FROM MISES TO MEESE AND BACK AGAIN
Throughout the summer, I have been continually heckled to write an article detailing how I went from a young “Austrian” scholar to an intern for Hon. Edwin Meese III at the Heritage Foundation and then transitioned back again to a Misesian. Well, finally, I am tired of keeping it in; so, I’ve decided to tell my story. It’s important to understand at the outset though that I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the Heritage Foundation, I truly admire Ed Meese, and if I had to choose a label for myself—well, I’ll tell you at the end.
I was living in a small trailer in Milledgeville, Georgia. It was about 31 degrees out. I was freezing. I didn’t have any direction. All I had was some candles, and some worn-out copies of Atlas Shrugged, Human Action, and The Communist Manifesto. I was contemplating which to burn first in order to stay warm for the evening. And then she showed up, Gwendolyn. Awe man, she was so hot; let’s just say she lit my fire and Rand made it through another night.
A few days later, I was coming home from the welfare office in Macon, and that crazy nut, Gwendolyn, was really lighting my fire. She had poured kerosene all over my trailer, and when I drove up, she lit it on fire. The whole thing burned in a couple of minutes. But that was okay man.
It was August 6, 2000. I remember the date well. See, the trailer burning didn’t matter because I had a scholarship to attend a weeklong conference at a libertarian institute in Alabama. The conference began that day, and it included room and board. It was an awesome week. Anyway, it was an awesome conference that expanded my world-view and convinced me that the government was absolutely 100% evil. So, I picked up my next welfare check on the way out of Auburn, and I returned to the Ville to begin my junior year of college.
Some time passed. I survived day to day. It was hard—very hard. But I kept getting my checks and going to school. I was driving a Beemer, drinking a lot of Chivas to stay warm, and quietly plotting how to overthrow all the antitrust laws. Oh, and I was keeping an eye out for Gwennie.
Next thing I knew, it was August 5, 2000. I returned to Auburn for another week-long love fest—all expenses paid since the post office had lost my last check in the mail…damn post office. It was another good week. The experience forged my views. I became a Hoppean. I was just hopping along. I picked up my next check, left Auburn, and I moved in with a kindergarten teacher in Macon.
She was cool and real good and stuff. I really liked her. But then Gwendolyn showed up one night. She convinced the teacher to burn down our little love nest. And that was that. Hey, to back up for a second, did you know that refrigerator boxes blaze up and burn out in about one minute and twenty-two seconds. That was okay though because about a month earlier Ed Meese’s intern for that spring backed out. When they were looking through a stack of résumés, they saw mine, liked it (primarily because my college president was legitimately listed as a reference), interviewed me, and offered me the job.
So, when my box burned, I moved to DC. I stayed in a lot of hostels, and in my spare time, I worked at an alcohol-delivery service. The internship was great. I got to work with a lot of cool people. And I delivered a lot of alcohol to famous people; I can’t name any here—they might sue. I also delivered to a lot of normal people. I can name them here, but that’s because they don’t have enough money to sue me. They include Dan Bociad, Daoud Douadheh, Jerry Asodiehribhdlk, Daniel McCarthy, and Osama Dosudfbneoud.
Anyway, round about May of that year, I was living with a waitress from Hard Times. There are several of these restaurants in the DC area, one in North Carolina, and they are opening one up in England. Awesome food! Awesome atmosphere. Awesome damn place. Go there if you get the opportunity, but don’t go there if you are on hard times. They aren’t really expensive, but you should save your money, read some Hulsmann, and get a job.
Back to the story. I was enjoying life. Scyndi was an awesome girl. She wanted to go to law school, but she couldn’t get accepted anywhere in the US. I think she finally went to Slovakia to get a degree. Matus will write about her expertise in one of his European sex columns, but kissing and telling ain’t my thing. So, I won’t go in to here…at least not for free. If you do want to know, it’ll be $11.57; call me at (911) 911-9111. No credit cards or personal checks accepted.
So, Scyndi and I were enjoying the fruits of our labor. I was getting $10 a day for working at Heritage, about $43 a night delivering booze, and still getting my welfare checks. Hell yeah baby. But then Gwen showed up with this Russian I had once dated and some Antartican kid who claimed that I ran over his penguin in Nebraska. Yeah, and then they burned down my shack by the river in Anacostia.
That’s okay though because the internship was up and DC was tiring me out. Plus, Scyndi and I had done about all the experimentation that we could anyway.
I drifted around for a year or so. Lived in a lot of places. Always watching my back. Hoping no one else tracked me down. Well, that is, except the mailman who delivers my checks. I attended law school, received a fellowship from this libertarian organization in Alabama, and returned to the Austrian school of thought. It was a rough road, and the fellowship ends tomorrow. The money, contrary to Bob Dylan’s t-shirts, has run out. I’ll miss everybody here, but I’m happy I found my way back to being a Meesesian. It all works out. Oh yeah, two Slovaks, an Iowan, and a Czech burned my apartment down last night! They said Gwennie Rothbo paid ‘em. It’s time to drift on. Later.