First Post

What do I have to say that isnt said 10,000 times already? I feel like the character in Tropic Of Cancer that always ripped up whatever he wrote because it resembled something he had already read. But he also said that if he was paralyzed in a wheelchair he would give those pricks something to read! Now its childishly easy to get blog-published but in the tidal-wave of opinion I might as well be speaking to my cat.
I've lately been cursed with the thought that I am going to die very soon. Just a vague feeling, probably engendered by the senseless suddeness of other people's deaths around me and the desire to avoid a long, lingering, painful old age. An old age cursed by the bankruptcy of this foolish society. When the 'entitlement' shit hits the fan and the current accounts are empty at Social Security and whatever they decide to name the National Health Care System (which will deliver a level of care that will make us look back on the Veteran's Administration and Martin Luther King General butcher shops fondly) the money-hungry beaurocrats will have only one giant pool of untaxed wealth...the pensions and 401k's of the aging Yuppies. The consept of ownership and property and its relationship to freedom, so eloquently described by F.A. Hayek, Milton Friedman and George Gilder among others, is rapidly being lost in our drooling post-literate TV fog of narcissism. We are near the tipping point now; much closer than is generally perceived, where the level of taxation and regulation begins to strangle initiative and economic health. We have a permanent Civil Service which increasingly acts in its own interests outside the bounds of political discourse or even of the law, and whose interests are championed by almost the entire political and cultural castes.
But why be bleak? As Woody Allen's mother said in Annie Hall,"So why is this your business?"
Indeed. I have a tendency to hide in abstraction from the problems I dont face in my concrete existence...my lack of honesty and my intense self-doubt and the feeling that all my dreams were just that, just idle amusement as I wait for the icy fingers of death to still my heart. That little drama- no matter.