— Nothing Comes Close — Let Me Show You

The biggest problem is that I don’t have room to tell you the half of it. But in this final installment of my technically failed 30-post marathon, the 2/3rds I did get done is pretty damn good, and so I just take more steps forward.

I’ve smashed all records for new memberships.

There’s still time. As I sit here, rushing to get this out, there’s 3 1/2 hours left on the deal. What did I sell the most of? Lifetimes.

Seven people plopped down $350 each yesterday alone. They did so as the vast majority wring hands over popping for the equivalent of a Starbucks coffee once per month…the same sorts of people forever in search of Holy Grails where the magic is easy and automatic.

What do I need to eat to lose weight?

Now, extrapolate the mindset inherent and implicit in that fucktarded question to every struggle in your life.

Are you saying, ‘goddammit I’m a complete fuckup, I’m wrong all the time, I don’t need to be, so I’m going to fucking fix it by always picking the hard thing’?

One simple fucking thing and everything starts becoming easier: always choose the hard thing.

It’s like the gym. Yesterday for chest day, the incline bench was occupied, so I did my 4 exercises in reverse of normal. I’m at 25 Kilogram (55 pounds) dumbbells for flat bench chest press. 4 sets x 8 reps. Last week, I completed all sets/reps. This week, because it wasn’t the 2nd in line but the 4th, I barely got through 8 reps at 25, went to 22.5 (49.5#) for set number 2, only got in 5 reps, so at 20 (44#), I was able to get sets 3 and 4 in at 8 reps each.

The point? A mere month ago I was fuck-it! choosing the hard thing by going from 12.5 to 15 Kg (27.5 to 33). Now that weight is like feathers.

The lesson?

Wanna make something that’s fucking hard, easy? Choose to do it anyway, and don’t stop there. Keep choosing the hard thing. Go hard and go early.

And each successive milestone has you looking back in wonderment that so many preceding stones were TOO HARD!!!

But you have made them easy, and now you laugh at yourself.

There’s nothing special or unique about what I just told you. You could find that all over the Internet, and there are a lot of great guys out there—probably great gals, too—telling you that the path forward is to pick the hard thing. That’s because everything, including marketing and everybody peddling products and services, they’re all fucking lying to you. They imply and insinuate how easy it’s going to be. Just pay them, and it’s going to be easy. Look at it, it’s 10 steps; just follow these 10 steps, and it’s done. You’re a millionaire; you have a harem of chicks—whatever it is you’re searching for.

The problem is that you’re looking for how to get those things the easy way. “Oh, I’ve got money here. I’ll just give you money now. Give me all the stuff that I need. I want it, I need it. Here’s the money.” But it’s the exact opposite of what you should be doing.

I’m fucked up, and you’re fucked up. Let’s do something about that. You want to know how fucked up I was? Look at this.

That was 5-6 years ago—a mountain recluse going through a divorce, drinking a 5th of whiskey a day, starting dumpster fires around the clock, and just being a weak and pathetic ass, in general.

My saving grace is having been on top of the world before. It kept me from falling off any cliffs and I sustained this blog reasonably well. I can put on a bright and cheery face good as the next guy.

The juxtaposition.

And this is how I rang in the New Year from my posh 15th Floor abode.

Is that all?

That was my newest threesome gig who showed up about an hour into 2024. How? One of the partners in the original one told them…and I get a message out of the blue, “‘Jane’ told us…we like same thing.” The one with the dark, brooding eyes from Buriram is the primary in this one.

(I can’t share the photos and videos she sent to entice me. This is a family blog. Use your imagination instead.)

Now is that all?

No, and this one’s upping the ante and blowing your mind. They left about 02.45 and I sat down to start calculating up all the new memberships that had come in since the post yesterday blowing your mind about AI (and directly resulted in those 7 new Lifetime memberships and others).

Not 5 minutes later, ring ring.

Beatrice. Ex-wife. Good friend.

We hadn’t spoken in a while, so there were things to catch up on. One of the great amusements to us both, I suppose, is that the haters on the blog naturally adored Beatrice. They don’t know her; they have no idea who she is. They hate me, and so, obviously, because our marriage ended, I was just the worst scoundrel on earth, etc., etc., etc., yada yada yada. Nothing could be further from the truth. We’re good friends.

One of the first things she always asks is how goes with all the girls. She knows everything. I’m transparent; she follows along on this blog. She’s a lifetime member, too, and it just makes her laugh. But she’s happy for me. I’m happy for her. She’s got a cool house she bought; she’s fixing it up. She has a guy she’s been with for a while who’s solid and is doing a lot of the fix-up on the house, and she spends tons of time with her parents and her family. That was basically why our relationship ended.

After 35 years as a schoolteacher, she’s now enjoying her retirement, which is a good one. She had what she wanted to do in life, and I can’t fault her. She wanted to spend a lot of it with her family, particularly her parents, and that just wasn’t going to be my thing. I knew I’d be miserable. I adore her family and her parents to this day, so that wasn’t the issue.

She did ask me some questions about our previous relationship, and we discussed it frankly. The bottom line is, nothing was her fault, and to a large extent, not mine either. So much of it was just that I didn’t realize the extent to which this kind of lifestyle I lead now was firmly implanted in my bones from the age of 22 to 30, right here in the same region, Southeast Asia. And you can’t shake it. You can try; you can’t go back. I went back to the states and did everything I’m supposed to do. You know, build a business, run a business, find a good woman, get married, do all the things you’re supposed to do there. And there’s nothing wrong with any of it. Nothing wrong whatsoever; it’s great.

I was doing the sorts of things largely that people seem to want to do, or they think they’re supposed to do, or whatever. But it was not a super happiness life for me because, like I said, the experiences. Also, not having children…I did not have that as any imperative to just suck it up.

Here I am, and Beatrice fully understands. So, for the haters out there, go fuck yourselves. Who gives a fuck, really? What you’re doing is—and everyone who looks at what I do now and who doesn’t think that I’ve made great progress in the last six years—they would judge and call names to signal the opposite. And you know how I look at it? That’s their cry for help because their lives suck, and they fucking hate it that mine doesn’t.

They fucking hate that I didn’t utterly crash and burn. It chafes that not have I turned it around, but I’m exceeding even optimistic expectations.

Go fuck yourselves.

… So, 2023 is in the can, and we embark on 2024. Last year on this blog, we saw a lot of firsts and a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff to get it prepared for a marketing push. But that in itself is problematic, and it goes to the title of this post.

I’ve talked to marketers; everybody’s initially enthusiastic, and then they look at the blog. I can’t fault them or blame them, but it’s not the kind of stuff they sell. They sell formulas. I’m as far from a formula as you can possibly get. I’ve already talked about it here: “Here’s your 10 steps, give me money, it’s easy.” That’s all bullshit, but that’s where the money is because people are lazy, dishonest, and fucking stupid. They don’t want to put in the work, so they won’t drop the equivalent of a Starbucks once a month to figure out, “What’s up with this guy? Who is this? What the fuck?” But they’ll spend 1000 times more than that for some formula that some guy—who happened to get lucky or did really good work, there’s both—throws together, puts all the right marketing spin on it, and then leads targeting and funnel optimization and everything else. And what they get in the end is exactly the kind of people I really don’t want as members because they won’t stick around.

I mean, I’m happy to have them around. Some people get it eventually, but I think I have things geared here to where there’s kind of almost like a barrier to entry. You have to really be wanting something; you really have to be willing to learn; you really have to be willing to tell yourself that you’re full of shit and all fucked up and that you want to do better. You have to be smart. I don’t write at a 10th grade, 5th grade, or whatever eighth-grade level. Some stuff is, but some stuff you need a 110 IQ to access it. It just doesn’t make sense to you. I’ve tested this over and over, but of course, below about 95 to 100 IQ, they’re at a level of intelligence where it’s very difficult for them to understand that they’re fucking stupid.

I don’t believe that IQ is a life sentence. I think people can make great strides to improve their intelligence over time, but the first thing that you have to do is to understand that you have a massive amount to learn. So that you get to the point where you learn so much, you get to the point where you understand that you’re a fucking idiot and don’t really know anything for sure. People with a 95 IQ stroll about every day, and they turn on Fox News, and Fox News tells them they’re right—or they turn on CNN, and it tells them they’re right, or they turn on MSNBC, and it tells them they’re right, or they listen to CNBC or all the others. But the only guys who’re humble out there—there’s a few of them—there’s Tucker Carlson. He’s kind of a humble guy out there. He’s self-questioning all the time; he questions everything. Yeah, Russell Brand, he’s pretty good, although I can’t stand his front-end marketing; everything is ‘exclaimed face’ crisis bullshit. A few others, I don’t need to name them all, but you tend to find the really good stuff in the independents. All the networks—all of them, no exceptions—are a fucking sewer.

Let me ask you a fucking question about that shithouse, Fox News: What would happen to their corporate profits if anything that they yammer on and on and on about every day about problems ever got measurably fixed? Their bottom line is the socio-political antagonism, and that’s the sum total of it. They’re fucking evil. Listen: fucking evil.

So, my problem is that I give you the straight dope here, unvarnished. It is what it is. It doesn’t fit any formula, doesn’t fit on any shelf—it’s my life, it’s not yours. And you should understand that in no way am I telling you that the secret to happiness is to, you know, move to Thailand and start banging young chicks, or any of the other things you can do here. But no matter where you are, you always want to be better off—that’s human nature.

And so, what I would say is that don’t look at the things that I do specifically. You might ask yourself, “How does one thing connect with the other? What is the course of life over time?” And there are a few elements, and they’re hard to overcome because everybody wants you to live for their sake and not your own. Rarely is anyone who is critiquing you concerned about you; they’re either projecting their own hangups and shortcomings or they’re envious and jealous—one of the two.

Always remember that you’re probably better off than you would think you are if you did an honest assessment. But in doing an honest assessment, the first thing you have to do is exclude all the bullshit expectations from everyone else, everyone else, including your own spouse, including your children, including your mother and your father, including your siblings, including your community, including your church, including your imaginary friend in the sky who supposedly cares about you and cares about you on a very personal level just like he cares about the other 7,999,999,999 people on the planet. Get a clue. You gotta think for yourself. You gotta critique yourself. You gotta forget what everybody else is saying. You gotta fucking do the hard thing.

It starts with getting out of bed, cleaning up your room, doing the fucking dishes. Start the day off doing all the hard shit. Overcome that initial laziness, dishonesty, lying to yourself, and excuse-making.

There is redemption and where it’s not altogether called for, there’s still room for ocean-tanker levels of improvement.

… And I’m living fucking proof.

You have less than 2 hours to snag a deal of a lifetime, and I promise you that.

>>> Get A Life <<<