Worse Things Could Happen!

I move to call any organization that thinks you're messed up—and can only be "saved" by it, as measured by it's own criteria—a cult.

Would that include business?

All organized religions?

All new age and motivational gurus?

Suze Orman?

The entire psychology industry?

Your marriage?

Yoga?

All schools that test and grade?

The entire Judeo-Christian tradition?

The reason I think this is my own run-ins with extreme self-doubt.

And my own periodic overwhelming desires to be "saved".

Starting I guess with my girlfriends in middle high school.

Moving on to sports.

And continuing into the punk rock scene.

Taking a turn in the world of non-profits.

Getting stuck for a while being so-called progressive.

Oh—and don't forget fraternities in college. I got blackballed, but for whatever reason I was up their ass anyway. For the first two years anyway. They accepted all my friends, denied me and I still delivered fresh meat to their drunk-ass doorstep.

Does self-hatred have any limits at all?

Then I went off to work. For others at first—nope, that doesn't work—then for myself—uh--I don't think so.

Busier than ever.

Then I crashed out and became almost literally unable to move.

Except after long periods of rest.

And then only to do what I most wanted in the world.

The challenge is obvious: if you start off valuing something as rare because you don't have it...

Or a club great because people like you aren't members..

Then you literally can't get what you want from them.

Cause in the first, initial—or even pre-initial—negotiation, you sold low like a punk.

Admitted you were nothing without them.

How on earth could kissing ass ever get your own shit back?

All these institutions are built upon the Judeo-Christian notion of original sin—that we're flawed, don't know what we want, are destructive when we think we do, and are essentially negative entities.

Our entire culture and almost every utterance it makes—sacred or profane, right or left, rich or poor, artistic or commercial, yuppie or punk, new age or old school—points back to this fundamentally held truth.

It's either restating it—insisting that everyone is wrong—or insisting that it's wrong—which is, of course, an even more thorough, complete and final restatement.

(How we can possibly then become positive entities by banding together and endlessly deferring our individual authority is another matter—but we seem happy to try. Thus we get the CEO—actually the nebulous shareholders—who knows something. Or the pope. Or "the people", or "the scene", or "the market". There seems to be no end to groups or individuals we trust with our authority—and no end to our shock and disappointment when they fail us.)

But there's no negative signal that can be mediated into a positive one.

Mediation—which is what institutions and cultures do—only edits and refines. Standardizes.

It doens't—it can't generate.

Even a group process—even one where the sum appears greater than the parts—even that extra magic relies upon individual presence! No matter how otherwise it may appear.

It's our fucking freaky selves that generate.

Like Bootsy, baby!

And it ain't been standard yet (smooch)!

You freak.

The alternative—the only alternative—is what science is now discovering...

Wait, it's actually not an alternative at all, but a more honest truth that shows how we've been living until now to be wildly alternative and deviant.

(Get that? Modernism—and traditional business folks are the weirdest and most alternative, followed by the punks and post-modernism, which is somewhat weird and alternative. What is just now emerging and peeking through, is actually normal and traditional. Just like the world having always been round.

Check it.)

What science is discovering is that the entire universe is a unified field of dark energy that essentially decides to downgrade itself into energy and, even lower, into matter for whatever purposes it sees fit.

How they describe dark energy is imaginary energy.

Imagination.

Which, of course, means that the ancients were right all along—we are gods dream. Or our own dream.

Only better, because we chose not to listen to them, and made ourselves prove it rationally and scientifically; instead of knowing that with rampant TB, diptheria, infections, hunger and absessed teeth, we now get to live an denjoy it concretely—with individual palaces, paintings, heat, clean water, bank accounts, sterilization, birth control, TV, movies, the wheel, cell phones, cashmere sweaters, hot water and the like.

What does being a unified field mean?

It means that we—even in our material form—are exactly what we want to be.

Are perfect.

Not only that—and how scary is that! We might not be wrong!

No—actually—as a unified field, we have absolutely never been wrong and no matter what we do could never be wrong.

We're exactly what we choose every moment.

Yikes.

Scientists figure that dark energy accounts for at least three-fourths of the universe. With energy and matter making up the other fourth.

(They don't have the equasion yet, but given that matter is just another form of energy, it seems all but certain that both matter and energy are just different forms of dark energy. Stay tuned for an equation even more simple and powerful than E=mc2.)

Dark energy is the reason the universe is expanding when all our scientific calculations (read all our reasonable reason, and our best efforts at objectivity up until now) say it should be contracting.

Sound familiar?

Post-modernism says we should be done.

No more ideas or anything to do. (Cue My Chemical Romance here).

Slit cha wrists.

Meanwhile, three fourths of the universe—and that's a considerable amount, by the way, it's not three fourths of earth, or even our galaxy, but the whole shebang—three fourths of the universe demands, compels, and insists that we are growing.

And growing despite our insistence that we're dying.

Another way of saying it is that despite your material and even spiritual unhappiness, you are growing, happy, powerful and content beyond your wildest dreams.

So much for intention running things.

Or work.

Or knowledge.

Or even creativity.

Things just run, dude.

Ain't nothing you can do about it.

Except maybe get into it or try to insist it's not happening, fun, sexy and luscious.

You can apply the same thing to business, or psychology, or art even.

We're all expanding in every way despite all appearances.

And without any action, belief, thought, desire or input from our conscious, subconscious or energetic selves.

Our imagination is having a field day.

Literally.

Iterally.

And if we're not doing as well as we'd like, could it be that we're out of step with the natural order?

Could it be that we insist on cutting our wrists when all the universe did is put day after beautiful sunny day outside, a roof over our heads, money in the bank and Hagen Dazs in the fridge?

Could it be that we insist on insecurity after we've accomplished everything we've set our minds to for the last several thousand years?

Got rich, been enlightened, won universal rights, learned magic, made iPhones.

Could it be that we dreamed up the conditions and we dreamed up the rewards?

Could it be that dream up difficulty where we want to and ease where we want to?

And that even then a larger, unified field spins every single thing we do unified.

Could it be that we can't un-unify?

Put it this way: what if we had nothing to do with it?

What if our highest selves were actually unified by nature.

By design. (Whoa—who designed it then? —New god questions already, but even if there were higher, more again disunified states, why would we choose to go there? Or, rather, why would we choose to go there before we had enjoyed whatever we wanted to in the unified field's Elysian Fields? Y'all do what you want, I say, "Last one in the pool's a rotten egg!)

What if we were one permanently and inexhaustably?

Inexcusably.

No matter what decisions we made, course we took, or risks we ran?

No matter what grades we got.

No matter how many convictions we had.

No matter how recently we felt we had harmed the ones we loved.

No matter what happened—good or bad—ever.

Would you go get a Harley then?

I am.

Damn shootin'.

If we're not peons and slaves to a morose and tempermental god, then we're free.

Period. Either we're slaves or we're free.

There's no middle ground.

And what the state of the universe is—as science has proven—has nothing to do with our understanding of it at any given time!

It's not that ignorance of the law is no excuse—quite the opposite.

Ignorance of the law is immaterial.

Ignorance is immaterial.

As is everything else we can think of.

Including, of course, but not limited to—cause I know a lot of you go straight there—rape, murder, child molestation, Hiroshima, torture, treason, trying, failing, hurting, helping, winning, losing, greed, sloth, avarice, coveting your neighbor's wife, stealing, Hollywood endings, reality TV, cheap shoes, talking on your cell phone in the restaurant or theatre, failing to use turn signals, bad parenting, talking back, potty mouth, pissing on the carpet, inattentive customer service, dirty fingernails, drug and alcohol use or abuse, shoddy workmanship, locking people up, gaudy taste, new money, Hummers, environmental degradation, littering, pollution, waste, being a hard ass, being a pushover, arrogance, sleeping around, jacking off, sleeping in, poor eating habits, lecherous desires, submissive behavior, inappropriate relationships, statutory rape, idleness and whatever other personal pet peeves you or I might have.

They are all immaterial.

Don't matter a lick.

(The hardest for me to write, by the way, were dirty fingernails, environmental degradation, jacking off, and statutory rape—all of which I have personal experience with.)

Cause we are not only RUNNING THE UNIFIED SHOW, but also whole-ly supported in our efforts.

If love is really love and we are it—then we are loved.

Period.

And forever.

Past, present and future and any other dimension we can think of.

Unconditionally and omni-directionally.

In every way and in every fiber of our body.

AND—and this is very important—THAT LOVE IS GROWING AT ALL TIMES NO MATTER WHAT WE THINK, HOW WE FEEL, WHAT PROGRESS OR RELAPSES APPEAR TO HAVE BEEN MADE, what other people think of us or say to us, what we say to ourselves, what our credit report looks like, how long we've been out of work, what our intentions are, if we did our homework, how fucked up we are, what illnesses or mental conditions we have, how we think our life is going, if we read as much as we like to, if we read the right books or watch the right television.

This love is permanent and everlasting.

It never changes except to grow even more complete.

It starts off perfect adn gets better.

That's it.

No matter if you finish your screenplay, stay with the jerk, beat your children, hit your wife, are abusive, withdraw from social situations, are a ward of the state, are adopted, are alone, nag constantly, are a control freak, are neurotic, are compulsive, have ADD, are medicated or self-medicate, are off your meds, bought too many clothes you didn't need, have excessive credit card debt, are sinking, troubled or plain.

Your support is unwavering, solid and growing by the instant.

Science says so.

As does every religion, spiritual tradition, and every other physical, human, natural and unnatural act, belief, thought and feeling.

Perfect and getting more so constantly without any input or effort on your part.

So what's not to do?

I could even imagine that all the shit we point to as proof that we could possibly even make mistakes is nothing but responses to the first impulse we've adapted as our nature for whatever reason—that we're pieces of grunt.

Like upset teenagers, we use the fear of being judged as a reason to lash out.

But not even that matters—and you can tell because it sounds pissy. Bitchy.

Judgemental.

Which doesn't mean it's not okay—nothing is not okay—just that it, like our current business, schools, relationships, fraternities, and institutions—is inefficient.

And that we can have the feelings, money, expertise, mastery, relaxation, joy, love, ice cream, sex, relationships and attention we want more easily.

Much more easily.

And let's look at the other side.

What a culture that employs these efficiencies might look like.

How good it can possibly get.

How rich we can all be. (I know you want it. That's okay—me too).

How happy we can get—on this material and very real plane. Right here and right now.

And how easy it will be.

How effortless it can possibly get.

How much fucking we'll enjoy.

How often and with how many partners.

How long and how acceptingly.

How calmly and how enjoyable.

How engagedly and how relaxingly.

For the other side is lovely indeed.

What would it feel like to have complete support for every decision you even contemplated—no matter how small or large?

For every purchase.

For every nap.

For every change and re-negotiation.

For every relapse.

For every aggressive move.

For every passive miss.

What if they were all not only okay but desireable?

And it was only our belief that any of them could ever be undesirable that caused static on our line?

And that even that static caused—in a very Newtonian way—the elimination of itself.

Without any input from ourselves.

Or with input!

Whatever!

If we are a unified field, then it literally is all play.

We are 100% guaranteed and certified from the start.

Through the middle.

And all about the end.

Authentic, real, certain, holy, desirable, beautiful, wanted, loving, enjoyable.. blah, blah, blah.

Not only is the process guaranteed and holy, but the results are as well.

We don't have to set intentions, plan for it or construct methodologies.

We don't have to study our past, train for it, or even do it.

We don't have to pray, worship, pay dues, hone your chops or get better.

We don't need self-help, management books, thearpists, consultants, personal trainers, a tan, or even doctors, lawyers, priests or gurus.

Unless we want them, of course.

A short personal note, I used to see a therapist who would do almost nothing but listen. He'd literally just let me go for most of the hour.

I almost always entered with a grimace and almost always left with a shit-eating grin, just as I saw other clients leave.

One day I had a bit of a revelation. I was trying to figure out what I wanted with regard to x, y, or z and it dawned on me.

I realized that we were all doing exactly what we wanted—by whatever rationale we had set up for ourselves—and so I asked him (I still needed expert validation at that point):

Are we all just doing what we want? Does everyone do exactly what they want every day?

His genius can be seen in his response:

"It would appear so," he said.

It would appear so.

Motherfucker.

I left with a smile that day too.

And when I moved and had to stop going,even though I was in a way better place, I was scared shitless.

Anything can become a crutch.

Or maybe everything does become a crutch.

Which is okay too.

Get healthier and healthier crutches until such time that you toss them all.

Or, just toss them all and do what you want from the start.

It should work just as well either way.

Another note: I figured a whole bunch of this out by doing almost nothing for the last number of months. Literally almost nothing.

Wait, that's not true. I just wasn't producing.

I was consuming.

Which brings me to th second part of this love.

Consumption.

If we are a unified field primarily—first and foremost—then the most holy—or primary—act we can engage in——in fact the only act we can engage in——is consumption.

Being ourselves.

Or, as I like to say, boing ourselves—being and doing at the same time. It eliminates the whole am I allied with the east or west, should I be or do thing.

Fuck it.

Boing it, dog!

Boing that shit!

We are all of it.

And it's all everything.

There's nothing to be made. Nothing to be done.

And nothing has ever been done.

We can do whatever we want.

And it'll be new.

Production is an illusion just like time.

No reason not to use it if you feel like it.

You can't really miss your destiny.

Or even degrade your experience.

Not by choice, not by action, not by feeling, not by thought, intention or feeling.

You can certainly choose to enter an illusion of pain, or anything for that matter, but you do so freely—for your own reasons and at your own pleasure.

And here's the most important part..

Even if you feel stuck, and even if you feel the illusion you are stuck in is of your own construction, you are blameless.

We are in complete control, and absolutely blameless.

Lord have mercy.

Why?

Because whatever undesirable conditions you are unable to exit at a given time, are actually—for whatever reason—desirable to your higher, more unified self.

Maybe they're making you certain. Maybe they're toughening your ass up for when you go worldwide.

Maybe you're already perfect adn still growing. Just like the rest of the universe.

Maybe you'll never be able to handle the strains of rock superstardom and being a chimp-training jet pilot without experiencing your current bosses' neuroses?

But—and it's a great ass—you can also immediately reach a state where you entirely enjoy it. By associating with the unified field—and by knowing for sure that any experience like this need never happen again.

You can do anything you want.

Cause the part of you that may have liked to be seduced by illusion—and there are many reasons to, as Guns and Roses says, Use Your Illusion—now sees, now believes.

Now understands and enjoys the perpetual warmth, comfort, support, and prosperity of the unified field.

And anytime you choose to forget that it will be to make it more certain and perfect. To learn to apply it in even more situations and circumstances.

To make your life even easier and more enjoyable.

In the Judeo-Christian model, comfort and support are scarce. As is warmth, enjoyment, nourishment of all sorts and prosperity.

And production is needed to achieve them at all.

But what a continual focus on production yields, at our most material level, is poverty and exhaustion.

First in the material realm, and then, as our material poverty fades, then we become poor and exhausted mentally and emotionally.

The only thing that must happen according to universal law is that we get what we imagine: disconnection and scarcity.

But, as the universe is also always growing (and remember, we're not separate from it, so if we insist that we're separate and poor, that may be perfect for the universe at that time? Who knows?

We all know actually. And that's what we wanted.

What we want to know now is how to be both strong and relaxed.

How to live with both will and grace fully engaged.

How to be perfect and get even more so every second.

So why did a focus on production—which sould have yielded enormous emotional, material, and spiritual riches leave us so spent?

To eliminate scarcity, and to make production holy, consumption—enjoyment, fucking, spending, inhaling, relaxing, allowing—was demonized. (Here in the west anyway. It appears that we took the opposite route in the east—that of making consumption and passivity holy and demonizing individuality and production.)

Enjoyment was such an essential force that it was likely that no one thought it (I originally typed "though tit"—make your own conclusions) could ever be squelched.

Like a rich guy putting aside a few extra dollars to do good work.

Like the original hardwood forests—who ever thought a couple guys with a few saws could even dent those?

Then came chainsaws bulldozers, and earth-moving machines.

They even log with helicopters in some place (I think--sounds good anyway).

But we've grown faster and more powerful than we could have ever imagined!

(Now realize that and re-apply it fourteen times to yourself—economically, emotionally, spiritually and physically. Raise your fucking standards, yo!)

And, oh we dented it alright.

We slammed that shit.

The most productive of us don't even feel—or engage in—our most sacred and enjoyable act of consumption.

Fucking.

Even when they follow all the rules—are married, aren't tired, have already put the kids to bed, and have the rest of the week off.

They don't do it.

And half the ones doing it aren't enjoying it.

And half the ones enjoying it aren't doing it as long as they'd like.

And almost no one's doing it as often as they'd like.

With the return they'd expect.

Which can tell you just about everything you need to know about our economy, culture and science.

So what model of success have we built?

The most powerful, free and rich people in the history of the world.

More lusted after than movie stars.

More comfortable and rich than royalty.

Who have people around the world willing to be their sexual partners sight unseen..

And aren't even enjoying the world that they themselves run?

—Must be something structural.

If the world is a unified field first and foremost, then a focus on production is a focus on illusion. Nothing can be either made nor destroyed.

But a focus on consumption—a focus on fucking, enjoyment, leisure, eating, being, doing what you want, and allowing?

Now that's efficient.

Even if your goal is production!

Say that twice!

Even if your goal is material production, the most efficient way to get there is through consumption—energetic, emotional, physical and spiritual.

We would never suggest that a child grow through production.

In fact we have laws against it.

No, a child grows best when it focuses on consumption.

And who would suggest better health through a greater quantity or higher quality—a focus on—of what one exhales?

And let's get straight to it, cause I don't want to sit around and argue Econ 101 with you motherfuckers all day:

Even if you want to product the largest shit in the world—a shit that will shame and humble all previous shits and attempts at shits..

(Insert biggest quarterly profits, most holy church, kindest non-profit institution, giaganto annual return, relaxing retirement, ROI, smartest child, best school, most beautiful painting, baddest blog entry, or most transcendental spiritual moment—whatever result you'd like to see—for shit if you can't handle the most elemental truth.)

Even if you want to piss for weeks..

You would focus exclusively on eating.

EXCLUSIVELY on drinking!

If anything, you would withhold production as long as you possibly could.

Ignore all suggestions and subtle inclinations that it might be time to produce as long as humanely possible.

It's the same with fucking.

Even if you want to fuck the most, most beautiful women in the world the most often.

You wouldn't come as fast as you could—in order to do it again, prove your productive acumen, or get to the next one more quickly.

You'd fucking rock it.

You prove your ability to consume the highest possible energy, attention and feelings.

For the longest possible time.

And as enjoyably as possible.

You wouldn't try to hustle a hundred women at the same time.

But convert one true believer thoroughly.

You wouldn't try to motivate—push—a whole club, but inspire so thoroughly one intimate bedroom.

And let your results speak for themself.

And then you can throw away the little black book, the used car salesman routine and the Viagra.

Cause you're gonna have to beat 'em off with a stick.

And—if you're really dense—you can swap boardroom, customer, friend or however you choose to convey value at the time for lover.

It's all the same stuff.

Value is value.

Results are results.

Profits profits.

Gains gains.

Paid in whatever currency you desire.

So what do you want?

Get it now?

And I wouldn't even suggest you investigate my methods primarily for money—although you're certainly welcome to.

And I certainly imagine I'll make more of it than most—if not any—who have ever lived.

Either my math is right or it's not.

And it's not anything new or special. Just the same math as applied by everyone else.

I even took a couple years of calculus.

Until the 8am quizzes kicked my ass.

And I say that I'll make this kind of money not because I have any unique gift or talent (though I certainly may, if I can enter a personal note) —not because I am any different than anyone else..

—But precisely because I am the same!

And I encourage—have been encouraging others to do the same.

Precisely because I know they can.

And precisely because I know they can without any input from myself.

Though they may be able to do it more quickly and more easily by studying my stumbling blocks.

What I have done is learned how to consume longer, more thoroughly and more regularly than any I've met or heard of.

How to strike off into new joyful debt without any income, a new product, or relief in sight.

And how to do that in a culture that insists that you are flawed, and will certainly withhold it's myriad rewards and recognitions while you do, without letting it dampen your consumptive desire, acumen or ability.

Or at least how to plow through how shitty confronting all that disbelief might make you feel.

And I long to be bested.

In the realm of spiritual competition, there is plenty of room.

It is a battle of the imagination.

And there can literally be no losers.

The lowest are inspired.

The higher are more inspired.

And everyone's sucking it all in.

Plus, I think I'll give her a run for her money.

But all fucking around aside, if we are already together, rich, happy, blissed out, calm, joyous, titilated and delighted—and a unified field would certainly be all that and then some—if we are already everything, then we can grow no other way but to enjoy what we already are and admit our hunger to consume even more.

And, if our methods for attaining new heights are also of our own construction, then why not develop and maintain...


No, no no.

Just a minute.

Why not NOT develop OR maintain shit?

Why not give up on development and maintenance altogether?

Why not let the damn unified field run itself?

And give us our benes—pay us our dividends—regardless?

Why not set it up as a completely passive income?

Of money, health, luxury, enjoyment, delight and whatever else we want?

The gurus are still stuck on work.

Think this, produce what you want in your life.

Focus, imagine, visualize.

You think that god doesn't know what you truly want in your life?

You think that a unified field somehow needs reminders and intention worksheets?

Or even meditations, pictures, chants, dances, speakers, workshops or prayers?

You think that a perfect world wouldn't send you to the beach to splash around with the kids while the everything was delivered to your house?

While the money was deposited directly into your bank account?

While the energy, enjoyment, and nourishment was downloaded permanently and without reminder or notice directly into your being?

Hell, if we're imagining conditions for the universe to deliver, I'd make it effortless.

I'm making it despite what I say, feel or do.

I want to be happy despite the statement possibly being taken as a declaration of lack or a hope for the future—like many NLP folks say.

This fucking place knows what I mean.

It's not stupid.

I ain't got as much as I'd like. Bring more now!

How can I get more clear?

By saying I already have it?

And sounding like an asshole when I have to tell you to split the bill?

If we're getting what we create then I create talking normally and having the universe do the translation.

With no fucking around, new texts to read, new techniques to learn, cassettes to buy, Learning Annex expos to attend or real estate gurus to invest in.

Just give it to me straight.

Isn't that what it is we believed in—we imagined scarcity—and created mass poverty?

So why not believe in ease and effortlessness and create mass luxury and a wealth of feelings?

Why not believe in anything and create not the thing but the belief?

Why not do what you want and reap the rewards unconditionally?

Like every single religion, guru and spiritual tradition suggests?

What if even our reward triggers we create?

Then lets make them easy.

And, on a personal note, then—and only then—will all of the sweat and tears I "involuntarily" produced (for myself) be worth fucking worth it.

Easy street forever.

Permanently.

If I have to go on tour and convince auditoriums full before I get the goods, I'll pass.

I don't like hotel rooms enough.

And I can only imagine that much scheduling being appealing in very, very slim scenarios.

Why not just write the word and have people come to it?

Or speak it.

Or put the video up on You Tube?

And have tehm come to me?

Wouldn't that be more perfect?

Wouldn't that be more efficient?

Wouldn't that be more profitable?

Wouldn't that generate more growth, more feeling, more time for us all?

Let's do what we want.

We'll see.

I also want it for my whole family.

For present and future generations as well as myself.

I'd say to the degree that it can be passed along, but why wouldn't we be in charge of that too?

In a perfect world.

So it's passed along.

Like the most infectious virus imaginable.

Hell, why would I even reserve it for my own kin?

For everyone, always!

Permanently, despite any thoughts, wishes, actions or feelings to the contrary.

An everpresent sense of wellbeing.

Of certitude and relaxation.

Of engaged calm and enjoyment.

Of joy and wonder.

Of whatever they choose.

Always and whenever and however they choose it.

But better.

Much better—according to their own freely chosen standards.

And compounded by standards that they themselves haven't even yet discovered.

As long as they are more enjoyable.

Why not set it up like this folks?

If we're going to be designing a set up?

And if our most honest reality is that we create what we believe? (The belief in scarcity having delivered across the board despite the absolute, luxurious and limitless bounty of the imaginary, energetic and material universe. The invisible "trick" that belief is always creating belief no mater what the subject).

Worse things could happen!

Why not just guarantee enlightenment, salvation, prosperity, enjoyment and contentment—whatever people want?

Make that the absolute lowest rung on the ladder?

Our intractable universal birthright.

As long as we're the only material representatives of the unified and quantum (energetic) fields here.

[Looks around.]

As long as we're the ones running the show.

I say do it.

(And, by the way, that's what the first shall be last means, in my opinion—that the part of us that believes itself ahead will actually be behind (or farther away) in terms of the enjoyment of salvation, enlightenmens, bliss, whatever.

It can be said with certainty because it is the precisely the belief in scarcity and that competition is necessary to achieve prosperity that renders these parts unsaved/unhappy/lonely in the first place.

And, once we get material competition out of the way, the last shall be ahead of the curve as they already know somewhat how to consume, what to do with time, what they like and how they want it, etc.

It's not that they'll be done but end up ahead—for however long—once the belief structure—or more properly doubt structure—of monied parts collapses.

--Money being simply calcified and exchangeable trust.

To get semantic for a moment—it is a belief structure, it's just a belief in doubt.

There is no such thing as real doubt.

If you truly doubt doubt you believe, if you believe in doubt you believe and if you doubt belief you actually believe in the doubting of belief.

This is why love is secretly and invisibly growing perpetually and hugely, no matter what we think or how we feel.

We do believe completely and constantly and universally, it's just a matter of if we decide to enjoy that belief or not.

Free will is if we feel love or not, not if it is or if it grows.)

Bunk Business Writing

I'm starting to see a bunch of whack business books as management tries to convince itself that sanity can be achieved only through a more thorough insanity.

The Long Tail is one—it insists that the way to make money is to sell more, older products. Making less on each one.

Sounds like hell to me.

And even the title makes it sound like ass.

Or a shitty idea.

That's like marrying for ass, instead of a face, brains, humor or the whole package. (Hey, he named it The Long Tail, not me).

He should have at least named it The Great Tail, then I could have associated it with Vida Guerra, but now I'm stuck with some crazy kind of droopy visual.

Or bestiality.

The answer, of course, is to allow the market to create more adn more beautiful face.

Or shit, I'd just admit what I want—the whole damn package.

Beautiful face, great body, caring hands, warm smile, luscious hair, fit, healthy, shining personality, relaxed demeanor, poise up one side and down the other, a calm autonomy, can fuck like a wild animal, turns elegant soirees on their ear.

Can bust a move in high heels, flip your lid wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Great style.

Likes to walk around the house naked, likes intimacy several times a day, is happy not working, has a taste for the finer things in life, has things she wants to do, comfortable alone, supportive, proportionate—and all those other things I've been thinking about for my entire life.

With some extras thrown in just to sweeten the pot and keep me growing.

Maybe it's not even one woman?

Who knows what the truth is? Or how good it can get once we admit our identical thirsts?

I'm not going to put a cap on it, let's put it that way.

Let's just shorten it to bangin!

Every day and in every way, of course.

Y'all are going to have to pull me kicking and screaming into social convention on that one.

That is, if you can starve me out (and it doesn't look like you can at this point—your financial and energetic dominance being on the wane along with your belief, mine waxing like that ass).

Which means, of course, selling fewer, higher quality items.

In which case, you better be in the content biz.

And you better not be charging current market rates.

Think premium folks.


The other guy wrote Cult of the Amateur. About how the internet is killing our precious culture.

God bless the internet—and ain't nothing been killed that wasn't dying already.

What do you miss—The Brady Bunch?

Joker's Wild?

Oh, you think the Bird and Dizzy were products of mass culture? And Hemingway and Brando?

They weren't—all the mass mediums had a golden age shortly after they became widely accepted as art.

All pioneered by dedicated individuals who took on the proverbial suits (who themeselves made their living mediating the value that the last pioneers gave their lives to create).

Call it the Tour de France effect.

When the Tour started, the miners who were the first racers lined up like they were offering a Tahitian holiday.

Cause for them riding a fucking bike around France and fucking pretty girls and drinking wine every night was like winning the lottery and going to heaven on the same day.

They could have charged them to ride for the first 20 years.

And they would have worked the rest of the year in the mines to pay for it—they had to fucking anyway.

Same with making records, movies, acting, putting out magazines, skateboarding, snowboarding, surfing, even being a lawyer or a doctor.

Hell, even—and maybe even most relevantly—being a New Age snake oil merchant.

They were all so, so, so appealing compared to the alternatives—selling insurance, riviting beams, grinding parts, digging ditches, cleaning up after old people.

Or, even, sitting around starving and not getting laid because of your broke ass.

No wonder they had to beat young sax players off with a stick.

And guitarists started with cigar boxes.

They still do it in Hollywood—the only one that makes any real money (though the money comes from product tie-ins. Movies are essentially the best advertising ever made. Or are commercially un-sustainable).

The book industry, music industry and the rest of em are populated mostly by refuseniks who hate themselves and their participation in commerce.

How declasse the crowd chants. He had to enter a recording studio and try my best.

How judgemental, the posters screamed.

(Can you tell I've been reading my Wodehouse?)

If you see him, tell this dork that the only thing that's kept any sort of culture going for the last 100 years ARE the fucking amateurs.

And that if professional standards and the application of reason were any sort of benchmark for reward, he'd be mopping toilets.

(Then ask him if, knowing he would be swabbing toilets for five years regardless, if he would have thought for one second about writing a book bashing the bloggers he claims aren't worth even paying attention to in the first place. Dude!?)

Since when did writing a business book erase common sense?

Everyone from Charlie Christian to Sid Vicious to Tom Wolfe—everyone who changed teh game was a young turk. A freaking punk.

An asshole.

And accredited institutions—the pros—haven't done shit since Rococo.

It still makes me wince—and no wave of nostalgia has ever even touched it!

It was garbage.

I guess critics need someone to blame.

Since they aren't going to actually get off their asses and create anything of value.