So I'm sitting outside my local coffee house enjoying the mornings first infusion of liquid love. I'm seventy five percent coffee the rest is scars and titanium. In our city it's still legal for the old gravelly voiced men to sit outside and reminisce about the good ole days and have a smoke. Damn it it stinks, makes me stink but it smells, smells like freedom. That the man wearing the Budweiser baseball cap and the chromed aviators in this city still has the choice to do what gives him pleasure. Isn't that written somewhere, the pursuit of happiness.
So the current elements making inroads politically and socially are saying that its their right to tell us what makes us happy. The audacity. The sheer balls of a politician or pundit to pressure me into doing what's good for me. I find it quite cowardly to constantly live within the rules or to stay safe. The greatest inventions of our time took risk, deadly risk. In the late 19th and early 20th century bridge builders would calculate in how many men would die building a particular structure. The question is, were any of those men who gave up their lives for a road forced to do it?
Oh but if you don't have insurance then your medical burdens fall on the tax payer blah blah blah. Let me be free. With freedom there are consequences. Men will be cautious if they know mommy Sam isn't going to bail them out for their indiscretions. However, freedom pays a man handsomely for taking risk that benefit many. In Realism a man is allowed to choose as long as he understand he will be held accountable for that choice. Never in Realism will the choice be legislated from him.
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