunteered to help fund my "Graduate studies"
I still have no idea what that might mean.
If I am some kind of smart, smart is of negligible value.
Better to be morally flexible and insensitive to anything but one's own internal vanities.
For which I don't seem to have the proper talent.
I like to think that everyone has their own genius and that it is to be honored even if not understood.

So I continue to be a low class bum in the eyes of the "official" world.
And just another misunderstood genius in my personal fantasy world.
A legend in my own mind.

I'm alright.

Face it, we are all in this alone.
Ourselves and our imaginings of what others are.
Our knowledge of others is only an extension of our own vanity.
Trying to find what there is to respect in others even though one cannot possibly know others is why it feels good to try to practice that respect.
It is, after all, just a matter of vanity, ego, and self indulgence.
We all star in a play which we make up as we go along, assigning others roles as suits our own imagining.

I imagine you finding worth in this maudlin drivel
I imagine you finding all this ludicrous.