Good riddance. When they started, it was all about the fool hats and turning the stodgy investment houses on their ear. Click the link through to their investment newsletter- they're in ties, and the fool hat is relegated to a trademark icon. I think there's an excellent piece of advice here. Sell out already, or shut the fuck up. Considering that their fortune in their "real money" portfolios is almost entirely due to extremely lucky market timing on AOL, I think the fact that they've managed to wangle their so-called "20%" return since '94 is a hugely misleading piece of nonsense. Yes, we're "still making money hand over fist", but it's now all "in the secret newsletters instead of freely available on the internet". Five years ago, they were heralding an age where if I could only make a better return than the measly "12%" historical return of the S&P, I could retire rich. Now, I've done fine for myself, and have always assumed a more reasonable 7-8% as my goal. Pity the poor sucker who built his castle on a future predicted to be 12, or 15, or 20%. Millions of stupid doley scum lost a collective fortune on iomega stock less than a decade ago over these wankers. I'm one of very few people who followed their writings who took the true gem of their advice, buried deep and in small print: "Dont follow us".
And off the topic of finance, how about all you lazy fuckers get off your ass and start producing to the level of "from each according to your abilities"? If you're so smart, for your ideas on whether or not to spend tax dollars on a smart bomb, a love bomb, or just getting bombed, run for fucking office. Yes indeed, sell out already, or shut the fuck up. If you're so ready to be a sheep for whatever cause seems to float your parade, act like a fucking sheep already and prepare to get sheared. Don't piss and moan about how you're govenment is watching you, violating your rights, mucking up the world with dreams of conquest. If you don't like the government, move to fucking Mars. That's what your great granddaddy did. You'll be a fucking hero. You'll be using your brain and your resolve to survive and be free, for a change. There is no freedon in govenment. Afraid that a jury rigged space capsule will cause your eyes to total recall boggle out and your scream to be silenced in the blackness? Welcome to four hundred fucking years ago. Ah, the good old days, when fuckers like you would be roasting on an aboriginal spit, or twisting on a inquisitive rack.
There are no frontiers for a middle class afraid to be poor. Your highest aspiration is moving into a decent school district for your future drones. Your dreams are lost, you ship has been pirated by the wanderlust of buccaneers like myself, and you cry to your king about treasures lost. I threw them overboard just for the hell of it, you know. I was depressed, and the shiny glitter as they sunk gave me a brief moment of joy.
I know you lot. You're smart, typically fairly well schooled, well read. Yet, for the love of a new day you can barely get yourself out of bed. And you know, deep down, all this ranting is about me: I've worked very hard and accomplished a lot and done more than my share of the work around here. and you know what my reward is? I'm fucking depressed because I'm on a bit of a downturn. Which for me, means I'm only putting in fifty-five hours of work a week, on my job and on my goals and plans. I'm mad at myself because no matter how hard I might yell at myself to gomer pyle one more pushup, the arms and legs have given out and I'm face down in the mud drowning. No one's going to pull my face out. there's no homecoming parade. stupid inanimate carbon rod. Go ahead- get yourself trampled at a sheep-gathering on a school night- there's a long parade of mourners for you. For me, there's only the solace of the silent sea, and a star to guide myself by.
This sadness, is it because I am finally happy? Have I finally learned how to reign in hell?