I speak the truth: I could break down crying to hear Corey and my hero Gerry speaking well about me, why mince the matter? Why lie? We care about what people think about us... Which leads me to the point, Corey, about Jake. Jake is 27 years old. Man, as long as I live, I don't think that I will EVER forget what Mick said to Sean when he was (as we are all wont to do, if we're honest) railing against one of the millenial kids he had hired to drag his brush. Mick said: "Remember: what he feels for you is something of a mixture between pity and contempt." Pure gold. Absolutely priceless.
When I got to Eastside from Davey... man... this is funny to tell... the dude (Jake) was just so very curious about me... he would see all of my crap lying on the floor of the shop and say, "Man, why is all of your stuff so... well... OLD?" I was laughing out loud. I was like, "Dude, have you looked at my face yet?"...
These kids man... they just have a different take on life, you know what I mean?... Instagram... youtube... TicToc... MarcoPolo... all this stuff the youngun's are into.. man... I'm thinking about that song by Bad Religion, "Quality or Quantity."
You see: The Treehouse is pure quality. Here we find aged men who implicitly understand the immesurable wealth God has given to the man who regularly urinates in one of the greatest aromatic theaters that has ever existed on the face of the Earth. I'm talking, of course, about the back of a chip truck. Leyland Cypress... Port Orford Cedar... Western Red Cedar... need I go on? The trouble today, is that men don't measure wealth properly. Bill Gates NEVER urinated in so glorious an expanse.
And that, my good friends, brings me to the wretched subject: Quantity. See: all of the young kids ALSO understand that all of the time taken to record, edit, upload and post (let us not forget the time spent LEARNING how to do all this stuff.
) is very precious. So they justify it (and try to dodge the vanity bullet) with the idea that their precious time could, and I stress COULD, one day pan out into the sort of thing that could eventually provide some kind of a sustainable income. Corey: Jake's a good man, but, my guess is... if we could drag his ass in here... he wouldn't stay for long. He, Glen Blair, August, perhaps even Reg (though I would be LOATH to believe it! Forget that, I straight-up DON'T believe it) have chosen. They have chosen quantity.
But this place? The Treehouse?... man... we're dinosaurs, ya know? But SUCH dinosaurs! Where else can you find men who will experience pure elation at the prospect of getting to COMPLAIN about being completely covered in sap.
Here, certainly, we find men (in addition to glorious Fiona!) who measure wealth in a vastly different way from the majority of humanity. Men who will lie on a stump, counting the rings, smelling the smells... wondering at the wind-checks filled with sap and creating pitch-wood.
And yeah, Ger... I gotta agree... there IS great hope for humanity... when I got back from that fallin gig, dumping fire-kill old growth into a ravine... this millenial at Eastside saw my fallin axe, COMPLETELY covered in pitch and absolutely jet black from the soot, and his eyes got big. He goes, "So, is that just from the sap from those firs covering that?" I was like, "Yeah, man it was nuts." He just stood there nodding his head: "Whoaaa."