retirement...

By now, most many people would have picked up the shovels and pickaxes and gone to work. Me, I'm still sludging, or slacking depending on who you ask, through many more mediocre classes and cloisters.

You know how many people say they want a job? Why do so few people just skip straight to the point and just say they want the money? Me, I'm not too interested in the work. Work is fine if you get to choose exactly what the hell you want to do and not have to worry about being fired. Like, you could open a restaurant and kick out patrons for being too bitchy or if they had piss-annoying kids.

The plan follows naturally that I should make my billion within the next 8 years or so, retire, and do things for sheer pleasure. Those people always seem the happiest and have the least of concerns. Delightful lifestyle, requires some luck and plenty of brains. I like to think I have the brains, so I have to hope for the luck.

I've been told my version of reality is extremely stupid, but I've also been told that an all-loving God willingly condemns a whole bunch of people to what is assumed to be a fiery hell. I've been told that prawns, mushrooms, and a whole lot of unsavoury things are delicacies. I've been told that hard work yields results. I've been told that we are born to procreate and die. I've been told to shut the fuck up. And all I've discovered that about 95% of the things we've been told, especially by those in the "know" are also mostly bull-fucking-shit.

So, screw reality, create your own. Take the blue pill. The one without the V.