"An unenlightened man is like a man in a cave with his hands bound.
He is looking at the wall and seeing the spot of light from the entrance to the cave which is behind him.
You step into the dark cave, out of the light and try and tell the man there is more to his life than this.
But he exclaims almost like a madman that "He sees the light! He sees the light!",
looking at the beam of light on the wall, all the time telling you to look there also. Here lies the 'finite' man.
“But sir if you only look around you, you will see that is just a ‘fraction’ of the Light.”
But the man refuses, for around him at first is darkness, and
The Light is behind him in the middle of the darkness, bigger and brighter than ever before.
But he refuses to look and therefore he cannot see what you and I can see.
He is the ‘limited’ man.
We the 'Infinite' men.
Which one are you?”
Chapter One: OSKAR ARRIVES
I’ll never buy a frigging Porsche-911 again!
I got a great deal on a new model for around $200,000.00.
I had it custom made.
I went to the auto repair shop for my porsche, one of four of my sports cars I owned,
which was not running right and probably needed a tune-up.
Stupid car! Joe, my good friend, told me not to buy it.
As I pulled into the shop, I was greeted by Joe, my old
Italian auto mechanic friend. He had worked on all my cars
since I bought my house in Beverly Hills, ‘hills’ for about 3.5 mil.
"I told you not to buy that thing. Back already, huh?"
"I had a t-shirt with the same name as the car on it, so I HAD to buy it." I told Joe.
"Yeah, yeah, you rich dudes just don't know what to do with all your money! Don’t have to work like us working-class people out here!"
“Oh yeah, you try promoting a couple of million records a month! We started laughing. He had reminded me of a song I wrote and had made bank on.
Andre Nickatina's record company brought the lyrics and the music which I had written and composed for a kool 1.5 million dollar check. It sold 5 million copies in two months. And I received a few royalties payments from that also.
In the Music Industry, you could go years barely able to pay the rent and eat. And the following month write that one song that makes you millions...almost overnight!
Of course the more your lyrics echoed the ‘voice of the wilderness’ the better your chances of making bank.
Some of my song lyrics went as follows:
"Popping pills in Beverly Hills,
They don't know what to do with all their money.
Watching poor men work is a very cheap thrill,
They watch them die and think it's very funny-
Poppin' pills. In Beverly Hills. They’re popping pills.
In Beverly, Beverly, Beverly Hills!"
Copyrighted © 2015/17 by BLP. All Rights Reserved.
I don't know if he heard it or not, but the tune of it was playing in my head at the time. It was an exaggeration of the attitude rich people had towards their service people, servants, and the people that worked for them. Well, at least it was suppose to be.
Then I saw him. I don't know what made me look that way, but in the corner of the room, with a blanket around his cold, naked, body was this tall black man. He looked as lost as he was naked. He was shivering and had his head down in a white cup of coffee. From where I was act, he looked like, well, ‘down and out in Beverly Hills’ except this time it was a black man...no such thing.
"WTF!?" I said, curious and smiling. Was this some sort of publicity stunt? This guy was sitting at attention like Forrest Gump.
"Oh that character over there...