Industrialists drool when they're happy, or content, or in touch with their inner contentment. Because there's a difference between the contentment everyone else feels -- Miller Time -- and being in touch with your inner contentment. One is the fruit and the other is the root with the fruit before it's obvious.
I've already drooled three times this morning, which is rather strange, because I can go months without drooling once. What I write is all true. I guess I'm so stoved up -- no one's friend, afraid of my own smokestack's tower -- that the drool strings never loosen. I might drool in my sleep. Who am I kidding? My pillow's never wet in the morning.
What I've been decrying these many months, the ways of the industrial powers, really is something I hate. Probably because of the level they've reached. Not out of jealousy, really, but because I know they're against the rest of us, and what they've come to in life is so selfish it's dangerous. Yet they're able to drool out of that special contentment place, because they're one with it. How to be one with it without ruining it would have to be the question.
My own forays into industrialism -- the residential industrial movement, every man his own tire factory, or every man his own electrical generating plant -- have led me into some of this contentment, but I know it could go too far. (I'm up against a brick wall in some of my understandings here. Because I don't want there to be a big gulf between treating everything in the best way and having our industrial cake too.)
What I started with in the ideas for the residential industrial movement wasn't really meant to lead to tire factories on every block and all the rest, but to make the point that industrialism is ruining everything ... and to point out the absurdity of it all ... by giving the opposite absurdity that if these other guys get to have their own industry and ruin everything, why shouldn't the rest of us be able to get in on that. It's the old ethical teaching about 'What if everyone did what you're doing right now?' That makes you stop and think!
So ... why should the monster truck tire factory be able to spew black filth day after day while the rest of us sit here suffering? What if we all spewed black filth? It's a great question, and one that was answered with the absurdity of the residential industrial movement. Which now is a literal thing, with my neighbors and others around the world very proactively establishing factories, plants, and all the things of industry.
What a thing! Like Frankenstein's monster, my very own! And it won't be a week before there's a million industries meant to supply these, all kinds of kits, furnishings, etc. Meaning, very soon, every man will be getting a 600 page catalog full of gigantic desks and glass-paneled bookcases. And easy chairs. I could have my very own easy chair factory. Where I'd be sitting in our top of the line chair, looking out over my smokestacks, drooling.
Surfers probably drool, because they're on top of the world and the world's moving with them. That's the way it is for us industrialists. The world's moving with us, and will continue to move with us as long as it can.