Thread: Security

Pretty much describes the many boneheads out there, blindly serving the corporate model.

"Security"By Hunter Thompson, 1955
Security . . . what does this word mean in relation to life as we know it today? For the most part, it means safety and freedom from worry. It is said to be the end that all men strive for; but is security a Utopian goal or is it another word for rut?
Let us visualize the secure man; and by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life. In general, he is a man who has pushed ambition and initiative aside and settled down, so to speak, in a boring, but safe and comfortable rut for the rest of their life. His future is but an extension of his present, and he accepts it as such with a complacent shrug of his shoulders. His ideas and ideals are those of society in general and he is accepted as a respectable, but average and prosaic man. But is he a man? Has he any self-respect or pride in himself? How could he when he has risked nothing and gained nothing? What does he think when he sees his youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almighty dollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tragedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the alter of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of freedom on the alter of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is instead of living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he had watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better. What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?
Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed, Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must be laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait of death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a tread-mill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.
As an afterthought, it seems hardly proper to write of life without once mentioning happiness; so we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?

https://steemit.com/steem/@doc-gonzo...-thompson-1955

^ Edit the text colour next time please. It helps.

Security"By Hunter Thompson, 1955
Security . . . what does this word mean in relation to life as we know it today? For the most part, it means safety and freedom from worry. It is said to be the end that all men strive for; but is security a Utopian goal or is it another word for rut?
Let us visualize the secure man; and by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life. In general, he is a man who has pushed ambition and initiative aside and settled down, so to speak, in a boring, but safe and comfortable rut for the rest of their life. His future is but an extension of his present, and he accepts it as such with a complacent shrug of his shoulders. His ideas and ideals are those of society in general and he is accepted as a respectable, but average and prosaic man. But is he a man? Has he any self-respect or pride in himself? How could he when he has risked nothing and gained nothing? What does he think when he sees his youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almighty dollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tragedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the alter of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of freedom on the alter of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is instead of living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he had watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better. What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?
Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed, Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must be laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait of death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a tread-mill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.
As an afterthought, it seems hardly proper to write of life without once mentioning happiness; so we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?

“Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.”

― Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman

No surprise that Mr. Earl worships at the shrine of the drug-addled alcoholic.

I think that in 1955, Hunter would have been pre-drug and alcohol addled.

Hunter Stockton Thompson (July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005)

Perhaps just starting to get into it. Some damage only.

Originally Posted by Latindancer

I think that in 1955, Hunter would have been pre-drug and alcohol addled.

Hunter Stockton Thompson (July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005)

Perhaps just starting to get into it. Some damage only.

Perhaps you should think again.

https://casapalmera.com/blog/the-his...gs-in-america/

Yeah yeah yeah. But he was only 18 in 1955, so although he may have smoked a bit of pot and had a few drinks, he would not have been old enough to be actually pickled or addled.

His mysterious suicide with his family nearby not much disturbed by a shotgun (mistaken for a typewriter?) was a relief for many...

Originally Posted by Latindancer

Yeah yeah yeah. But he was only 18 in 1955, so although he may have smoked a bit of pot and had a few drinks, he would not have been old enough to be actually pickled or addled.

I can only assume that you've led a very sheltered life if you think people aren't doing drugs or alcohol before the age of 18.

By 1956 Thompson was given the choice of jail or the military.

Inn Security , hide in the pub

Originally Posted by harrybarracuda

I can only assume that you've led a very sheltered life if you think people aren't doing drugs or alcohol before the age of 18.

By 1956 Thompson was given the choice of jail or the military.

Ahhh....the good old days of conscription.

Originally Posted by HuangLao

Ahhh....the good old days of conscription.

Given the choice, which would you pick Jeff?