The 1 Percent

I sit writing the day before new years. Bitter End Yacht club. Virgin Gorda. The British Virgin Islands. Playground of the rich and beautiful. We get to park our little Orion for next to nothing and wander in and mingle. Truly phenomenal displays of wealth. The white plastic gleams. The stainless is always shiny. The toys come out. The inflatable slide from the top deck. 3 jet ski’s on the back. Yacht pulling powerboat, pulling dinghy. Money pouring down the drains and away. Inconsequential it seems.

Our neighbors

And why do I rant. There is a part of me that admires people that have done well in their lives, taken the money to do extravagant things with their families. Introduce their children to new countries. What is money for really anyways?

But here, today, something feels different about the extreme decadence and the seeming ignorance of anyone else around. Drive that dinghy full speed through the harbor. Don’t give a thought to the boats bouncing around in your wake. Let the nice man in the clean white shirt bring you your orange juice. Life is as it should be. There are masters, there are servants. The world has always been this way. Some own the plantations, and then there are slaves to do the ahem, work. In so very many cases there is no connection between the two. The rulers rule, the laborers sweat. Why question your place in the grand scheme when it’s on top. Off to the vacation where the water is blue, the toys many. Rub elbows with your people. Life is beautiful.

Today I’m surrounded by the 1 percent. I’m not impressed.  For the 1st time in my life I am truly scared and sickened by our government and the people that are about to start running it. To me it’s always seemed relatively benign. I haven’t felt threatened. Me, personally, my world. White guy doing ok. And it seemed like things were essentially beyond my control anyways. Head down in the sand. My world was fine. Me, mine, me. No need for real worry. For Me.

I don’t feel that way today. At a deep down level, I feel like we are heading into a dark and frightening place. Maybe it’s gotten to the point where me and mine feel threatened. Is it the possibility of economic collapse? Or of my kids having to fight in a war because of an idiot pushing a button? My money, my security, my family. Too damn close to home. Me has expanded to my country. Took me long enough. And as I look inside at my barometer and take a reading my sense is that I am not alone. I feel a revolution coming on.

The hood…

3 thoughts on “The 1 Percent

  1. you got it Malcolm.the uneasy feeling in the stomach and mind of how fucked up things really are and how worse they can get..all you can do is continue to be kind, loving and giving…


  2. Ahoy there Malcolm and Elia,
    Just finished reading most of your blogging. WOW. Congrats to you for actually living your dreams and facing your fears. I love how you are facing the bigger questions of life and what to do with it ! I too am scared of the Trump Regime. People are up in arms and are watching Republicans movements like a hawk. They just stopped them from scratching the Federal Ethics committee and Trump tried to take credit for it. Hypocracy.
    Anyway it just snowed 14 inches last 24 and it is 6 degrees outside. We had a nice mens group with 5 of us. Malcolm was missed and we sent blessings. I have started Ski season and loving it.
    Anita and I had another heart warming Xmas with her son and I sent a big Djembe to Maui for my son Haden. He is in a band now. David, Margie and I are still delighting bigger gatherings with Kirtan. Laura joined us NY eve and paid me and Margie for one of her gigs in Denver. Finally sensing how to stay in the pocket when singing. Simplicity is best.Margie is going to Kaui to be with Eric again. Again I do not know how I am getting through Winter Financially, teaching more though. Mother Universe always full of surprises. Keep up those photos of people and animals, not just boats.
    Love to you both. Makaanster


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s