Thank Heavens, the overwhelming likelihood is that I will never be forced to kill anyone. There is no draft on the horizon and even if there were I’m not the type they come-a-callin’ for. Maybe in self defense there could be some kind of situation wherein I kill a man. But in actuality I am terribly weak; I have the body of a twelve year-old girl; and the self-control of a twelve year-old boy. The only way that would ever happen would be if I, or someone very near to me- not just figuratively “close” but physically “near”- were attacked by an idiot whose gun somehow ended up in my hands, he kept on coming at me or us, and I accidentally shoot him in a vital organ instead of the extremity I was almost surely aiming for. That’s the only real scenario that I could see leading to me getting blood on my hands.
Unless of course, I go bonkers.
If I do go bonkers (that’s the technical term, I think) it will be because of people like Brian:
Brian Zacharias, 23, a senior economics major at the University of Virginia, was very aware of how he was doing and wanted others to know it. That’s why he opted for Covestor, which launched last summer. His portfolio is up 40 percent since he joined.”I like to let other people know how well I’m doing and put that information out to the public,” he said. “I turned out to be a good trader, and I want people to know about it.”
I love the thinking at play here. Sure making money is nice and it gives me a sense of entitlement and a feeling of self-worth, but damn if it compares to the high I get when I rub my winnings in your face, you stupid, poor asshole! Dolla Dolla Bills Ya’ll!
Oh well. C’est la vie. I’ll just pop another paxil and be on my way
(h/t Chotiner)
