Ah, to have a precious fizbot! Rare is the man who can resist his very own fizbot, a bountiful benefactor, his own Horn of Plenty. Once a man finds this golden goose, he forever rejoices in victory and asks the world to celebrate along with him. “Isn’t this great!” he cheers. For his fizbot is his god. Worship a man's fizbot and he will welcome you with open arms.
So what is a fizbot? It is that which saves you. A janitorial company owner once heavily recruited me to serve his fizbot, telling me how I could share in its fruits if I did its bidding. Many small business owners make a fizbot of their company. But even something like a credit rating can be made a fizbot. I’ll never forget the phone conversation I had with a girl who refused me a credit card because of my lack of a rating. I wasn’t a bad risk but that rating was her god – her provider – and she could see only to serve it.
Nothing makes fizbot followers angrier than to show disrespect for their god. You become the enemy. Conversely, they adore fellow worshippers. In Being There, Chauncey is welcomed by the billionaire he befriends because the billionaire believes Chauncey to be the ideal person: a business owner. They worship the same fizbot and nothing is more comforting than to share that. America is the land of fizbots and attaining one even implies a certain morality in a person.
It's understandable to see a person have a loyalty to that which frees him from the bondage of money. They find a formula for success and spend the rest of their lives either trying to re-create it (the pet rock guy never had a second act) or perpetually feeding it (hallowed be thy Walmart), hoping somehow to relive the euphoria of the initial emancipation. The reality is the fizbot worshipper ends up stuck in a sort of twilight zone he can never leave, for it is his fizbot – he believes – that saves him.
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