I’m a lucky guy. I admit it freely. Graduated college (got through in ’75, but they wouldn’t give me my diploma until the rest of the class got through in ’76) into what turned out to be a bad economy caused by what was generally conceded to be the Worst President Evah (Carter. Nobody can rest on his laurels, there is always someone else coming along to take your title). Worked in retail for an up-and-coming bunch when I had to, then lucked into a good job (they were supposed to hire a Black woman for the numbers, but I wore them down) working in a generally hated industry during the boom times, made a little bit of money, then let it ride during the amazing stock runup of the 80s and 90s. Didn’t get out quick enough to preserve it all when the dot.com bubble burst, but since I didn’t understand the techies, I wasn’t heavily invested techwise, and I still kept enough to let a simple guy with simple tastes survive. Then I ran some construction crews, because I can speak the language of people who don’t speak the language, if you take my meaning. I can communicate the objective to folks who don’t care about the objective.
I haven’t really worked since I turned 50 almost a decade ago, mainly because there isn’t anything that I want to do, and know how to do. I’ve piddled at this and that, ‘consulted’ for a couple of folks (a Consultant is just someone who knows what happened before, and is willing to say that it’ll happen again), and done a couple of contract gigs (no, they didn’t involve gunplay. I don’t do that. Yet.) and dabbled with a couple of stocks until I realized that I didn’t know how the market works anymore. I don’t have an income to speak of, but I have some stuff, and am willing to sell it off for survival (anybody want to buy a numbers-matching ’67 Cutlass convertible? Rides and drives, as they say.). I’ve got nothing major to complain about. Yeah, I kind of wish I’d not abused the body so hard, but what’s done is done, and I’ll take the pain. It serves me right. Everybody told me better, they just couldn’t make me do better.
But here’s the thing. It doesn’t look like that folks starting today are going to be able to replicate my run. It looks to me like you’re going to have to hit every light green, bet every hand exactly right, have the sun shine on you even at night just to get by. Folks…it ain’t likely to happen. Where is the half-bright redneck going to go to survive? What is the little guy (and I never expected to be anything else) supposed to do?
If we have become the type of Old World order where you have to know somebody to be somebody, I don’t think the United States of America will long survive.
It just might be that the Grandees running things see that too. Maybe that’s why the buckles on the straight-jacket are constantly being pulled tighter. Maybe that’s why they are slavering to ban private ownership of guns. Maybe they are doing it not just because they are anti-American, but because they fear America. Leftists always have feared and hated America.
They are probably right to do so. Fear America, I mean. We Americans can be an unruly bunch, left to our own devices. We tend to let things go until the last minute, then try to fix it all in a rush. You make mistakes that way.
I hope that we’ve got a couple of more mistakes in us. I hope that the next mistake isn’t our last.
Hope is a lousy plan.