They can’t stop the signal, Mal.

“They can’t stop the signal, Mal. They can never stop the signal.” – Serenity

“The chair is against the wall.  The chair is against the wall.  John has a long mustache.  John has a long mustache.  It’s twelve o’clock, American.  Another day closer to victory, and for all of you out there on or behind the line, this is your song.”

Wednesday is the day when I write about economics.  Why Wednesday?  Because it’s my blog.

I’m going to start with something that might seem unrelated.  Hang on, this will make sense in a bit.  I’m a trained professional, you’re in good hands.  And my hands?  They smell of elderberries.  But not hamsters.  I’m not into that.

On Monday, I was experiencing the highest traffic this august blog has ever gotten.  People were coming here so fast I was worried that I wouldn’t have enough coffee cups and hand-tatted doilies.  More people than live in Modern Mayberry were coming here every hour or so.

Thousands of people!  Good Heavens!

In the middle of this, an extreme social faux pas.  It was like my cat had impregnated an English princess.

Again.

My little missive discussing exactly what I thought of Mr. Biden’s idea that his F-15’s and nuclear weapons beat up on our modern sporting lawyers and BUFFs like me went dark.  Gone.  Epstein didn’t kill himself, and neither did my blog.

If you were surprised Epstein killed himself, imagine how surprised he was.

Boom.  Gone.  For hours, the entire blog went was as dead as Hillary’s woo-hoo has been since, oh, wait, there’s a limit on Epstein jokes.

To be clear:  I don’t host this website on a computer built with chicken wire and parts from a 1996 Packard-Bell© tower I found in the recycling bin and some toner cartridges from a 2003 Hewlett-Packard™ laser printer and some used chest-hair grease.

Nope, I save that stuff for the heart-lung machine at the local hospital.  This website is hosted professionally.  I had a thought that it might get popular, so the hosting I got was the “So You Think You Might Be Drudge® Someday Sucker” package that guaranteed I’d be covered unless Bernie Sanders finally admitted he liked being a multi-millionaire.

The sum total of Internet bandwidth required to host this blog is tiny.  You can stuff the entire blog – every word and every image ever – into 30 megabytes.  Without compression.  Skip the bikini posts, and you’d be under 20 megs.

But why would you skip the bikinis?  No.  I didn’t skip the bikinis.  I used that to make them relevant for this post.  See?  John I. Wilder.  Super genius.

Why don’t Leftists wear bikinis to the beach?  I mean, I thought they had nothing to hide.

I digress. The post in question (Read it here) that was so popular had one image.  One.  That image is 59.5 kilobytes.  Plus 1400 and some odd words.  Call it 100 kB.  I can’t even get decent resolution on one bikini top with that.  C’mon.  You want a decent resolution, right?

There is no way that the blog was stressing the server.  There had been 25 days since the last software update.  Everything was nice and stable for tens of thousands of views over the weekend.

But then, when it was really getting going, as the view streamed upward like Joe Biden after a transfusion of young human blood?

The entire blog was as gone as George Floyd’s criminal record.

George Floyd’s real record at boxing is 4-3.  Sad we have to count his girlfriends.

When a visitor would come here, they got a message telling them that they should go somewhere else.  Maybe a site that would give them yoga lessons.  Or teach them how to hand-tat doilies.

As soon as I knew about it, I got to work.  I had to go back to an earlier version of the software, and then rebuild twice to get the links to come back.  It was about as dramatic as when Matthew Broderick told the computer not to start a nuclear war.  I had several coffees in the middle, but the school principal decided not to suspend me.

Maybe it was just a sheer coincidence that the time when I wrote my most popular post ever, days after it was increasing in popularity exponentially that it disappeared.

Sure.  That could happen.  And Epstein killed himself.

It had been 1200 days, and only one outage, and that was a technical thingy on a not at all exciting weekend.  I found out on Saturday morning and had it fixed in 20 minutes.

You do the math.  Maybe it was a sign?

Just any old sign.  This was actually the movie that led to The Mrs. and I being married.  Who knew Steve Martin saved Western Civilization?

Okay, this is the part where we do the right turn and end up in Albuquerque.  Hang with me.  There are airbags if you start feeling queasy.  Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not airbags.  There are airbags if you hit someone else with your car while you’re driving it.

That’s what airbags are.

I mean, I don’t think airbags help anyone if you throw your car at them.  But if someone makes you so mad you throw your car at them?  They had it coming.

So, if you get queasy I can’t help you.  And if you can throw your car at someone, I’m hiring.

Regardless, I promise it all will make sense in the end.

I’ve written quite a bit about the future.  The majority of my career is in the past, until I become the undisputed Leader of Earth.  I imagine that job will require at least some work after 5p.m.  Probably not on weekends, though.

I’ll have people for that.

Although I like to mentally live in that world, sadly, I have to confront reality.  Many of the posts I’ve written have talked about the virtuous aspects of economics.  Work hard.  Be honest.  Give more than you’re asked for.  Don’t cheat people.

Bet he never saw that coming.

Those are great pieces of advice, especially when you’re working in a place that’s built on merit.  In reality, though, if you’re working in a family business, you’ll never rise farther than the owner’s worst son.  Unless you marry the boss’s daughter.

Hey, it worked for Jared Kushner, right?

Regardless, there’s at least one aspect in the hundreds of posts I’ve been allowed to transmit into the ether that I’ve neglected mentioning until now:

If you work in a company that considers you a political heretic, your lifespan is limited.

I know that a common phrase on the Right is, “Get woke, go broke,” but that doesn’t seem to be the case.  Once you reach a certain size, there appears to be no limit to the number of people that the company can hire that do nothing to serve a customer.  There are legions of leeches that will just take complaints.  There are platoons of parasites that just exist to make sure rules (that don’t help anyone) are enforced.

This won’t change the value of the corporation.  At least not for years and years.

Look at Coca-Cola®.  They actively trained employees in active hatred of a specific race, but, hey, look at the stock prices!  They keep going up.

Look at Gillette™:

In 2019, when they actively tried to shame their target customers, men people who shave, their stock price was about $91.  In 2021, it’s now up to $135.

To be clear, I haven’t bought a single Gillette® product since 2019, and as few Procter and Gamble© (Gillette’s© parent company) products as I can.

Gillette™ got woke.  They’re not broke.  And neither is Coke©.

(I’ll stop before this becomes a Dr. Seuss post about Jeff the Bezos who tried to use our product searches to seize us.)

Whatchutalkinaboutwillis?

Why isn’t Procter and Gamble™ broke?  They make products that I had no idea that I was buying to support Woke until I looked them up while I was writing this post tonight.

Tide™.

Old Spice©.

Cascade®.

Admittedly I try not to wash my pants so the water doesn’t steal my masculine essence so we minimize Tide® use.

I think my three-day armpit smell is “pleasantly musky” which Old Spice © doesn’t like, and washing dishes is for cowards who don’t want to boost their immune system because of ptomaine.

Regardless, I have all that crap in my house right now.  I’m guessing that I spend about $100 a year on Proctor and Gamble’s® crap.

So, Gillette™ won, I guess.

But if I were to give advice to my kids?  Their money is not worth your soul.

If you looked at Google® in 2001, there wouldn’t have been a better place to work in the world.  Their motto was simple:  “Don’t be evil.”  In 2021?  Their motto is now, “leave no virtue standing.”  I would say their motto was, “bayonet the corpses” but that’s likely to be the motto of the Right in the not too distant future.

Here’s a new one:

Don’t work at a company that demands your soul.

Sure, if you agree with what they’re doing, it works.  If you like killing babies, by all means go work at Planned Murdermoms Parenthood©.  If you like censorship curated free speech, by all means, go work at Twitter® or FaceBorg™.  And if you believe that we’ve always been at war with Eastasia, Google© is your dream job.

I hear one Satanist’s soul weighed a pentagram.

And if you want to incite dweebs to incite violence, give them weapons, and then foil the crime?  Well how could you beat the FBI?  As long as we’re on government jobs, I hear the ATF is hiring . . .

In 2021, many companies (or gover1nmental agencies) demand your soul.

This is your choice.  If you pretend, there are only two outcomes.  They’ll end up firing you, or end up owning your soul.

Not a hard choice for me.  If you were 22 today I’d tell you – avoid the Leftists.  Avoid Leftist companies.  Avoid Leftist jobs.

As for me?

Wilderwealthywise?  I own the domain name.  I have the backed up files.  If they take me down?

I’m really down.  But I don’t worry.

Someone will replace me.  Next man up.  And there are millions of us.  One down, next up.

That’s why we’ll win.

“They can’t stop the signal, Mal. They can never stop the signal.”