Our cups should runneth over

Wallace Wattles says that for our world to move forward mankind must grow and expand.

“No society could advance if every man is smaller than his place.”

We must grow or die. Wattles points to the animal kingdom where “evolution is caused by excess of life”

We are made to grow, expand and thrive. It’s what we are here for, to more than fill our place. Our cups need to runneth over. There are examples in the animal kingdom as animals eat to get larger, mate to enlarge their tribe and conquer to expand their territory.

Our biggest advantage over the animals isn’t by being at the top of the food chain or our abilities to open Waffle Houses. Our advantage is our ability to create with our minds. Fortunately we don’t have to compete to expand and fill our cups. We can create things to overflow our cups. And then we can create bigger cups to overflow even more. The human mind is a remarkable tool, calling on what Wattle calls the “Formless Substance”to create in the animate world what is only now in the inanimate one.

We don’t have to compete to take and conquer. There is plenty for everybody in the Formless Substance. Our finest attribute is to create and grow.

May your cup runneth over this year and beyond.


This World is a Perfect Mess

The world is going to hell in a hand basket. Unless it isn’t.

Wallace Wattles in one of his books suggest that we get rid of labeling things as good or bad or corrupt or whatever. Things are things. I believe it was Shakespeare who also said, there is neither good or bad, man’s thinking makes it so. Wallace said everything is perfect but incomplete.

I like to think of it like a cake. If you were to stop and look at the batter before you put it in the oven and compare that gooey mess to your perception of delicious cake you’ve had before, you might think that the batter is “bad” somehow. But it’s not bad at all. It’s perfect just the way it is … it’s just incomplete. It hasn’t had 40-45 minutes at 350 to find perfection. We have to give all things time to come to completion. Honestly, we will probably never see completion. But we can see perfection even today.
I know it’s hard.

Sometimes I happen to look at the news and think, “what is the world coming to,” implying, of course, that the world is getting worse and heading for complete destruction or annihilation. But what if we aren’t. What if instead we are heading for completion. And we are perfect just the way we are.

There are times when I doubt, but that’s just my perception. I have been conditioned because of my past to see things in a certain way, it’s the “good ol day” syndrome at its finest. We all want things to stay the same. It’s called homeostasis. Things need to stay consistent for our survival. And while that may work for our bodies, it’s not good for our mindset all the time. We need to see change not as a bad thing but the rising of the batter into completion.

What if we forget about our conditioning — our pasts — for a minute or better yet, what if we replaced our conditioning for a new one, we might see that this world is indeed perfect and getting better — not was, but is — all the time. These are the good ol’ days. And tomorrow will be even better and the day after that … you get the picture.

When The Character Takes Over

She turned the lights down and lit a few candles. Carlos stepped behind her and grabbed her around the waist. He kissed her neck a few times and she succumbed to his caress. They both slipped out of their shirts and pants while the heavy petting continued. Eleanor pulled the covers back as Carlos slipped down her shockingly red panties.

“I want to kiss you all over and make sweet love to you,” Carlos said.

Eleanor cooed.

“You’re making me so hot right now,” he said. “I just want to … you know what I can’t do this.”

Uh … Carlos stopped and looked up into this sky … “Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?” Eleanor asked quietly.

“No,” he said, “I’m talking to you. I see what you are doing and I’m done.”

He was talking to nobody in particular when …

“No, I’m talking to you,” he said and pointed at the writer of the story. “That’s right. You.”

“Me,” I said.

“Oh sweet Jesus god! Can we just drop it,” he said. “Yes, you. I’m talking to you, Mr. Writer Man.”

“But you’re a character in my story,” I said. “I don’t think it’s proper to talk to me as I’m writing the story.”

Carlos pulled his shirt back on.

“Would you just stop with the story for a minute,” Carlos said. “I’m done with this porn stuff.”

“It’s not porn,” I said. “Technically it’s erotica.”

“Whatever you call it. I don’t want to do it anymore. Can’t you like put me in a western or a sci-fi out there exploring alien nations or something.”


“Great. Well do that then.”

Carlos slipped his shirt off and kissed the green scaly neck of Commander Grickox from the planet Nereb. She cooed and wrapped two of her six arms around …

“No,” Carlos said. “You’re doing it again. It’s still porn, just alien porn.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No shit,” Carlos said. “And by the way, my name is Wayne, not Carlos.”

“But Wayne isn’t exactly a sexy name,” I said.

“That’s okay. My name is Wayne. And has a Wayne I want to do something fun and adventurous and not just wrap my arms around waists and kiss slowly and rubbing my “throbbing member on OR in anything. Got it. ”

“My god, Wayne, when you say it like that,” I said.

“Look, Mr. Writer Man, can I call you that?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I know you’re new to this whole writing thing — ”

“Actually I’ve been writing for quite a while,” I interjected.

“Please don’t interrupt me,” he said.

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I’m tired of just being a piece of meat. I want to live. I want to discover. I want to expand my mind. Porn is just not doing it anymore. I don’t want to be Carlos. I want to be me: Wayne.”

“I’ll admit that this is my first time to write erotica. I’ve never even read it really. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I could start with a scene at the restaurant first then you guys could do—“

“You are not listening, Mr. Writer Man. I don’t want porn or erotica or chick-lit or whatever the hell you want to call this.”

“Okay, I get it,” I said. “I’ll work on something else with a little less sex. Maybe we could make you a Baptist preacher or something.”

“Look I want adventure,” he said. “ I don’t want to be dead inside. Just write me in something fun. In the meantime, I’ll be in my trailer.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll get right on it. It’s just that you don’t have a trailer. You aren’t even really real … oh never mind.”

Somewhere on the planet Nereb, Wayne was paying his tab …


Who is He Talking to?

What is that freakin noise? Somebody is having a very loud conversation. Well not loud in a acceptable-level-on-public-transportation level, but this conversation is much too loud for a bookstore. I’m over here trying to read this book for free and … oh for god’s sake where is that coming from?

Is it that guy?

Over there. Slumped in a chair. My god who is he talking to?
I don’t see anyone else. Does he have a Bluetooth in? Is he making a phone call?
I’m trying to read here, can’t he see that I’m trying to read.

Oh my God.

Now he’s tapping on his ample gut too. Talking to himself and tapping his guy.
Which paragraph was I on? Now, I’m lost. What did I just read? Now I’m gonna have to start this whole chapter over.

“It’s like saying, ‘Yeah, it’s only 30 bucks,’” he said. At least I think that’s what he said. What is going on? “It’s like saying, ‘Yeah, it’s only 30 bucks.’”

He said it again. He keeps saying it over and over.

What? What is only 30 bucks? Who is saying that? What are you talking about?
I’m trying to read here.

“The world is full of people who look like rodents,” he said.

What? Is that what he said? I think that’s what he said. What? Who looks like rodents? Who thinks people look like rodents?

He keeps …

Where is he going? He’s gone. Thank god.

Now back to my book.


Now where was I? Oh yes …

What causes someone to talk to himself like that? In public. Is he off his meds? Is he suffering from Tourettes?What causes that?

It doesn’t matter, he’s gone. Thank you. Where was I?

Oh yes …

What in the Sam Hill? He’s back. Oh my god you have to be kidding me. Oh yeah, go ahead and slam down in that chair like that. Make even more noise.


Mumbling? He’s going to mumble now? Now he’s mumbling?
What’s he saying now? My god, I can’t hear him. What’s that?

Is he laughing now? He’s telling jokes to himself? And cracking himself up? He’s got jokes?

Who is this guy talking to? I don’t see anyone else. What a distraction.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut UP!

I can’t hear myself think. It’s almost as though I have as much going on in my head as he has falling out of his mouth.

My god what is wrong with me?

Am I off my meds?

Where was I …

Oh yeah …

The Future of Newspaper and the Search for Diabetic Socks

After working in the newspaper biz for almost two decades and loving them long before that, I marvel at the current state of affairs for the industry. I read today that CNN is now going to start charging for some of their content. Most of it will be free it sounds like, but some of it you will have to pony up a few bucks a month to read.

I get it. Newspapers need to make money. But what I don’t get is why they don’t seem to take advantage of all the technology that is available today.

Let’s look at the newspaper’s step-brother, Facebook. Facebook doesn’t produce anything really. They have a website and server rooms the size of small countries I’m sure. I realize that Facebook is a great place for old people and Russians to come together to talk about all kinds of things like how much Jesus loves the flag and Trump and deep philosophical issues like these recent Facebook posts:

“Another bad day … Sigh” from Facebook user PositiveKaren

“Karma is a bitch” from Facebook user SeymourButts

“To all my haterz” from Facebook user EmersonBiggins

Lots of deep stuff that we all need to see. So you can probably imagine how important Facebook is to the future of our country. The short answer is: Not much. But there they are. Raking in cash each month. If you need to keep up with a person that went to the same school you did, ten years after you graduated, and you don’t even remember their name or their older cousin who went to the same school and thinks he was in Vo-Ag classes with you, then Facebook has what you need. But ultimately, Facebook is a place for advertisers. They do a damn good job too. Their algorithms are perfect at pairing up ads for diabetic socks with people who are in need of diabetic socks.

Thank god.

But it seems like their used to be another medium that placed diabetic socks in the hands (or on the feet) of people in search of diabetic socks. Now what was the name of that medium (strokes long beard and rubs diabetic socks) … What was that name?

Oh yeah, it was the newspaper.

Why did the newspaper business get away from that model? They always had subscribers that paid for a paper and advertisers that paid for ad space. They brought those two groups together. Basically, they collected information on their communities and readers and sold that information to advertisers. Exactly what Facebook and Google and Amazon do now. The difference is Facebook, Google and Amazon are making boatloads of cash while newspapers are struggling. With the exception of Amazon, the other main social media companies aren’t really provided any product or even a service in the old sense. It’s just a website to connect.

That’s what newspapers do. Connecting readers with the news of the day in their community and world. Why can’t the newspaper industry get on board and provide that same service and sell a product: The f*^*%ing news?

People need the news. Citizens needs to know what’s going on in their communities. What’s new. What’s old. Who is corrupting what? Newspapers do it best.

Can’t newspaper organizations just make people sign up with all their information. Then put them together with news stories and other people who are reading those stories. Maybe it’s their cousins or friends or influencers or that person that graduated from the same high school ten years after you graduated. Then they could take all that information and sell it to someone. Let’s think who could they sell it to (strokes long beard again and takes another belt of whiskey and a Twinkie) … oh yeah, now I know: ADVERTISERS.

It seems weird I know. Maybe it won’t work. But if Facebook can make more money that the country of (Note to Editor: put in a country that makes less money that Facebook), then surely newspapers who have survived since the invention of the printing press, can find a way to make it work.

I’m just over here thinking and scratching my beard and looking for socks.

Overheard in a Cab

Man and woman enter cab. The cabbie smells alcohol but it’s not overwhelming.

Cabbie: good evening. Where you guys headed?

Man: we are headed to the Methodist church.

Both man and woman laugh.

Man: we are going to church on a Thursday.

They laugh again.Harder this time. Cabbie laughs too

Cabbie: hey, you gotta go sometime.

Cabbie laughs. Alone

Woman: we are going to hear a speaker talk about Leonardo da Vinci.

Cabbie: is it really spelled like that?

Haha. This is a conversation and he can’t see how it’s spelled.

Cabbie: is the speaker Walter Issacson?

Both: yeah. It is.

Man: how did you know that?

Cabbie: I knew he had a new book on da Vinci. I read a little bit of it the other day.

Woman: what does it say? Is it good?

Cabbie: I didn’t get very far but what I read was good. I’m also listening to Issacson’s book on Ben franklin.

Woman (to man): I love to listen to books.

Cabbie: the thing I like about both Franklin and da Vinci is that neither one had any formal education. They were both pretty much self-taught.

Man: oh really?

Cabbie: Yeah. Also Leonardo had some interesting quirks. Many people think that he used to write backwards so you had to use a mirror to read it. But he wrote backwards because he was left handed and didn’t want to get the ink on his hands. Left handers were very rare in those days.

Both: wow. Interesting.

Cabbie: also if Leonardo hadn’t been a bastard child he might have followed his father into the notary business. He would have hated it and been terrible at it. And we might not have the Mona Lisa or Vitruvian Man.

Man: that’s true.

Cabbie: many people probably don’t realize that vitruvian man was probably a self-portrait.

Woman: what?

Cabbie: yep. Anyway. I don’t want to ruin it for you. He’ll probably go over all of that tonight.

Silence for 15 seconds

Cabbie: here we are.

Woman: we are already here?

Cabbie: yeah the church is right there.

Man: thanks for the ride.

Cabbie: thank you. Enjoy the program tonight.

Both: thank you. Be safe tonight.

Cabbie: you too.

Overheard outside the cab.

Man: did we just have a conversation about Leonardo da Vinci with a cab driver?

Woman: we did.

Both: wow.

Overheard back in the cab

Cabbie: did I just get to discuss a book I’ve been reading with customers? I believe I did. Wow.

You’ll never know what will happen in a cab.Don’t assume anything. Also you can check out Walter Issacson’s book on Leonardo da Vinci here

Polly want Amazon Prime

Me in my comfort zone

I read last week about parrots. You ever read about parrots? Me neither. I honestly don’t know that much about them except they show up on my favorite bottles of rum so I assume they like a good daiquiri. But I could be wrong.

The story I was reading had to do with bringing parrots into your home and whether that was a good idea or not. The gist of the story: (spoiler alert) it’s not.

I could have told them this. When I was growing up Robert Moneypenny and his family had a bird. I don’t think it was a parrot,I think it was one of those cockatoos or something. I’m basing this on my faulty memory and I don’t remember it drinking rum. What do I know? Anyway, the only thing I really remember about the bird was the awful screeching noises it made until Robert’s mom went in and covered it with a towel or sheet. For some reason that made it be quiet. It worked a lot better than screaming “Shut up!l I learned a very valuable lesson: don’t ever own a bird.

But what if a person does want a bird? I don’t know.

The story I read suggested it might be mean to the bird. A parrot is used to living in a huge jungle with plenty of room to fly around and basically do parrot things (which I assume involves rum). Trapping a beautiful parrot in a cage would then be cruel and unusual punishment, like bing forced to drink “virgin daiquiris.”

Makes sense I guess. Leave parrots free to do more parrot things.

But here’s another take: what if the parrot is looking for any excuse to leave that damn jungle? What is it wants to trade in that wonderful huge jungle for some privacy and television and Google’s Alexa? Maybe leaving the jungle is the best thing that ever happened to most parrots.

Let’s say that parrots can write letters and after they settle into a nice home in the suburbs, they drop a line to the family back home

It might go like this:

What up, fam?

As you may have heard I was taken from the jungle and sold to a family from Bowlegs, Oklahoma (the parrot capital of Seminole County). At first I wasn’t a fan but now I can’t believe my good fortune. I have air conditioning 24/7 and all the bird seed I can eat. If I want crackers, I say, “Hey, Alexa, Polly want a cracker” and Amazon Prime has that stuff at my door between 5 and 9:30.

Anyway, who knew that cages could be so cool and the jungle could suck so bad.

All my love,

(For some reason) Polly

I don’t know.

Sometimes we too get stuck in the “we’ve always done it this way rut.” Sometimes we may need to get out of our comfort zone and try something new and exciting. I’m not suggesting buying a bird but maybe enjoy a freshly made daiquiri every once in a while like the good lord intended. Maybe you’ll discover that you too need a change of scenery or a change of jobs or a change or the same ol’ same ol’.

Let’s jump out there together. I’ll be the one at the end of the bar with the rum drink.