Schuylkill Haven, PA Today

It turns out visiting the Ohio Valley isn't the sine qua non of morning bar entertainment. Much closer to home one can enjoy depraved yet enlightening conversation. This is a happy circumstance as the Iran War has put a dent in my driving habits. And yet.

A train under the auspices of the Reading, Blue Mountain & Northern railway frequently runs from Reading to Jim Thorpe. It stops here in Schuylkill Haven. It is said to be a pleasant leaf ride, particularly popular with seniors. Or middle aged train enthusiasts. We're going to do this in October or November. Been thinking about it for decades and talking about it for years.

Happily, they run special trains. The infamous robber baron Jay Gould is said to have gifted his daughter a rather regal parlor car. The 'Black Diamond' is featured below. Arch speculator and railroad stock jobber, this Scot was public enemy number one. And he did not give a flying fuck. Literally zero fucks to give.

It costs a pretty penny, this Jay Gould livery train. And yet. Why not ride in a Private Varnish once held by the man who may have offered America one of the most incisive bon mots in its storied history? "I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half." Fun! And as true today as it was then. The "working class" like the meek, will inherit nothing. And be grateful for it and not just on Sundays.

According to AI: Jay Gould died a wealthy, unmourned man at age 56 on December 2, 1892, after contracting tuberculosis. He left an estimated $77 million fortune split into trusts for his six children, with zero gifts to public charity, leading to scathing public obituaries and the rapid unraveling of his corporate empire by the next generation.

Why do people do what they do? It's simple. They do what they do because they can get away with it. There's your explanation for the mysteries of human behavior.

So, you show up in a town, having dispensed with the usual Tuesday duties (my Sunday) and it turns out that all the fancy places only open up come the weekend. What, pray tell, does one do under such duress? Well, you find the local dive. The one place that is open at 10 AM.

There you meet John. And he tells many tales. Among them the one about being 13 years old and running away from his father and settling in the The Great Swamp of New York State. I didn't know there were swamps that far north, but that's what they call it. I looked it up on the Internet, just to be sure.

There he met 'the greatest prick this side of hell'. That one will last. The prick was 60 years old at the time, back in the late 1960's. This man had his son drown kittens, one by one in a local lake. The son's crime was bringing home a pregnant stray cat. Double your pleasure.

There were some other happier stories told before noon. And the $2 Yuengling drafts were a flowin'. And so, if you tip Michelle a buck each time, your fourth drink, which you didn't need, turns out to be free. Also, smoking is not only encouraged, it is virtually mandatory.

No vaping, tho. As several signs attest. The shitbirds mix in THC, which is technically illegal, but happens anyway. Evidently, especially the youngins, misbehave on this derivation of fucking vapes. Fuck vapes.

See, a psychoactive substance is good and uncontroversial. By contrast, the preferred relaxation agent of Native Americans and European aristocrats of yore alike, that civilised means to an end is vilified. Why is everything obvious always upside down in this retarded declining empire?

Here, again, liberals have a hand in it. They're control freaks who represent a secular priethood. This priesthood comes under various guises. Bureaucrats of all stripes, most of whom are harmless, as individuals that is. The non-profit sphere, you know, the do-gooders. Again, mostly harmless and possibly helpful, sometimes.

Where it gets stickier, you have the legal profession. It's designed to defend the rich against everyone else, as a rule. Yes, occasionally, things go the right way. But in a systerm where you can buy all the justice you like, and where the poor get some overworked undermotivated shmuck, it amounts to a farce.

The psychiatrists have an ass-bruising coming to them, but I have to brush up on my Thomas Szasz first. And that'll take a while. What do all of these groops achieve, when acting in concert? They're there, unelected and undisclosed, to improve you by way of thinly veiled coercion and Puritanism under the veneer of moral relativism. And they suck at their jobs and many, many ordinary people have had an ass-full of their 'help'. But then, you'd have to ask them their opinion, which no one with any clout ever does.

This 70 year old invited me over to his house, having assured me by way of showing bites on his forearm, that his prized pit bull was 'out of control'. I decided to save that particular adventure for a future Tuesday. Discernment is important!

He told other stories too. I mostly just listened. Started smoking at 8. Drinking at 13. Fixed cars for a living. His wife is supportive. She doesn't drink or smoke. And lets him go. But he glared at me for five seconds after saying: 'don't get married'. We had a couple of those extended stares, where emphasis is put non-verbally on a pointed spoken thing. We'll leave those aside.

Just a no bullshit codger who disclaimed that Jesus doesn't belong here. His brother does. And he wasn't referring to the other John. I thought this was more Mormon ideology, but he was going more for the duality of man. Many more philosophers hang out in bars than Phil PhD candidates might think, if they do think of something other than abstruse abstractions.

After he left, I transitioned to water and took a walk to the library (scored a nice deluxe copy of Anna Karenina – retails for for 50 cents, but not much else) and got a slice of pizza to go at Angela's. It was plenty safe to drive home and cook Mexican tapas for my Mom and Dad. None of these are feats to speak of. It is merely to say, save your concern for those in need of it.

What's the point of this? The point is there is no point. So, you enjoy life and people and scribble down the remnants. To quote Rudiger and Brad Goodman of The Simpsons: 'I do what I feel like'. And it's pretty terrific.

Who says being single and living with your parents is evidence of loserdom? Done correctly, it is a great boon. And so I can say a hearty ha ha ha to those who would pity me. Or show their 'concern' through state violence, psychological coercion and three flavors of drugs, enforced by two beefcakes toting syringes. Several people in my life did that to me. Well, fuck 'em.

And another thing! Enjoy having a boss. Or getting up for work every Monday morning, so you can do your 'duty'. It's all rather the opposite, I do declare. And a big joke, to boot.

To repeat it...

Gee, I sure hope I didn't offend anyone by using the rong vocabulary werds.