In Which George is Doomed to Insignificance

George has been talking somewhat seriously about killing himself, and I have been thinking somewhat seriously about letting him have at it.

Okay, maybe not. But good lord is he a drag.

George has it pretty good, by most standards. He has a respectable profession. He makes a middling developer salary. Maybe he’ll have a family some day.

But I’m doomed to insignificance! he says. At the end of the day, my legacy to the world will be a vague contribution to digital money-laundering. And nothing I do can’t easily be outsourced to cheap overseas labor.

Unfortunately fair points. I used to think that insecurity was reserved for young people. After a certain age, you kind of stop giving a shit what the world thinks, right?

I believed this, but then, geez, we sure are getting old. And then there’s Bill Gross in Bloomberg Markets, talking about his neurotic quest for love. I just wanted to run money and be famous, he says. I will go to the extreme to be special.

Bill Gross is a 71-year-old billionaire who sounds like a teenage girl with daddy issues. Did his parents not show him enough attention as a child?

Maybe we never outgrow it. We spend our lives running from it, thinking that if we climb enough ladders and chase enough titles it’ll go away. But that never happens, because you can’t run away from something generated within.
So welcome to the club, George.

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