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Today In News Radio
Homeless mothers in San Francisco beseeched their leaders to do more for The City’s homeless population. It was a short news story, because few people really give a shit. Over time, San Francisco desensitizes one to poverty and inequality. Homelessness becomes normalized.
Elsewhere, a local group of grown men – skilled athletes and well to do – is playing a child’s game against adversaries 1,000 miles away. Whoever runs in more counterclockwise circles wins. Many folks are greatly concerned about the outcome of this contest, and the winning team is more likely to get to third base with their old ladies back home.
The big news story of today is that Prince Humperdink, from that small island queendom north of Gaul upon which the sun purportedly never sets, is on paternity leave. From what exactly, we do not know. Over one million people weighed in on Instagram upon learning the newborn’s name is Archie Harrison. They feel this is important, thus making it so.
The voice of homeless mothers is conspicuously absent from the dialogue over little Archie, his fertile mother, and his father’s paternity leave.
In the midst of the news broadcast, advertisers bombarded listeners with enticements to spend money they do not have on goods and services they do not need, so as to fulfill their prescribed roles in society, gain esteem from their peers, upgrade their vehicles and overcome erectile disfunction.
In other news:
Numerous vehicles have collided with each other throughout the metropolitan region, and most major thoroughfares are heavily congested with commuters going to jobs they wish they did not have, in order to drive quarterly profits and cars they heard about on the radio.
The weather-bot says it will probably be sunny or cloudy, and may or may not rain.
In the long-term forecast, climate scientists are warning us that we have ten years until the point of no return. Few people really give a shit, but for those who burn a few gallons of gasoline driving to the climate rallies – in cars they heard about on the radio.
Downtown, an investigative journalist discovered a corrupt public servant, then promptly saw her car towed.
Overseas, some folks killed some other folks today, feeling perfectly justified in doing so.
And quarterly profits . . . are up.
Happiness Is NOT An Inside Job
A dangerous modern myth in today’s world is that “Happiness is an inside job”.
Discovering Your Life’s Purpose May Be Easier Than You Think
Do you ever wonder why the hell you are here on Planet Earth?
Some folks seem to have a unique and well defined Life Purpose. Some folks say that we all have the same Life Purpose. Other folks are living their Life Purpose without even knowing it. Yet others say that life has no purpose, or that you can choose your own.
Let us explore a variety of approaches that you can take to discover your Life Purpose.
Continue reading “Discovering Your Life’s Purpose May Be Easier Than You Think”
What People Are Saying
“This book is a must-read for anyone who is interested in being fully alive.” – Roger
“Your book got me laid!” – Thomas
“Reading this book together has improved our relationship.” – Jeff
“Your humor and insight is a healing balm. When I pick up your book and read a few chapters, it really helps bring me back into my own light.” – Sherri
“Timely, entertaining, thoughtful and very practical. Your book validates what I already think and feel. I know these things, and now I have a demarcation. It is liberation.” – Barry
Today Was A Good Day
Today, I parked my truck on the street, next to a woman who was slumped into a chair on the sidewalk. She wore a vacant stare as she mumbled to herself of death and filled a syringe from a vial. I did not stop to ask if it was heroine or insulin.
Next to us, a few folks were completely engrossed in demonstrating to each other and the world their street-smart hoodlum personas.
The air was filled with the aromas of fried food and urine.
I watched a man discover an abandoned beverage, inspect it, then consume it.
As I began to walk, I watched an old man dig through garbage cans in search of California Redemption Value (cans and bottles to be recycled in exchange for pennies), with such grace and dignity.
The cops were eating donuts.
A street car rang its bell, so I stopped and waved to the passengers. One man saw me, and waved back with a smile. I smiled in return and signaled “Hang Loose.” “Hello, I Love You, Goodbye” was implied. The streets were full of people hustling and bustling. No one noticed each other, except he and I.
Then I stopped to purchase myself a cup of hot coffee and a bar of dark chocolate, because I could. They were delicious. Next, I passed the Hilton, where hotel rooms are only $200 a night. The valets were busy.
Eventually I reached my destination – a fashion boutique, where handbags for cosmetics retail for $295.
It was a celebration. We drank cheap sparkling wine, the kind that gives you a headache before it gives you a buzz. We called it Champagne, and pretended we were classy. There were dozens of women there. I could not tell if they were beautiful, or plain or ugly, because I could not see their faces, beneath the layers of paint they wore. One woman was very friendly to me. I liked her too. We conversed, but I could not figure out how to convert this interaction into intimate engagement, so the moment passed. I caught a married woman checking me out. She was embarrassed, I was flattered. She wore a large diamond ring, as did many of the others. I imagine that the value of the jewelry worn by the patrons of that fashion boutique could have fed an African village for a year. And I can only imagine the African children who lost a hand, a limb, an eye, an ear, or their lives, so that these women could wear their diamonds. I considered buying an elegant keychain with leather tassels for a friend of mine, but it was 55 dollars. Hell, I could go back to my truck and get a blow job for 55 bucks.
As the party ended, I encountered the night watchman. His name was Tony. I asked about the bracelet that he wore. He was an old Chinese Buddhist. We shook hands and smiled. Gazing into each other’s gleaming eyes, we needed not speak of our mutual understanding, that the ultimate truth is one of awareness and compassion. Then I returned to the streets, where the rich and pretty people carried shopping bags full of newly purchased goods, and did their best not to notice the disenfranchised, dining on the waste of others, and urinating in the streets. As I drove away, I was cut off by a man who urgently needed to arrive at the next traffic stop, one car’s length ahead of me.
Driving home, I began to cry. For all the children who lost a body part or their lives as “collateral damage” in the diamond trade. I cried for the countless victims of the oil wars, as I burned six gallons of gasoline, so that I can afford to drink coffee and eat chocolate, and live this life of luxurious slavery. I cried for the people who have gone mad, because of the hardship in their lives. I cried for the discarded old men, finding redemption in the garbage, while bearing grace and dignity. I cried for the people who hide their true selves from the world, behind contrived behaviors and appearances – for I too have played that game.
Now my stomach aches. Is it the coffee and chocolate? Is it the stressors in my own life? Is it the sadness of the seemingly rotten core of our “civilized” society, which appears to be anything but civilized?
Nonetheless, all things considered, today was a good day. We made a handsome profit selling cheap champagne. Everyone who mattered was happy.
March 9, 2017