‘I love the smell of commerce in the morning’

Every man is rich or poor according to the degree in which he can afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniences, and amusements of human life – Adam Smith

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As an aside I think I would like to have a statue erected in my honor. I feel my scalp, devoid of any folliclular interference would provide a most excellent staging area from which countless generations of pigeons can defecate on my glorious countenance. If you guys can just wedge me in between Winston Churchill and Jan Smuts in Parliament Square outside Westminster that would be great. You may need to remove David Lloyd George. But I feel that’s not really a big ask. Also (if at all possible) I’d like to be wielding an ax. Thanks (in advance).

I started reading the Wealth of Nations last night. I decided to delay my commute home somewhat because of the inclement weather conditions (and the vehicular cluster fuck that this would undoubtedly cause) and went to the MALL instead. I found the Wealth of Nations wedged between Das Kapital and Steven Pinkers overly cheerful ‘Enlightment now’ in the Western Philosophy aisle at the local bookstore… So I rescued it. I am quite accommodating that way and also I’ve never read it. There is a huge Adam Smith shaped hole in the rusted out sieve that is my retention sphere.

Found myself, after two chapters flipping back to the forward to remind myself when it was written. 1776! I utter some profane utterance to underscore my amazement. It feels very familiar… but to appreciate it in its originality makes me a little giddy. Ha ha. I’m pretty sure not so long ago boobs (and the application thereof to my face) made me giddy… now its a three inch tome by a long dead Scot. How the mighty have fallen.

A book for all and none.

I’m casually re-reading ‘Thus spoke Zarathustra’, which, as it turns out, seems to be working out much better for my internet addled mind than reading it all in one go and then getting irritable and frustrated when it all starts to blur together into a lumpy alphabet soup of meaningless words and chunks of mystery meat. I envy people (that were gifted with concentration spans of more than your average Fantail or Comet) that can devour this sort of literature without having to resort to a piecemeal approach. How nice must it be to be them!

I interpose my exercise in mediocrity (insofar as all reading Nietzsche really does is underscore how stupid I am) with Playstation by pretend hunting hapless elk in a simulacrum western reality where I pick up faux-tuberculous and start to feel bad about my mass-murdering tendencies. I really enjoyed Red Dead Redemption 2… I’ve binge played it to (almost) completion, sacrificing sleep and sociability… and squashing that nagging feeling that I really should be doing something (with my life) that involves just a smattering more vitamin D.

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I don’t think Nietzsche would have approved of Playstation (or indeed of Red Dead). But then again, Nietzsche went insane… probably because of a lack of blowjobs. Wait… that might have been Schopenhauer… I might be conflagerating my disgruntled Germans here. In any event I’m pretty sure blowjobs were frowned upon by the Lutheran Junkers at the time… so certainly we can’t rule it out as a potential cause of dementia.

Continue reading “A book for all and none.”