Seriously, I’m a hermit. In theory I don’t do weekdays and weekends. Also in practice, since I had a paying gig yesterday and there’s another today, whereas I didn’t actually make a dime Monday through Friday. So weekends: Not really a meaningful concept. And yet here it is Sunday and I’m all…


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They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
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I don’t normally pay much attention to ‘weekends” or holidays either… except on rare occasions when things I need are not available then. When the greenhouse is in operation, my days off are Tuesday and Wednesday, which is fine with me.
Just imagine, however, the way things were long ago. I was reading a book about the 16th century in London. The upperclass servants and clerk types had a “half day” off work, but the only acceptable use for that time was going to church. They were effectively on duty and on call 24/7 otherwise. And they, of course, were the lucky ones.
Yeah – England appears to have been the first country to deal with the problem of what to do with ‘excess labour’ – and often its solution was to let’em starve. For people not actually tied to a farm, a ‘position’ was a precious and precarious thing that could be lost with an employer’s momentary frown. American chattel slaves probably worked less – and worried less – than an employed Englishman of that period. It would have been scary.
You have friends, so in my opinion your only claim to the “hermit” designation is that you self-identify as one. Since some of those friends are weekender neighbors, it seems inevitable that your weekends differ from your weekdays. Enjoy!
Hermits can have friends.
See?