Born in an era when America is still a free country. The people elect their leaders with votes counted by hand before reliable witnesses. Vote fraud is discouraged. Google "The Battle of Athens." Fresh milk and eggs delivered to your door at 6:00AM, straight from the farm. We didn't know they were organic.
I watch The Wizard Of Oz. Dorothy's slippers are ruby. The bricks in the road are yellow.
I walk along the sidewalk and a cop will pull over and offer me a ride. Not in the back behind bullet proof glass, but right up front - next to the dashboard mounted shotgun - where I get to talk to the dispatcher on the mic. I travel with my grandfather on an airliner. He takes a shotgun with him in a hard shell case and sticks it in the overhead luggage compartment. No one so much as looks twice. WWII had ended 15 years earlier and millions of GI's got to bring their guns home with them. Skinny terrorists with box cutters? You've got to be kidding me.
A public school rebel. Bored out of my mind. Watch flies land on my desk. Finish work early, try to help the kids around me, drive my teachers crazy. Curiosity is my only drug. ADD hasn't been invented yet. Nurses don't pass out drugs, just band aids.
My grandparents own a small cottage on a large pond in central Massachusetts. A friend owns a hydroplane which is a short speedboat that can go really fast, especially with a giant outboard motor on the back. But it has no steering wheel so we lie flat on our stomachs on the bow and lean left or right to steer, at about 70 MPH. And there's no throttle we can reach, so we put a glass of gasoline in the tank and the motor runs out before we hit the opposite shore. Except my friend, being helpful, puts in a cup of gas without telling me, and I do too. The motor stops 100 feet in front of a brick wall. You can't have fun like that these days. Probably illegal.
Educated at one of America's top prep schools. Sport coat, tie, penny loafers. Addressed by my last name. Receive a rigorously superb 18th century classical education. Unfortunately, it's the 20th century at the time. Voted most likely to secede.
Living on Waquoit Bay in East Falmouth, on Massachusetts' Cape Cod. My buddies and I take our sneakers and socks off, stuff the socks in the sneakers, tie the laces around our necks, roll our jeans up to our calves, then take off on water skis directly from the beach while standing up, fully dressed, behind a power boat with a 75 horsepower Mercury engine on the back - a monster in those days. With that much torque we'd be up and planing instantly, skiing off to each side, out of the boat's wake, being towed just fast enough to keep us up and slow enough to minimize spray. When we got to the other side of the bay, we sweep wide onto the beach, jump out of our skis onto the sand at the last moment, dry our feet off in the sun, put our socks and sneakers back on, and head off. It was a lot faster than thumbing a ride.
While participating in a sailboat race in my Beetle Cat on Waquoit Bay in E. Falmouth, Massachusetts, an electrical storm threatens. The race master in the power boat yells through his megaphone that the race is off; that we are to head into Barnard Cove on Washburn Island immediately and get off the beach. I tack, head for the beach, sail onto the sand, jump out with some line, tie the boat to a tree, get about 20 feet up the shore to the edge of the woods, turn around and hear a crack like a gunshot as the boat lights up with a shockingly bright bluish flash that covers the entire deck. All the hairs on my body stand up like a scene from Young Frankenstein. Scares the living daylights out of me. A few seconds later and I would have been a crispy critter. Amazingly, there is zero damage to the boat - not even a mark that it had been hit. If only Nikola Tesla had been there to educate me! Of course, I had no idea who he was at that age. All mention of Tesla, one of the greatest minds of all time, had been carefully omitted from both public and private school, for which my parents had paid a small fortune in tuition. I actually thought Edison had given us AC power. I didn't know that Edison had actually electrocuted live animals in public displays, including an elephant, to turn the public against AC. Clearly, my education had been lacking.
Continuing with our aquatic theme, in 1963 the Hyannis Yacht Club was home for the Southern Massachusetts Yacht Racing Association (SMYRA) sailboat regatta. Boats were towed from all over Cape Cod to Falmouth for the big day. The day became stormy and the Coast Guard advised against sailing. But the proud parents running the show didn't want to postpone, so the race was on. I was skippering my trusty Beetle Cat with a single crew, my buddy Jimmy. We sailed out into Falmouth sound and the wind picked up so high we couldn't see the boats in front of us or behind us. Couldn't see the buoys, couldn't see the committee boat. We were surrounded by cresting mountains of churning water. This was no longer a race, this was a survival contest to see who could stay upright. Too bad I hadn't named the boat The Darwin. We hauled the sail down until it was just a small triangle and still we were whipping along, with Jimmy bailing for dear life. I rubbed all the skin off my palms just hanging on to the main sheet. Waves so high we would sail up the front wall of a wave, then slide backwards right down the front of the same wave. We were blown over the finish line 3rd in a heat of 23 entrants, still alive and floating. Over 15 boats had capsized and needed to be rescued. Fortunately, no one died. Just a few injuries, like getting slammed in the head by a boom, nearly strangled by lines, things like that. Of course, we were a little tougher back in those days since smartphones hadn't been invented yet. Naturally there were no parental lawsuits because the American Bar Association wasn't running America yet. When I told my dad, he grunted, said "good job," and returned to his newspaper. As for the geniuses managing the race, I have no doubt they went on to seek higher office.
I ace the SAT's. Off to pre-med at Boston University to study physics, calculus, organic chemistry with a minor in co-ed anatomy.
Vietnam is over. They say we won, but GI's can't take their guns home any more. Lyndon 'Hit Man' Johnson is out, Richard 'Tricky Dick' Nixon is in. I hear the immortal James Jamerson's bass line on Bernadette and the universe stands still. I buy a beat-up Fender Precision bass (painted lime green) for $75 at a pawn shop in Harvard Square, teach myself how to play and hit the road. Bye, bye, Marcus Welby.
Gigging in a blue-eyed soul band covering James Brown, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Bobby Womack. Popping, snapping, digging life on the bottom. Feet, don't fail me now! Parents disown me. A real-life version of "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?"
Meet a beautiful black woman from Chicago. A singer, songwriter and guitarist. Her father was a bomber pilot in the Tuskeegee Airmen. Together we hit the road opening for major rock acts like Chicago, the Byrds and the Bee Gees in venues seating thousands. In between we gig at small town joints where bikers do wheelies on the dance floor and the walls are decorated in aluminum foil. I'm a long way from suburbia now. An education like this cannot be priced.
Back in Boston, a society bandleader now. Perform at over 5,000 weddings, mitvahs, corporate events. Four social functions each weekend at 5 star hotels, booked years ahead, each with a 50% deposit. Talk about job security. Silver hits $50 an ounce. Cost of living dirt cheap with minimal small business regulations. Lots of dangerous free time on my hands. It's almost like living in a free country.
I read The Market For Liberty, Atlas Shrugged, The Anti-Federalist Papers, every Supreme Court decision, many hundreds of rare books on suppressed history, the entire 9,600 pages of the Internal Revenue Code, The Wizard Of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Dorothy's slippers were actually silver. The yellow bricks? They were gold. The abbreviation for gold is "Oz". The scarecrow is the public. Now I understand.
I unplug cable TV. Now there's only one sewer line in the house, and it goes out. I discover my personal exit to The Truman Show. Gosh, there's a whole other world out here, and what interesting people!
I learn what really happened at Versailles, Jekyll Island, the Bonuseers March, Pearl Harbor, Dealey Plaza, The Gulf of Tonkin, Waco, OKC, Ruby Ridge... We're not in Kansas anymore.
I lecture nationwide on constitutional issues and guest on countless talk radio shows. One stop takes me to Connecticut which calls itself The Constitution State. Problem is, just about no one living there has ever read the Constitution. Kids don't read it in school. Their teachers never read it either. As Joe Sobran once remarked, the Constitution no longer poses any serious threat to our present form of government.
Married in a common law ceremony and blessed with three wonderful children. Home school them until they start schooling me.
Trading Forex. Get good at it, develop trading courses, teach hundreds of students how to generate fresh new money out of thin air, an exercise usually left to the banking cartel.
Develop automated trading software to mine profits from currencies as an alternative to employment and other risky speculations. Home school the kids between naps. We read The Market For Liberty, Atlas Shrugged, The Anti-Federalist Papers...
Consulting now. Helping new friends accomplish what I've been helping old friends do for many years: rebuild portfolios damaged by market crashes while in the loving hands of financial advisors. Hedge dollar destruction. Retire young and healthy by using cutting-edge wellness technology not covered by Obamacare. Enjoying life helping others which, as I teach my children, is the only reason we're all here in the first place.
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