Congrats! You Really Volunteered To Be A Slave?

 Some of you amaze me with your industriousness! Work, work, work, always on the go, busy, busy, run, run. It takes a lot to have that big house, the fancy cars, a boat, jet skis, a zillion gadgets. Too bad you never get to use any of that. I suppose your heirs will enjoy it, when you drop dead from overwork at forty or fifty. I imagine getting to sleep occasionally in a big house, or to sit in traffic, on those leather seats is pretty nice. I’ll bet your family enjoys all that stuff when you aren’t around, right? That must make you pretty happy, doesn’t it?

Or maybe not? Look, if you’d stop your rat race a moment, you might see how barren and empty your life really is. If you died tomorrow, your family wouldn’t even be sure what your name is, to put on the fancy tombstone, would they? Oh sure, you’ll argue and tell me I’m crazy to suggest this. It’s important to you to be a big shot, to make it to the top. Really? Who are you planning to spend your success with, your new mistress, who’ll likely spend every dime you made, and push you under a bus? Good luck with that.

Look, sit down a minute and listen to me. No one gives a crap what car you drive, or how big your house is. The people that matter would like to know who the stranger who drops by occasional really is! They don’t care how much stuff you give them, you’re only ruining your kids, and turning them into entitled losers. They’ll squander all your money in a tenth the time it took you to earn it eventually anyway. But you aren’t just killing your body, you’re killing your soul with this nonsense!

There will come a day, as surely as the rising of the sun, when you wake up, and see the emptiness of your life. That’s the day you’ll see the true extent of your foolishness. Likely it will come too late, and you’ll go to the grave, a bitter, empty husk. That’s what you desire? If a bunch of swarthy pirates came, and took you, putting you in chains, you’d be desperate to escape. You’ve put the chains on yourself. Why? And why don’t you do something about that. Before it’s too late. Still think I’m crazy?

Jack