flexibility

FLEXIBILITY


Flexibility is the key to future bliss. No, not the flexibility like the wife used to demonstrate when she gave a crap about pretending that your junk didn’t offend her and so contorted into different positions like the Divine Monkey Self Gratification position. The flexibility just to live life. Now, I know I’ve brought this up before, or at least a minion did and I’m taking all the credit. A lot of my blathering just gets down to the basic need to be flexible when needed. Let’s say that you are working a high paying job, one of the three left in the country not involving screwing people over financially but rather making or designing something. With that high paying job you are buying a four wheel drive Hummer with roof mounted squad automatic machine gun which is one pimping ride for getting you to your mountaintop concrete doom bunker. Because your wife insists that little Junior go to the best school ( you have your doubts that the retard is retaining anything, and you notice a striking resemblance between Junior and the UPS guy that may or may not have had a heavy box dropped on his head but most likely was just born that way ), it has become necessary for her to also work at a professional job some distance away. Between the payments on the Hummer, the retreat mortgage, the house mortgage, the tuition and the two commuter cars, things are a bit tight. It didn’t help that you just stockpiled ten thousand dollars worth of freeze dried foods to keep the dog in post-apocalypse food, but you felt it was a necessary expense. How much flexibility does this couple have? Can they afford a drop in income if one gets laid off? Could they, oh, say, take a cut in income to become self employed so they can move to rural Montana to be with the other members of their cult? Could they handle a ten percent hike in taxes as they are classified as rich?

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A survivalist strategy that is based on only one catastrophe occurring, and on your time frame, is a recipe for disaster. It isn’t prudent to ONLY bet on a long slow drawn out collapse ( really? You think the oil will last long enough to feed all our surplus people while we wait around for a natural population decrease? ), nor do you burn all your bridges betting on an imminent overnight collapse. Flexibility is stocking a core of basics and then, time permitting, adding to it. If time is not forthcoming, you still eat. The longer the collapse is in coming, the better you eat. But ONLY stocking the best food doesn’t give you that flexibility.

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If you insist on living in only one area, you are at the mercy of the housing market, the local taxes and the local job market. If you insist that only a house is the legitimate shelter option, you get to watch helplessly as year after year the ghetto gets closer until one day you spend all you food money on iron bars for the windows. At heart, isn’t all this dogmatic insistence on worshipping the old wealth paradigm a recipe for disaster? Wealth is intangibles. Love, good health, peace of mind. Success is a full belly, any kind of roof over your head and basic security. Doo-dads and gewgaws do nothing but make others rich as they provide your insecure bird-brain with status symbols and the illusion of wealth. If you are willing to live on the bottom, you only improve by going up. If you insist on only living the best, you only have down to look forward to. Think for yourself, and concentrate on making you flexible ( if the family doesn’t want to go along on the ride, you are a wallet, not a dad/husband. Think on that ).

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God, is the above trite drivel, or what? Forgive me, today was a bear. It is still full blast Christmas at all the towns retailers, and I’m busier than a one fingered pimple popper trying to shove all the crap into the company truck and getting it back in the allotted time ( with fun activities like trying to clean a hundred dozen eggs and repackage them in between picking up more abused and worthless crap ). The job is basically that of a scavenger, and I know my place in this ecosystem. My complaint, which while a complaint is still a good problem to have, is the insane volume of material I must scavenge. At times it almost defies the laws of physics. Anyway, I worked way over into lunch and had to take this home with me and I’m not focusing my best out of my habitual time frame. Which is also the excuse you get for…Welcome, rock and roll fans, to December 8th, the birthday of Jim Morrison. Quite the few old fuddy duddies didn’t care for the man, dismissing him with labels such as Drug Addict or Hippie. Hey, Morrison might have been one screwed up individual, but if you look back a few hundred years, a lot of the now famous poets were bat crap crazy bastards. Jim always considered himself a poet, not a rock singer. Rock was just what sold and kept him in mind altering substances which he could use to write more poetry. A virtuous circle. Kind of like I love to read about the end of the world so I write about it to earn money to buy more books on the end of the world to get more ideas to write about so I can buy more books, etc. Not that I have crap for ideas today, but you get the idea. Everyone just loves REM for “it’s the end of the world”, but I prefer Jim’s “this is the end, my friend”. Can you imagine any other song opening up the movie “Apocalypse Now”?

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