^Agree. For me it's a life stage. I've been here for fucking 8 years, I think, and have gone from godawful poor, divorced, student to moderately wealthy prof. I can give away shit to someone who actually wants to play the game. It means more psychically to me than the 8 dollars I would have made really putting my nose down and maximizing income.
I've said it before (maybe here?) but one of my favorite lines in all of literature is from a Christmas Carol, I don't think it could be more applicable to the visceral, pointless, post-industrial capitalism of our time:
"Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas."