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This is just one of several posts about my current conflict with vengeful billionaire hypocrite Foster Friess. For an overview of the situation and chronology of posts go here...
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Six thirty a.m. came too quickly, and I was back in the mix at work. Chaos reigned in the lobby as birthday guests prepared for a half-day of riding horses, fly fishing, or golfing. Countless questions and complaints were dealt with as these needy old gringos overcomplicated the act of appreciating a comped vacation. Despite themselves, the other Bellman and I got everyone loaded on the proper shuttles and sent on their way. Service with a groggy smile but no tips rewarded.
Many of the guests weren't feeling too adventurous so they opted to go shopping instead. I drove a half dozen shuttles of birthday guests around town and earned $2 in total tips. Pathetic.
Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I came to assume they must have been discouraged from tipping as this is the only way I could fathom their almost complete disregard of gratuity. I heard that ten years ago when Mr.Friess threw his 60th birthday bash, he personally bestowed lavish tips on the "help". Maybe that's the plan at 70 as well.
When someone's got that much power over you, one can only hope.
This guy, Tucker Carlson, is apparently a conservative political pundit on Fox News. He's staying at the hotel and has been fishing Flat Creek even though it's illegal for anyone over the age of 14. Several staff members informed him of the law, but apparently he doesn't care. If I catch him fishing again, I'll make a discrete call to Jackson's Finest. We take our fish and game seriously out here.
In the afternoon, flustered at the lack of cash flow, I contemplated a different tactic en route to the airport. My mission was to pick up an older Yale and Harvard educated MD whose father was a pioneering investor that pocketed billions over the years. He then renounced his citizenship and moved to the Bahamas to avoid taxation. Some American.
His father's philosophy? "Buy when there's blood in the streets."
My plan was to strike up a conversation, steer it towards global warming, and spew the pseudo-scientific rhetoric of the ignorant disbeliever. Before too long we were having a good hee-haw at Mother Nature's expense and getting along fabulously. After picking him up, checking him in, and having his tuxedo pressed, Doctor Dipshit gratted me $15, two chocolate covered strawberries, and a hearty handshake. Hmmm... it worked!
His father's philosophy? "Buy when there's blood in the streets."
My plan was to strike up a conversation, steer it towards global warming, and spew the pseudo-scientific rhetoric of the ignorant disbeliever. Before too long we were having a good hee-haw at Mother Nature's expense and getting along fabulously. After picking him up, checking him in, and having his tuxedo pressed, Doctor Dipshit gratted me $15, two chocolate covered strawberries, and a hearty handshake. Hmmm... it worked!
One thing that I'm noticing in my dealings with the extremely conservative and wealthy is a unanimous belief that their financial successes arose from their own faith and dedication to hard work. As I poke around their online personalities and glance at the books they're reading, those themes jump out: FAITH and HARD WORK.
Unfortunately, their true faith is in a short-sighted economic model that resource scarcity is rendering obsolete. We only have one planet, and if everyone strove to succeed as they have, it'd be completely trashed already. It's only mostly trashed at present.
Also unfortunate, they somehow think buying and selling shit constitutes hard work. They think playing the market for personal profit somehow contributes to the greater good. They think GREED is GOOD. They are mistaken and their Christianity is hypocritical. After all...
In dealing with a whole crew of walking contradictions, it's no wonder I'm encountering very little actual sense. No matter how many charitable foundations (aka tax shelters) they've sunk billions into, they're just a bunch of WAR PIGS to me. And I see right through them just like Ozzy did 40 years ago.
This song's for all the Billionaire Buttfuckers out there... let it serve as a reminder what awaits at those Pearly, Pearly Gates.
For maximum reality, crank the volume.
"The Devil can quote scripture for his own purpose."
-Bill Shakespeare
In dealing with a whole crew of walking contradictions, it's no wonder I'm encountering very little actual sense. No matter how many charitable foundations (aka tax shelters) they've sunk billions into, they're just a bunch of WAR PIGS to me. And I see right through them just like Ozzy did 40 years ago.
This song's for all the Billionaire Buttfuckers out there... let it serve as a reminder what awaits at those Pearly, Pearly Gates.
For maximum reality, crank the volume.
Lyric of the Day:
Generals gathered in their masses
Just like witches at black masses
Just like witches at black masses
Evil minds that plot destruction
Sorcerer of death's construction
In the fields the bodies burning
As the war machine keeps turning
Death and hatred to mankind
Poisoning their brainwashed minds, oh lord yeah!
Politicians hide themselves away
They only started the war
Why should they go out to fight?
They leave that to the poor
Yeah!
Time will tell they are power minds
Making war just for fun
Treating people just like pawns in chess
Wait 'till their judgement day comes
Yeah!
(Bridge)
Now in darkness, world stops turning
Ashes where the bodies burning
No more war pigs have the power
Hand of God has struck the hour
Day of judgement, God is calling
On their knees, the war pigs crawling
Begging mercies for their sins
Satan laughing, spreads his wings
OH LORD YEAH!