Rich, White Guys: Why Such a Mystery?
From the landing outside my second-story granny unit in Santa Rosa, I can hear the jets come and go from Sonoma County Airport. They are private jets: the ones I saw yesterday while at an autocross event yesterday (decadent, I know -- at the back end of the airport) look like they can hold about eight passengers.
They could be shuttling people -- men, of course -- from other airports or they could be privately owned. I don't know: it's all quite mysterious to me how they acquire the money, the power to own those kinds of things or get those kinds of services. Perhaps, some other rich guy is lending his jet and his pilots to his rich "buddies."
They are headed to a bucolic piece of wilderness among the redwoods just ten miles from the ocean and a couple of hours from San Francisco. What do they talk about? Elections? Tax codes? How to easily move money and jobs offshore? Marriages falling apart?
They are reminding me of my financial status: I don't make any money just yet and...I haven't for three years. Ever since the "crash," it has been a struggle, nay an impossibility, for me to get paid for my endeavors. Good thing I'm banking on the long-haul.
Tags » mystery