Dignity and the Slacker

An underdog is by definition a lowly piece of garbage.  Don’t google it, you’ll damage our element of trust. I have been a dark horse or long shot  if you will, albeit never in the literary universe, I mean ‘as if.’ When one is in the situation of not being favored to win or working from any disadvantage, there are a couple of ways to go.  You can reach deep down within your very soul and ask ancestors back to the beginning of time, for the strength and wisdom to win. Or you can blame those same ancestors for a sorry ass gene pool and be done with it.

 

Not nearly enough is said of  quitters. The ‘top’ is bottlenecked with people who should have tossed in the towel long ago.  Energy, like heartbeats is finite. Would you slam your head against the wall in the business world daily, or relax on a stipend from a rich widow or widower?  Would you search tirelessly for a faithful, loving mate, your equal intellectually and otherwise, or would you seize the first gin soaked specimen from the saloon with which to share carnal knowledge?  If you opted for the latter in each scenario, you have energy and heartbeats in the bank.

 

Have you ever thought of having a house built?  The expensively priced contractor would have you believe proper timber, a sound foundation, appropriate beams and other unnecessary mark ups are ‘must haves’.  I’m here to tell you, it’s the same song and dance anywhere there’s a buck to be made. Building a home is a model for constructing your very life. Short cuts, short cuts, short cuts.

 

A mantra we’ve heard throughout is, “who’ll take care of your family if something happens to you?  Buy life insurance.” My family will do very well without me, thank you. In fact, siblings, nieces and nephews will breath easier, knowing I won’t be making the yearly phone call to...wait for it...borrow money.  Of course you will not have life insurance, car insurance, health insurance or whatever else they’re peddling.  Dying without leaving anything to would be heirs, is like getting the last tag, the final got’cha. A time most can only dream of, when cousin Harry, as the ‘estate’ executor, calls everyone together, opens the envelope and says, “he told us all to piss off.”

 

My point is the terms slacker or underachiever have been given an unfair connotation.  If you follow my pocket guide to life, as described above, the joys will seem infinite.  But before you start, pay for it and forget that notion of putting it under your shirt.

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