Free

That's what I am now. No longer shackled to someone else's desk, I carry my life in my own hands and look forward to the future as I try to get my new business off the ground. When I first considered doing this I was afraid, but it passed as soon as I realized that I was being a hypocrite: here I am accusing everyone of spurning freedom out of a fear of responsibility, yet I have been doing the exact same thing for years on end. Just as many Americans can't conceive of life without the pervasive control of government, I could not conceive of life without the pervasive control of an employer. While both are demeaning, they offer security and continuity, and as time goes by we come to regard them as essential to survival. I have shed my Stockholm syndrome; my only regret is that I didn't do it sooner.

So who am I now? A man going his own way in a bankrupt society, doing what he can to live the virtues of his ancestors. I ask for no loan with an artificially-suppressed interest rate, but rather use my money accumulated from years of toil, engaging in true capitalism rather than the fascistic cronyism picking the flesh from America's bones. I ask for no "bailout" if I don't succeed, but rather will take my lumps and continue working to learn and improve. I don't take credit for other people's work, but rather offer my own at my own price. I don't apologize for speaking truth, no matter the offense it provokes, and I relish the opportunity to continue offending those who are comfortable with the perverted status quo. I may not be able to change society, but society will not change me, and that alone ensures that I will die a happy man.     

Tattoo Redux

Two otherwise talented bloggers have gone off the deep end with their terrible, awful, insensitive, and mean-spirited criticism of tattoos, here and here.  I may have expressed dislike for tattoos in the past, but these guys are engaging in hate speech and should be censured, if not outright censored.

A Man For All Seasons

I'm re-reading this wonderful play by Robert Bolt that tells the story of Sir Thomas More, a man whose peers viciously turned on him when he quietly but steadfastly refused to take an oath manufactured by Henry VIII that violated his conscience. Life experience allows me to read this with a new pair of eyes, for where I once pondered why everyone hated More so much, now it is perfectly obvious: he made them feel guilty for doing what they knew was wrong. Rather than admit this to themselves, they had to kill him in a vain attempt to abolish his memory.

I used to believe that when confronted with the enormity of his acts a man would repent, but I've come to learn this is so rare that it likely requires a religious experience to make it happen. Perhaps only that can enable a man to transcend his "fight or flight" instinct and become something more than a mere animal, since a belief in a supernatural presence who is immune to your lies will make you come clean.