Don’t kid yourself. We are heading into oblivion.
Here I am in my sickbed in Beverly Hills. I traveled last week from LAX to DCA, where I sat one row in front of the absolutely fattest woman I have ever seen. How she got on the airplane and down the aisle to her seat is a puzzle. She was so large that even sitting still, her ample knees pressed against the back of my seat.
Plus, she shifted often in her seat. I don’t think I will sit in that seat again. Bad karma. I had felt a bit off when I got on the plane and the vibe of sitting next to that extravagantly enormous woman knocked me off my bearings totally.
I didn’t even feel the usual elation I feel when I step on the marble floor of DCA.
In D.C., it’s not the same at all now. My pal Russ is no longer there. I got in too late to see his girlfriend, Clare, and I did not feel up to going out to Clyde’s. So my driver and pal, Bob Noah, and I just had ham sandwiches in my kitchen at the Watergate. Then I watched the Military Channel, about a terrifying tank battle in Iraq, until I fell asleep. I really miss Russ, who is an amazingly smart young man with a truly unique sense of humor and ability to tell the truth. However, he’s in Charlotte now, following the life of the law. His destiny, I guess.
The next day, off Bob — who is also a great guy — and I went by car to Philadelphia. It was a gray, miserable day, with rain threatening. Bob talked incessantly about baseball and football, as to which he seems to know every possible detail.
I was still feeling dazed, forgot my phones until we were on Capitol Hill, then had to go back to the Watergate for them, a total waste of time.… Very typical of what my brain does when assaulted by fatigue. I blame that immense woman who sat behind me.
We stopped at the Maryland House, a fine rest stop with many different restaurants between Baltimore and Wilmington. Bob and I had crab cakes at Phillips Crab House, and they were swell. We even had cream of crab soup, which was also fine. There was a high school field trip stopping at the Maryland House. The kids looked bleary-eyed but they recognized me and crowded around me for photos. I liked that. I felt physically better almost immediately. I love positive attention. Like a dog.
Really, at heart, like Homer Simpson, I am a big dog.
Rain was falling as we headed back towards Philadelphia, I fell into a deep sleep until we arrived near the hotel. We passed and then went back to a totally, 100 percent empty CVS. We could not even find a clerk for five minutes.
Then, into the Marriott. I’m a stockholder, but I don’t like them at all. The halls are too narrow and the room service is pitiful. It took them way over an hour to bring me toast. That’s pathetic.
I watched a bit of the news. Lots of it about the Occupy Wall Street people. I am getting sad about them.
1. They don’t know anything about Wall Street. If they did, they would know that Wall Street is all about greed. It’s a sort of intensified microcosm of the human soul, where greed comes out to feed upon greed. Wall Street is not a foreign body in our midst. Wall Street is us. They — the demonstrators — are not morally superior to the people on Wall Street. If they had a chance to make money, they would make money, too. The main difference between them and the people on Wall Street is that the Wall Streeters work. These guys play and pretend it’s revolution. They are very lucky it’s not revolution. We already have the best system there is. Whatever comes after this will be dictatorship. (How long until the demonstrators are shouting about “the Jew blood suckers,” I wonder.)
2. The demonstrators don’t have a clue about what to do to fix the economy. The economy is afflicted by fear following the credit collapse in late 2008. The economy will revive when confidence revives. Businessmen’s confidence will not revive while they are being reviled, spat on, targeted by Mr. Obama and his pals and by these often-violent Occupy Wall Street children.
Businesses are like animals. When they are confident and there’s a meal around, they are extremely active. When they are being hunted, they are fearful and they hide.
For the demonstrators to be taken at all seriously just amazes me. They are just whining children. WHY DO WE PAY ANY ATTENTION TO THEM?