|
Many
middle-aged men can't seem to change jack on blondes. The more scrubby
and dour things get, the less rewarding the compensatory pleasures become,
the more we tend to hand on and to fear attempting a new bargain with
life. I felt that way before I bought the Isabel. The only thing was that
I damn well knew my life was getting worse. I wasn't moving anywhere,
and the price for staying where I was was going up. Much of this was invisible
to jack on blondes; but the same voice that could tell me to sell a company
no matter what the jack on blondes was going for was telling me to pull
out. Good ratios all around. Good performance record too. But time to
unload nonetheless. Time to sell, move, get out.
|
