A long question

" The Making of Ashenden" is a story about a young gentleman who has everything: he is handsome, gifted, of impeccable character, charming, brave, educated, fun-loving, and rich,who sexually satisfies a bear,finaly.
a novella from collection Searches and Seizures (1973) (U.K. title: Eligible Men (1974)),by Stanley Elkin. It's hard to find this book,so i have a excerption here.
The Making of Ashenden (Excerption)
I've been spared a lot, one of the blessed of the earth, at least one of its lucky, that privileged handful of the dramatically prospering, the sort whose secrets are asked, like the hundred-year-old man. There is no secret, of course; most of what happens to us is simple accident. Highish birth and a smooth network of appropriate connection like a tea service written into the will. But surely something in the blood too, locked into good fortune's dominant genes like a blast ripening in a time bomb. Set to go off, my good looks and intelligence, yet exceptional still, take away my mouthful of silver spoon and lapful of luxury. What's mine, what's mine? jokeThere are people who gather in the spas and watering places of this world who pooh-pooh our fortune. Après ski, cozy in their wools, handsome before their open hearths, they scandalize amongst themselves in whispers
Not what? Snobs! Phooey on the First Families. On railroad, steel mill, automotive, public utility, banking and shipping fortunes, on all hermetic legacy, morganatic and blockbuster blood-lines that change the maps and landscapes and alter the mobility patterns, your jungle wheeling and downtown dealing a stone's throw from warfare.a bellybutton economics, a linchpin one.
It is as I see it a perfect genealogy, and Wealth is not after all the point. The genealogy is. That bridge-trick nexus that brought Newpert to Oh, Salts to Ashenden and Ashenden to Oh, love's lucky longshots which, paying off, permitted me as they permit every human life! (I have this simple, harmless paranoia of the good-natured man, this cheerful awe.) Forgive my enthusiasm, that I go on like some secular patriot wrapped in the simple flag of self, a professional descendant, every day the closed-for-the-holiday banks and post offices of the heart. And why not? Aren't my circumstances superb? Whose are better? No boast, no boast. I've had it easy, served up on all life's silver platters like a satrap. broken code, an extension of his own hospitable being, simply the Promethean gift of fire to a guestLike having a film star next to you on your flight from the Coast. There are treats of high order, adventure like cash in the street.
Let's enjoy ourselves, I say; let's have fun. Lord, let us live in the sand by the surf of the sea and play till cows come home. We'll have a house on the Vineyard and a brownstone in the Seventies and a pied-à-terre in a world capital when something big is about to break. (Put the Cardinal in the back bedroom where the sun gilds the bay at afternoon tea and give us the courage to stand up to secret police at the door, to top all threats with threats of our own, the nicknames of mayors and ministers, the fast comeback at the front stairs, authority on us like the funny squiggle the counterfeiters miss.) Re-Columbus us. Engage us with the overlooked, a knowledge of optics, say, or a gift for the tides. (My pal, the heir to most of the vegetables
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all leballed are what i don't understand.I hope someone could help me to understand these.I will be appreciate very much