
A young Austrian bodybuilder arrives in America and starts looking for work.
He can find only menial labor that pays almost nothing. Cleaning up construction debris. Lifting crates onto trucks.
He does this work with a grim face and without complaint. His employer, a small, apprehensive man, sometimes apologizes when he asks the bodybuilder to do particularly unglamorous tasks.
When he’s asked to haul thirty splintery wooden crates up to the second floor:
“It is fine. I get to strengthen my biceps, and enjoy how strong they already are.”
When he’s asked to gather all the scrap iron from a factory floor and put it into a bin:
“It is good. I get to strengthen my back, and enjoy how strong it already is.”
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I'm having similar experiences w/r/t withdrawal symptoms. Little soundbites come through to me and there's a strong urge to pull on the thread and find out where it's coming from. I find it especially frustrating when I sense that I'm being given a "spun" version of what's happening -- normally...