Bring In The Angels

Knowing Your Destiny

Part 30 of 30

Throughout these inspirational talks, we’ve looked at the full extent of Destiny’s dealings. There’s a lot of good "goin' on." But whenever we look at either the micro level or macro level we see more turmoil, a more unfortunate picture than we’re comfortable with. And, like most things, we judge all this by its impact on us as the human race, how it might do us some good (as we judge) or harm (objective truth).

You know what my way is, to lull everyone into a state of acceptance, with a strong push toward the positive and optimistic, knowing that that’s what we want to hear. Yes, we recognize that fate and destiny are somehow tied in together -- as I saw earlier just today with another funeral procession on the interstate, always a jarring sight. The whole thing makes me wonder what happened to the old gravel roads and the dignity of the funerals of old. Surely the undertaker could take the side streets just to maintain some last shred of decency. Could it be we're in that big a rush to get to the grave? Food for thought, at least for the worms that presumably have a long-enough attention-span.

I myself don’t want anyone’s destiny to be bad, always in the gutter, or as rotten as they come. But it’s not up to me to judge. As varied as the things are that happen at the individual level, it’s still my optimistic expectation that the ultimate destiny out there for all of us is fundamentally good. Let’s say it’s a matter of a huge dark planet encroaching on the earth, moving in like the new kid on the block, who is also the cosmos' worst juvenile delinquent, we could be snuffed out in a second. That would be bad.

But what if it is -- at least in a psychological sense -- much as you hear it in religion, that there’s a macro level in our nature, however it may have evolved -- it’d have to be transpersonal -- whereby when we’re about to be wiped out we are engaged in at least one last trance, similar to the moment we personally fall asleep, and it is good? None of us are destined to wake up, let’s throw that in for the natural argument of the situation, but if we don’t know any difference, if the world becomes infested with aliens, with gigantic fangs and a persistent insatiable appetite, what are they going to do when they run out of food? They would have to eat themselves (or go vegan) and any aliens as badass as I've been imagining them, they won't be patient enough to make such a radical switch.

Just before this, then, angels or visions of angels within, will have delivered us, the greatest Destiny reserved like a fire extinguisher behind a pane of glass that somehow vandals didn’t dick with. The system worked! So the rest of us are gone, delivered, happy to flit endlessly in the great beyond! Can you hear my wings? “Flit, flit, flit.” With the angels.

Now here’s the secret destiny that no one expected. Somewhere there’s a number of people, newborns overlooked in a tiny village in Africa. Apes have nurtured them, they come of age, they start the new language, etc. And they’re very holistically oriented, environmentalism is their nature, with the foresight to build space shields against an unperceived alien enemy. And they guard and nurture their destiny. Finally, a little kid is born, basically the correlate of me, also with a destiny-counseling gig, but this kid is able to make greater inroads than I could ever manage, since the whole population is now just that little cluster. And so forth, and so on, you'd have to agree a very happy ending to an otherwise tragic set of circumstances.

Final note: One of the things people like about me is I'll move heaven and earth for a happy ending.

Billionaires Going Back to Adam

The stories of families are the stories of up and down. You get one generation that's really disciplined and diligent, and invariably they're billionaires. Then you get the next generation, and they're a bunch of slouches, who can't be bothered. They while away the time, never caring to develop even the slightest discipline. And with them, the billions are soon gone. That's a billionaire's sorriest experience, to leave his money to a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, doomed to immediately lose it.

We just need to quit dying, people like the billionaire and me. Because if it wasn't for people like us, I dare say, the financial gods would've wiped out mankind long ago, and there'd be no one to carry on the ways of wealth. I see the bad side of things all the time, though. I can't give society a good report. The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, and they haven't got a "give a damn" spirit. The spirit that motivated the pilgrims, the pioneers, and our other can-do ancestors. Back then, someone would say, "Do you give a damn?" And they'd answer, to a man, "Hell yes!" But not these days.

I look back, way back, and I'm happy with what I see in my own family line. Yes, we had a few rotten apples under the tree. But the rest of us were so completely brilliant that nothing they did could spoil the bunch. There's the generations I knew personally, billionaires of hardy stock, who earned their fortune the old fashioned way, through the sweat of their brow. And I heard the old timers telling about the billionaires before them, who remembered earlier generations, and on and on. According to one of my uncles, he traced our line back to Adam himself, using the Bible and Ancestry.com. The vast majority of those generations were billionaires.

Adam himself was of course a billionaire. Even if he didn't have a cent of money. How so? There was no money yet. But he owned the entire planet, every inch of real estate. He'd go out to check his world occasionally, when it was one solid land mass, which he named "Gaia." Then as folks were created and/or born around him, he'd sell them land, pocketing the proceeds and living frugally. He sold Asia to the hordes and never looked back.

As an aside, wouldn't it be fun to be a kid then, and be able to jump between South America and Africa? Always careful to not get trapped on the opposite continent if the drift was especially dramatic. I heard of some of the politics of those days. They had two basic parties, the Angels and the Devils. The Angels kept saying, "It looks like we've got a severe case of continental drift on our hands." But the Devils refused to recognize the basic science, saying, "That ever-widening wet divide isn't really there." True story, even if the translation from Ur-Language -- grunts with tonal variations -- is admittedly free.

The upshot of all this is, my people have always been billionaires, or on the verge of their first billion. You ask, Why did your family seem so poor in the Depression? I explain it like this: They didn't want to show up their friends and neighbors, so they put the big bucks away. Any display of wealth back then would have been seen as overly-ostentatious. So out of mercy, they pretended to have lost everything in the crash. But those "hard times" also helped my family, teaching them greater discipline. And added to their wisdom when the times were right to show their wealth once again, as well as making more, with everyone else in such dire need.

All in all, being extremely wealthy is very sweet.

So we go from the beginning of the world and Adam and all his billions up to me, banking $2.1 billion this past week alone! Certainly I'm very happy and have limited worries. If I need something, I buy it. That's how it is. If I don't need it, I buy it in case I actually do. It's all good.

Foreigners Are A Little Too Foreign

I was at a meeting the other day (absolutely true story, my hand's up), where the supposed benefits of foreign travel were set forth. The guy had been to Africa, and in his life, Pago Pago, Timbuktu, Europe, and probably Copacabana. And he had a display of rough handmade trinkets to prove it!

I sat there respectfully, for the most part, only clearing my throat and shifting uneasily in my chair a couple times for effect. As I watched his slides, replete with straw huts, shrunken heads, headdresses, nose-bones, and bare-breasted women, and everyone living in close proximity to trees, I felt a little queasy. But I was thankful, thankful that I'm not a foreigner!

I don't know how many of you have been to a foreign country. I actually have not been anywhere but right here on home soil, the homeland. Not even Canada. And certainly not Mexico -- God forbid. You can't even drink foreign water.

It always turned me off, what we used to hear about foreigners, and even now I feel the same revulsion at how they do things that are basically crazy. Such as the things they eat. Human flesh is of course the worst thing. But even the stuff we might consider better is still stuff they're fighting monkeys and anteaters for.

Foreigners. Even the word has a foreign sound to it. Because that's what they are, the other, something or someone apart from civilization. They're out there doing their thing, more or less one with nature. Nature as it was lived by primal man thousands of years ago. Nudity is natural. It's still how we're born. But in their case, it's also how they stayed! They're closer to nature in that.

One tribe of foreigners I saw on TV -- and it's an image that's seared in my memory, regrettably -- had big long sticks on their penises, like maybe 18 inches long, with something, maybe a string hooked to a counterbalance behind their ass to keep it erect. I saw that and spit my drink, "No! Don't tell me!" I fell to the floor laughing, and the ridiculousness of it all still makes me chuckle, after all this time.

I don't see any penis sticks in my top picture. But there's plenty of sharp erect dealyboppers on their heads. And I love the caption! "The chilling sound of the Boo-Boos!" You get poked with one of those spikes and you'll have a Boo-Boo! LOL. But for them it's "a summons to frenzied dances." If they go at it too hard, someone's going to lose an eye! Myself, I wouldn't approach to within 50 feet of that, let alone dance barefoot in such a crazy crowd!

And look at the other picture. Our civilized man is shaking hands with the foreigner, who's obviously sizing him up for a meal. But such plans could be hasty and premature, as we see that we're armed and ready to defend ourselves. The situation is clearly perceived to be potentially dire, as even the lady is armed. But it looks, amazingly, like the savage is armed as well, meaning it's more dangerous than I'd like, since I'm thinking he stole the gun from one of our guys, possibly his breakfast.

You noticed I called the foreigner a savage. Yes, I realize nowadays that's usually thought of as a politically incorrect word. But I feel we can use it anyway, especially when we reflect on its meaning. Since they are savages, we may as well call them that. And they don't know what we're talking about anyway. To them "boog-uh-de-boo" is a word. They're babbling gibberish, so of course they're not going to be real offended. And even if they are, it probably wouldn't take a lot of persuasion and they'd agree, they are pretty wild.

No, my friends, I'll leave the rest of the world to you. I'm happy right here! I seriously don't want to deal with foreigners!