Tonight I packed to go to San Francisco. I’m ashamed of myself. I waited till the last minute and shoved a bunch of shit in several bags without thinking whether or not it was the right stuff.

I remember when I travelled; packing was a near religious experience. You selected just the right things, minimalized, streamlined, and then ended with a self-contained universe inside a tiny backpack, certain it would serve you well and indefinitely anywhere on the planet.

Oh how times have changed. I am surprised I had the initiative to pack a day early.

Several years ago I contacted EscapeArtist.com about writing an article about the business climate in Chile. I never wrote it of course, but I occasionally visit the site.

This week I’ve spent a lot of time imagining myself in some foreign locale, running a scam or buying a castle or brokering the insanely cheap beach real estate that still exists all over the planet. And Cuba….forget about it. Its a fucking gold mine!! There is so much out there…..

My dad basically owns two houses and has worked very hard for them. That being said, one can assume he is sitting on well over $200,000 of cheap money. Homes are not places to live. They are investment capital….a chance to make money work for you instead of always working for your money.

He never did anything with all that money. My dad is a safe man, both to his credit and detriment. He probably has insurance policies on his insurance….and a supplement on top of that. And now he is near retirement and will likely sit on that money for the rest of his life.

I know I have no family and nothing to lose…but….well there is a story in the bible about a man with three sons. The first squanders the money, the second buries the money under a tree and the third makes money with the money.

The man was not happy with son that buried the money.

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