It reflects the reality of life for people of Irish descent. In addition to the alcoholic and celiac genes, another mutation our ancestors bred into the gene pool is intolerance of a general anesthetic. After a simple and successful surgical operation, a patient who has this gene will have a fatal stroke anyway. We have to insist on local anesthetics only.
Anyway, that's the reference of the title of this status update. After six weeks of stress and anxiety, the physical Internet Portal store has finally shown a profit on the small investment I made. I'm pleased. On the other hand, what I have in the store is seasonal merchandise that won't be on display in January; my profits haven't been enough to fill the store with new non-seasonal merchandise--and I hate that,'cos I wanted to bring in a lot of things e-friends have made for sale--and other crafters aren't rushing to invest their money in making it a great multi-craft cooperative. I may have to take my profits and go back to open-air markets next year. The store has been a success but, if others don't want to take the same risk I did, the store may still...well, die back in the way frostbitten plants do. It will still have living roots but it won't be visibly growing above the ground. I'm not pleased about that.
This is a Tuesday and I'm not going to take the time to post a full-length rant about how completely cutting off all handouts to anyone who's able to come in and apply for tax-funded benefits, who is not either active as an entrepreneur or spending days in a day labor site, would actually help the so-called poor people in my part of the world.
The biggest source of distress to me, during these weeks in the store, has been those agents of the Evil Principle who may think they mean well when they say things like "Ooohhh, ooohhh, you're spending what little income you have and you're not instantly becoming rich! How terrible! How terrible! Why don't you just give up trying to do anything on your own, just go on welfare if you can't get an entry-level minimum-wage job at age 50, and for that matter just give up having your own home and move into Bedbug Towers, so at least people wouldn't be worrying about you or feeling sorry for you!"
If people are sincerely worrying about me or feeling sorry for me, the best way for them to deal with their emotional discomfort would be to bring a few hundred dollars into the store and spend it. Then I could set up a safe off-grid heating system and nobody would have to worry about my freezing in my own home, which I would prefer to smothering in some sort of horrible stack-and-pack warehouse for welfare cheats.
Given my able body, hyperthyroid metabolism, and habituation to physical activity, I'd probably be the last person in my town or county to suffer any permanent damage if we did have another snow disaster like last week's. Those who enjoy worrying and being busybodies might be better advised to worry about their lazy selves. For me, walking ten miles in the snow was fun. For them, it wouldn't be fun, and it just might become necessary.
Unfortunately other crafters who ought to be sharing the store and earning money have become dependent on a lifestyle of merely taking money. "I've 'retired' now," they wail, or "I'm a single mother and have to have 'benefits' to take care of the child," or "I can't afford to lose my Medicaid," and "Won't you just take a few things and sell them on commission, and slip me the cash under the table if you sell things?" I wouldn't mind selling other people's things on commission, but I mind bitterly that people are wasting their God-given talents by depending on a system that punishes them for earning fifty dollars here and twenty dollars there when they can.
We'd be better off with a welfare policy like Grover Cleveland's, where if people really didn't have food or clothing they got off the couch and bartered something for it, and nobody had time to sit around trying to tear down whatever their neighbor might be trying to build.
A book title comes to mind. Yes, Amazon still has a picture of the same edition I read when it was new. I remember being put off by the level of profanity in this comedian's books, but compared to the way many urban young people talk today it's almost tasteful.
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