I Don't Want a Mega Yacht

Perhaps the reason began with my great grandparents crossing the ocean back around the turn of the last century.  And so I sometimes call myself  "4th Generation Ellis Island Peasant Stock", offspring of workers who fed the moguls of them ole days.  And, I have not risen above the herd, financially anywho-- which would probably garner a lot more respect from the masses.

As the years have passed I continue to see those old money making professions of lawyer and banker as stale stiff lifeless yucks, although I did recently accidentally walk through a crowd of apparently aggressive male investment bankers.  I tell ya, there's nothing like that fly on the wall feeling of buzzing through a corral packed with dominant male bulls horns bashing and maiming while I, the fly zigs and zags the self preservation flight of the hour.

Then comes the bleach bottle motif (super clean for a super craft), or a fat wallet doesn't always mean an artistic eye.  And maybe the box skyscraper hath jumped a few decades into the future (today) and taken up residence on the turquoise briny.

August does however remain a glorious month on the North Atlantic.

Peaceful cattle grazing in a field.


Fair Winds
Captain Bill


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