Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It’s what everything else isn’t.
Theodore Roethke
Poet
FLYING IS NOT FAITH BASED
The debate regarding the kind of capitalism might best serve our world seems to be at the center of many controversies. Never was a comedy about what has happened to the world’s economy been more worthy of laughter and scorn. The ascendant totalitarian communist bankers of China are not an institution worthy of the world’s trust. The European Union’s leaders have been running a failed experiment. And then there are the masters of the universe in the United States and their brothers from the City of London, and I am sure you might know that the damage they have wrought to this day has gone unpunished. Somewhere in this quagmire of hubris is blind confidence that results in human folly. The discovery of the comedy is an intuitive journey.
HOT SPRING HONEYMOON
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a resort that specialized in honeymoons,”
Keefe finished his beer, “We have a quality control program in place. Why we are popular destination. Hell, I spent a whole week’s labor eliminating squeaky mattresses; figuring a way to stop headboards from slapping against a wall.”
“I’d imagine there is a real craft to hospitality services,” Jace said.
“We put in dimmer switches for the lights so that a seduction and consummation might go extra slick. There’s deluxe soundproofing and double glazed windows, what we’re trying to do here is make a path to romantic feelings.”
“I like that, go all in, dedication to your craft.”
