This is why so many rich kids become obsessed with unusually hard hobbies (HYROX, Ironmans, ultramarathons, survival expeditions, extreme sports, Everest, etc.)
They’re not necessarily masochists. They need a result where observers, and more importantly themselves, can’t immediately say “yh but your dad…”
Money contaminates most conventional achievement because it can buy you the introductions, runway, education, safety net, first customers and endless second chances. Physical suffering is different. Your dad can hire the trainer, buy the bike and fly you business class to the race, but he still can’t run the last 30km of an ultra for you.
And then you get this funny achievement inflation. Once normal difficulty becomes accessible, you need increasingly absurd difficulty to produce the same clean proof of competence:
A 10k stops feeling exceptional → marathon → Ironman → 100km ultra → Marathon des Sables / UTMB → whatever is sufficiently painful and scarce to still mean something.
Same for mountains: Everest with oxygen → without oxygen → harder mountain → unsupported → faster, etc.
It’s especially funny because their normal life has usually been optimised to remove exactly the things they then seek recreationally: cold, danger, physical exhaustion, uncertainty, getting lost, carrying your own stuff, sleeping badly, not knowing whether you’ll make it. Generations of family wealth go into eliminating friction, then the descendants spend their weekends putting it back in.
And of course an entire luxury industry now exists to package the hardship nicely. Black Tomato sells a “Get Lost” experience starting around £20k per person where they privately transfer you somewhere remote, give you equipment and training, then make you navigate back to civilisation while an expedition team invisibly tracks you as a safety net.
Basically the final stage of wealth is paying a lot of money to recreate problems your grandparents spent their lives making sure you’d never have.
I mentioned that my garage door was making a sound.
An American immediately said, "I got a guy."
He did not ask what the sound was. He did not ask what kind of door. He produced a guy on the basis of the word garage.
I asked who the guy was.
He said, "Just a guy."
He did not have a company name. He had a first name and a phone number in his phone saved as "Mike Garage."
That is the contact name. Mike Garage. As though Garage is his surname. As though there is a family.
I asked how he found this guy.
"My brother-in-law used him."
I asked if the brother-in-law was satisfied.
He thought about it. Then he said, "He's still standing."
The house is still standing. That is the entire review.
Inside I said: THEY DO NOT KEEP RECORDS. THEY KEEP LOYALTIES.
I called Mike Garage. He answered from inside a vehicle. There was wind. He said he could come Tuesday between eleven and four.
Between eleven and four. A window of five hours. In my country this would be a scandal. Here it is generous. He gave me a window at all. Some guys do not give you a window. Some guys say "Tuesday" and that is the whole appointment.
He came at 1:40.
He fixed it in twenty minutes. He charged me less than I expected and he did not take a card, only cash or an app I had never heard of.
Before leaving he looked at my water heater, which I had not mentioned, and said, "That's gonna go."
I asked when.
"Couple years."
I asked what I should do.
He said, "I'll give you a guy."
He gave me a guy. Mike Garage has a guy. The guy has a guy. There is a network beneath this country made entirely of men named after their function, and none of them advertise, and all of them are busy.
Inside I said: THERE IS A SECOND NATION HERE. IT HAS NO SIGNS. IT IS ENTERED ONLY BY INTRODUCTION.
I have been given four guys since.
I have a guy for trees.
I did not know I needed a guy for trees.
I have trees now, apparently. They are my responsibility. A man named Rick told me so and then left.
Timon and Pumbaa are TLK's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Their function in the story is to turn Simba (Hamlet) into an effeminate wastrel and lead him into spiritual death (or in the case of the source material, physical death).
Simba doesn't self-actualize until he realizes that his purpose is to embody the Father/Warrior-King archetype, and he abandons the duo's philosophy of comfort and degeneration, embracing struggle and hardship for the sake of others.
"Hakuna Matata" isn't the key to happiness, but the chains by which Simba is enslaved to perpetual childhood. It's a blindfold that prevents Simba from confronting and processing the death of his father, which prevents him from ever becoming a ma-... lion.
Holding up Timon and Pumbaa as positive role-models is about the most egregious sin against media literacy you can commit.
When a boy reaches the age of maybe around ten, he begins to learn that the world owes him nothing, and that this is not a curse but a starting line.
Around puberty, he discovers that the opinions of others are weather, not law, and that a man who steers by the approval of strangers will never arrive anywhere worth going.
When he reaches adulthood, he understands that he is on his own, and he accepts this gladly, because a man who is on his own is a man who is free to build. If his relationships fail, he examines what he can do better, not because he is always to blame, but because his own conduct is the only thing he commands.
A man learns that he is, at his core, an instrument of duty. He provides not because he is forced to, not to earn love, but because providing is what he was born to do, and duty is not a burden placed on a man but the shape of the man himself.
And all the while, he wastes no breath on what he is called or accused of, because a man on his mission has no time to audit the opinions of people who are not walking beside him.
@kushika_twt The firey pits of hell is a metaphor for the state of being that consumes you when you sin. I can reflect on my life, when I was consumed from lust, there was a moment I was filled with self hatred and literally said "wow, I'm in hell."
I love that we’re the new Rome. Peace with Persia in the afternoon and a gladiator fight in the evening, all on the Emperor’s birthday. Another 1,000 years.
It’s not an antisemitic conspiracy theory when a foreign lobby openly brags that they bought two congressional seats with candidates who will be loyal to Israel.
I strongly recommend all my subscribers have sex in nature. Find a little cove in a hiking trail. Take a detour into the woods. The trees are your wingmen.
Where there's a will there's always a way. Don't be gay and be afraid of “getting caught”. Caught by whom? A squirrel? A retired couple with trekking poles? Nobody cares. The sex-avoiders are far more afraid of the sex-havers. Situate yourself with sightlines. You should be able to see anyone well before they see you. This is basic intimacy tactical awareness.
Rocks and trees are both God's curtains and infrastructure for her to brace against. Don't worry if she's into it, she is.