Post by The Mentor on Jul 12, 2023 23:13:11 GMT -5
California has always been the land of opportunity within the greatest nation this world has ever produced. Some people choose to ridicule The Golden State and that’s fine. It’s their patriotic right to do so. But make no mistake about it, California is where the dreamers dream and the fighters fight.
Whether it’s the blue waves of the Pacific crashing against the hopeful turf of America or that even-keeled temperature that never seems to wear anybody down, California enables the promising.
Most of the world is a fishbowl. California is an ocean.
An ocean of possibility.
A place where giants roam.
A home where legends reside.
The modern-day Atlantis.
On this late, almost chilly Tuesday afternoon, a hulking figure walks across the beach. His thousand-yard stare gazed across the Pacific, striking fear and awe into whatever figure it lays upon. The shadow of this man crosses over a tented community of unfortunate Californians without homes. As it does, inspiration strikes, and these misfortunate souls leave their tents and head off for a more prosperous life.
It is clear we are dealing with no ordinary man.
This is a man of legend.
A man of great accomplishment.
A true man among men.
Passing by a famous watering hole, the man pauses. It’s that TRIAD event he’s heard so much about. He steps into the establishment and is immediately offered every chair. He is honored by their show of respect and politely declines before taking the best seat in the house.
Dolores, a weathered, tired woman in her forties shows more sparkle than these locals have seen in weeks as she hurries over to tend to the protagonist of this story. The protagonist of everyone’s story.
“What’ll it be, (censored)?”
“Oh, Dolores, you know, the usual.”
She smiles, a tear falling down her cheek. The man reaches up and wipes it from her weathered skin, “I trust you’re doing fine, my dear.”
“I am now.”
She heads off to get that drink.
MERICA is in the ring. It isn’t looking good. The man leans in, watching as Sarah Wolf is close to tapping him out.
“As always, it’s on the house,” Dolores drops the drink off.
The man takes a sip, his gaze never leaving the television. The man’s focus is unlike anything these people have ever seen. His intensity is so forceful it convinces everyone else to watch and root for MERICA.
The match ends with Cortes pinning MERICA. The bar gasps. They all turn and look at the man. His equanimity is astonishing. It’s clear he was rooting for MERICA. But he will not allow the loss to visibly upset him.
He calmly sips his drink and leaves a thousand-dollar bill on the table.
“But, (censored)!” Dolores exclaims, shocked at the amount.
“You take care of yourself, Dolores. I’ve got business to attend to.”
The man stands. Everyone in the bar rises with him and salutes as he exits. He walks back down the beach, disappearing into the setting sun.
Whether it’s the blue waves of the Pacific crashing against the hopeful turf of America or that even-keeled temperature that never seems to wear anybody down, California enables the promising.
Most of the world is a fishbowl. California is an ocean.
An ocean of possibility.
A place where giants roam.
A home where legends reside.
The modern-day Atlantis.
On this late, almost chilly Tuesday afternoon, a hulking figure walks across the beach. His thousand-yard stare gazed across the Pacific, striking fear and awe into whatever figure it lays upon. The shadow of this man crosses over a tented community of unfortunate Californians without homes. As it does, inspiration strikes, and these misfortunate souls leave their tents and head off for a more prosperous life.
It is clear we are dealing with no ordinary man.
This is a man of legend.
A man of great accomplishment.
A true man among men.
Passing by a famous watering hole, the man pauses. It’s that TRIAD event he’s heard so much about. He steps into the establishment and is immediately offered every chair. He is honored by their show of respect and politely declines before taking the best seat in the house.
Dolores, a weathered, tired woman in her forties shows more sparkle than these locals have seen in weeks as she hurries over to tend to the protagonist of this story. The protagonist of everyone’s story.
“What’ll it be, (censored)?”
“Oh, Dolores, you know, the usual.”
She smiles, a tear falling down her cheek. The man reaches up and wipes it from her weathered skin, “I trust you’re doing fine, my dear.”
“I am now.”
She heads off to get that drink.
MERICA is in the ring. It isn’t looking good. The man leans in, watching as Sarah Wolf is close to tapping him out.
“As always, it’s on the house,” Dolores drops the drink off.
The man takes a sip, his gaze never leaving the television. The man’s focus is unlike anything these people have ever seen. His intensity is so forceful it convinces everyone else to watch and root for MERICA.
The match ends with Cortes pinning MERICA. The bar gasps. They all turn and look at the man. His equanimity is astonishing. It’s clear he was rooting for MERICA. But he will not allow the loss to visibly upset him.
He calmly sips his drink and leaves a thousand-dollar bill on the table.
“But, (censored)!” Dolores exclaims, shocked at the amount.
“You take care of yourself, Dolores. I’ve got business to attend to.”
The man stands. Everyone in the bar rises with him and salutes as he exits. He walks back down the beach, disappearing into the setting sun.