Retired Fireman’s Political 5 Alarm Fire

January 13, 2008

I Am Now An Official Capitalist

Filed under: The Fireman's Fav's — Retired Fireman @ 7:51 pm

Mickey Rat

Nothing says that you are a Republican and a Conservative more than investing in the Stock Market.  Nothing says that you are an American more than Disneyland and anything having to do with Walt Disney and that whiny voiced little rodent that he turned into a global phenomenon that even Hammas has used to convert their children into future murderous thugs.  One day, it has been foretold by grea sages and hermits upon snow capped mountain tops in far off lands, the world will one day have a Buena Vista Copyright emblem on it and Tinker Belle will come out, fly around sprinkling her dust everywhere, starting every morning because Disney has purchased the world, and all that which inhabits it.

Back when I was 19-20, I fell in love with a gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed dazzling young lass who went to U.C. San Diego.  I followed her home and ended up living in the Los Angeles area.  Well, no young person living on his own in the South Land can call his life complete without working for the Rat, so I ended up working across the street at the Disneyland Hotel.  At the time it was owned by the Wrather Corporation, and was about to be bought out by the Disney Corp.  This was when there was still a patch of land across the street that was growing strawberries, where the family that owned it swore they would NEVER sell to Disney.  I believe at the time it was considered “The Most Expensive Piece of Land” or something like that.  It is now a parking garage and lot for Disneyland.  So much for never.  No telling how much they eventually sold it for.  I would imagine it was enough to buy Nicaragua AND Morocco, but that is just a rough guess.

I was the Supervisor of the Parking Department for the Hotel.  I was in the Union and still a  Supervisor, yet a non-Management position.  Kinda weird, but making good money.  The only thing it taught me to do was smoke a pack a day.  It also allowed me to look my childhood baseball hero right in the face, and tell him I didn’t give a flying “F” who the Hell he was but he needed to move his car now because he was holding up traffic.  Yeah…not a real good moment, since it was Reggie Jackson and it was a Weight Lifting show, and though I have since quit smoking about ten years ago, I still use Copenhagen Long Cut…a life long battle with nicotine all from my time with Wrather Corp .  No…I am not pulling a Liberal and blaming my addiction to nicotine on Wrather Corporation…just saying that’s when it started.  The Reggie Jackson story…well there is actually comedy behind that, but it is a long story and for another day.

Eventually, one of the Wrathers died, and finally they were able to do what they said couldn’t be done.  Wrather Corp was able to sell out to Disney.  This included the much desired Hotel as well as the Queen Mary and Spruce Goose attractions.  Disney had always resented not owning the Hotel, as they really had no control over the standards of the rooms, food or anything else.  Thus, when the standards were low, the customers complained to Disney, and Wrather got off scott free.  Well, when Disney came in, Disney decided not to honor any of the union contracts that were in place with Wrather.  All of a sudden, everyone was going to be absorbed under the Disney unions and have to follow the Disney rules of conduct and dress codes.  No make-up, women in skirts, no long hair and…bum bum bum bum….no moustaches.  Well, our security guards were pretty much 99% all Gunnery Sergeants from 29 Palms moonlighting.  All of them had moustaches.  Including my good friend, Biscuit.  Yup, that was his name.  7′ tall, weighed about 180 pounds, black Gunny with a God given name of Biscuit.  There was also a maintenance worker named Mike who had his moustache for the last 25 years.  It was truly a glorious moustache.  It was the type of moustache that songs were written about.  It was a handle bar style, groomed and waxed in a perfect curl. 

The word came down, shave them or lose your job.  We went through the “Disney Brain Washing” classes, otherwise known as “Disney University, that taught us how to smile and become mindless meat puppets and all the perfect Disney tricks, we went and saw all the neat Disney stuff “Backstage” and still, we refused to shave our staches, based on principal.  So, we left.  I, well,  didn’t get fired for my stache.  Instead, just before I did, I got a job at Rockwell Semi-Conductor making computer chips that went into PacMan games, Zenith Computers, and Missile Guidance Systems.  The other mustachioed workers?  Well, they went to God knows where.

Anyway, life went on, and no matter what, I never lost my love for Disney, nor for Disneyland.  I have always had fond memories of night after night, watching those beautiful fireworks going off, of all those tourists coming in the morning, and going away in the evening.  All those children, wide-eyed, happy and just bursting at the seams with finally getting to see their favorite creatures in the world, up close and personal.

Even today, if I could manage it, I would go to Disneyland every year.  I would go once in the summer and then again at Christmas time when the park is all decorated up and looking incredibly beautiful.  Nothing beats the “Phantasmic” show they have as it truly is the most incredible thing they have ever done, and the lights and decorations at Christmas will bring out the Spirit in even the most hardened Scrooge.

One thing I have always wanted to do, but never knew how, was to own a little piece of that magic.  I always wanted to be a share holder in the Disney Company.  I never knew how to go about owning stock, and I sure as heck never wanted to become a “Day Trader” or have to come up with several thousand dollars that i would need to get a broker.  Lord knows I am no financial genius, else i would not be sitting here in a house in Northern California bitching about Liberals.  I would be sitting in the Caribbean bitching about the alcohol in my Froo-froo drink and why there are too many tourists blocking my view of the scantily clad co-eds there on Spring Break.  However, the other day, I finally decided on a whim, to do a little search.  Yup, the “Evil Google Search Engine”, the one who is slowly but surely turning into the Orwellian Nightmare people always predicted while dancing on Bill Gate’s fortune’s grave, came through.  Apparently, Disney allows you to buy stock directly from them.

This is not one of those “Buy one share of stock and give it as a gift” deals.  Not at all.  It acts two ways.  You can either open the account with a minimum $1000, or you can open it with an automatic rotating deduction from your bank account of $100 every month.  The dividends automatically go towards buying more shares, and you can either keep the share certificates yourself, or you can arrange for them to keep them safe for you.  I, personally, will want them myself, because i want to feel them in my hands.  I want to know what it is like to own a piece of one of the largest corporations in the world…to be part owner of the company that once wanted to fire me for the simple fact that I had a cheesy, first time 19 year old’s moustache and refused to conform because I was a dumb and rebellious teen-ager in love with a hot blonde.

The web-site is linked here:

 I recommend checking it out.  They have a decent track record, they have alot in the works and hey, you know they are not about to go out of business anytime soon.  Besides…It is just really cool being able to say, “Hey…I own a piece of Disney”



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