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The jigging of the sawed puzzle of metaphorical fault lines is an exercise in futility as the disease has reached the point of no return.

 

Addendum;
Now for you skeptics and swingers of gratutious salms that are now thinking I am speaking from the perch of my white privilege keep in mind I was inspired to be a Victor instead of Victim by a great black man’s book; “Manchild in the Promised Land” by Claude Brown, if black man Claude Brown could rise out of the slums of Harlem, I also could rise above the trashy beginnings of my start as well.  That said, I do acknowledge the hurdles for minorities are taller than mine and I salute all who the Victors who except the challenge.

When a society tolerates Anarchy and decadence; chaos is their reward for their coddling of rot.
Autoimmune Disease Of Society
By Daryl L. Hunter

In this land of riches, I often ponder the puzzle of why so many are so dissatisfied?

Maybe because I was raised in poverty, I appreciate our bumper crop of opportunity more than those born into relative comfort. I love the golden goose of freedom the free market system where this guy born into poverty, flunked out of school because of dyslexia can still bill $125.00 per hour for my services; how can a system be any better than that? I am insatiably curious of entirely to many things I watch, analyze the jig and the saw of the puzzle, then attempt to conclude.

I grew up in San Luis Obispo California a perfect Mediterranean climate except it is better than the Mediterranean because of the lack of humidity. I did not know the miserable heat of Phoenix, the bitter cold of Ely Minnesota, the humidity of Houston. I was unsatisfied with the place, it was my baseline, I had no perspective because of the accident of where I was born; there must be something better I thought.  There was a terrible paucity of verdant forest, granite spires and trout; I didn’t have everything, how unfair I say facetiously.

I found my personal Eden in the Yellowstone Region with the desired trout, granite and a landscape where Noah’s boat must have run aground because wildlife is everywhere. Oddly here I found many like myself that found the nirvana of their desire but still found such fault they fell into discontent and mental turmoil; I puzzled about why?

Over 4 million years humans evolved from a meek little thing whose only defense was his stench and wit. Hardship was the normal course, not the exception; solving survival problems is in our DNA. As an observer of sociology and the WTF of it, I can’t wrap my head around what so many find wrong in this land of opportunity; I now have a theory.

A dozen millennia ago it was important for us to go attack a Mammoth.  Two millennia ago society was evolving; and agriculture had largely replaced hunting, we did though have to struggle against the tribe on the other side of the mountain.

Since we as a species are hardwired to overcome obstacles, what might happen when there are no real ones?

I have rheumatoid arthritis, an autoimmune disease where I have to many white blood cells; the function of white blood cells is to fight viruses and infection. RA is merely an overabundance of what would be a good thing.   When my white blood cells have no infection or viruses to fight, they attack my body.

To my observation, America’s discontented are merely equitable to the autoimmune disease of American Society; they have no "real" obstacles to overcome so they create something to attack. Today in westen society real survival problems barely exist, sure the self-defeating, like many of my family,  place hurdles in front of themselves they don’t care to negotiate, but that is another story, opportunity is abundant for those who try.

The jigging of the sawed puzzle of metaphorical fault lines is an exercise in futility as the disease has reached the point of no return.

Addendum;
Now for you skeptics and swingers of gratutious slams that are now thinking I am speaking from the perch of my white privilege keep in mind I was inspired to be a Victor instead of Victim by a great black man’s book; “Manchild in the Promised Land” by Claude Brown, if black man Claude Brown could rise out of the slums of Harlem, I also could rise above the trashy beginnings of my start as well.  That said, I do acknowledge the hurdles for minorities are taller than mine and I salute all who the Victors who except the challenge.

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