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Don’t know that I will, but until I can find me 🫨

Every time I turn on a podcast or scroll through a video feed, I am bombarded by the same slick advertisements. Some smooth-talking announcer tells me that if I am feeling overwhelmed, tired, or just plain sick of the modern world, I need to click a link, get a discount code, and sign up for “BetterHelp” or another online counseling service. It seems like the entire trillion-dollar media machine is trying to convince us of one thing: you are broken, you are sick, and you cannot survive without paying a professional to listen to you talk about yourself. 

Growing up out here, you learned pretty quick that life involves a fair share of dirt, hard work, and bad days. That isn’t a medical crisis; it’s just the human condition. But the dominant culture has turned normal human struggle into a commodity. They have commercialized our minds. If you don’t like the mainstream narrative, or if you prefer the quiet woods to a crowded city, the media wants to label your deviance as some sort of deep-seated trauma or mental illness. They have over-promoted the idea that every mood requires a licensed psychologist to untangle it. 

The real danger comes when we buy into this corporate hustle and start labeling ourselves. When you slap a clinical sticker on your forehead, you hand over your personal responsibility. You stop looking at yourself as a free agent who can make choices, change habits, or pull yourself out of a rut. Instead, you become a passive observer of your own supposed pathology. If you call yourself “mentally ill” because you had a rough week or don’t fit into a tidy suburban mold, you start acting out the very script they sold you. You stay down because the label says you have to. 

Let’s call a spade a spade. Real clinical mental illness is a tragic, severe impairment that stops a man from working, feeding his family, or functioning in society. It is a heavy burden, and it deserves real respect and genuine, quiet help. It is not an aesthetic lifestyle choice, and it certainly shouldn’t be a trendy identity pushed by venture-backed tech startups looking to hit their quarterly numbers. 

We don’t need more ads, more labels, or more digital hand-holding. We need a return to basic self-reliance. It is okay to be an odd duck, to hate the hollow commercialism of modern life, and to feel the weight of a hard day’s work. Let’s stop giving away our power to the corporations trying to diagnose our souls, and start taking responsibility for our own minds again. 

Well, ISIS Better Not Make Me Late for the Shuttle on Rainy Days πŸš€

As I often like to note, most terrorists work for the government. I just don’t want to miss the shuttle cutting through the Capitol with my bag of bananas, rice, and beans as the rain is pouring down, just because a security screener wants to know what I’m eating for lunch, and why it’s so damn healthy.

I had to just pull the buff card for Jessica Bowen, do a quick Newsbank search and check See Through NY πŸ“° to see if she was a state employee, and if she regularly votes. Hasn’t voted since Primary 2009, not enrolled in a party. Had a kid in 2011 at Ellis Hospital, not a government employee. But yeah, I’m sure if I’m rushing to the shuttle now on a rainy day, they’ll want to inspect my container of kidney beans 🫘 extra carefully. Annoying a shit. πŸ’© But terrorists do that, make the government all the more obnoxious. I guess I still have the mind set of when I was in the Deputy in Research Services, but what was wondering how much an inconvience ISIS was about to make my life. At least this terrorist wasn’t colored, so the white supremists running the US government don’t have to dodge that bullet.

Made it in by 8 AM yesterday, πŸ•’ but ended up leaving earlier to head downtown to campaign committee due to the impending rain. 🌧️ Drizzling a bit as I rode downtown, and raining quite a bit harder all afternoon, ended up taking the yokel local, it so local busΒ  that runs even less frequently come Monday, 🚌 back home. Fried up zucchuni and headed off to bed after some reading and watching stupid TikTok videos about farmers πŸ§‘πŸ»β€πŸŒΎ doing farmer shit and slinging it. 🐷 Goal is to do the same at least to start out the day. Nicer day today, but yesterday would have been rather wet to head north last night. But I don’t know if I can get away for a three day weekend next weekend, but in two weekends at this time, I should be barreling in the SuperDuty for the Speculator so I can get my Labor Day Campsite πŸ•οΈ, and either work from the hammock or the Speculator Library by 9 AM. πŸ“š

Watching the market shit in it’s bucket. πŸ”½ Maybe all the AI hype is getting knocked down a peg or two, but so are my investments and future owning my own land with that burn barrel πŸ›’οΈ for all that plastic crap out back and shitting in a bucket, and messing with batteries and eating venison I butchered myself. I actually have been holding back from the market a bit this year,  πŸ€› hoping to get some good end of the year deals, plus cheaper valuations now mean more chance for shit to grow in the out year. But I do think taxes are going up on everyone in the out years to pay for the federal debt and social security, probably the Democrats will get blamed for that 🐴 though look who is holding the federal credit card today. Whatever, days, weeks and even months are pretty meaningless things, what matters more is years and decades. Recessions come and go, good buying opportunities even if I will be a soldier πŸͺ– on the War on Poverty and only worth six digits in next few years. Well on that note, it’s time to get in the shower 🚿 and then on the mountain bike πŸš΅β€β™‚οΈ up to Enterprise, so I can bypass the ISIS-mandated security. As Country Joe and Fish says, 🦈 “The one that’s driving’s got a bowler hat, the other’s got a fez on his head.”

Map: Benton Road Swimming Hole
Map: Mount Wahington State Forest