he has now is pretty rank.
Memo to self: Stop by the bank this afternoon and see if that million’s been added to my account yet.
Some people might ask, “Exactly what’s the difference between ‘wishing’ and ‘daydreaming’ and The Secret ?” I would answer them by saying, “You are bringing me down, man. You’re full of negative thoughts and I hope you die in a fiery car crash. But in a positive way. You don’t think they’d let Oprah put this on TV if it was just a bunch of hooey, do you?”
When I think of all the years I’ve wasted thinking that my lack of education and my police record were holding me back, I could just spit. Whoops! A negative thought. It’s that kind of thinking that will lose me my million dollars. Whoops! That was another negative thought.
The bank just called. I’m overdrawn, again! By three dollars. Because my copy of The Secret cost thirteen dollars plus tax. That’s when total and complete enlightenment hit me. It’s not knowing “the secret” that makes anyone a millionaire, it’s writing things like The Secret that makes them millionaires. By the way, have you heard about the key? No? It can unlock your potential and change your life. Look for my new book The Key coming to a bookstore near you, soon. Don’t keep it a secret.
Naked Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner
I saw the first sign of summer today: a bare-chested, overweight man on a riding mower. We averted our eyes and kept driving and just when we thought we were safe, we saw another one. You don’t see this much skin in a Calvin Klein ad. I wanted to roll down the car window and yell “For God’s sake, man, think of the children!” but Sue locks the windows when I’m in the car with her. According to her, yelling out the car window at strangers is “antisocial behavior.”
Antisocial? I’m trying to help the poor guy. Maybe if he put on a shirt and bought a push mower he’d drop a few pounds and have six-pack abs by the end of the summer. It’s one thing for Matthew McConaughey to run around half-naked, it’s another for an Orson Welles impersonator. This is just a guess, but I would say the ratio of shirtless, well-proportioned men using riding mowers to big jelly-bellied men is roughly, oh, one to 99. Now, I don’t have a perfect body and I’m not trying to promote silly, unhealthy, unattainable, perfect bodies. All I’m trying to promote is wearing a shirt while you mow the lawn. Is that too much to ask?
It is perfectly natural for men, especially older, bald men who don’t eat right, don’t exercise and don’t wax their backs to have love handles and sagging pecs. That doesn’t mean I want to see them while they mow the lawn. When did suburbia become a half-nudist camp? Did I miss the “we don’t have to wear shirts anymore” memo? Was I out of town the day we voted to start doing yard work naked? And what is the point of having a beautiful lawn if you’re going to spoil it by being on it? Let me put it this way: would you put a statue of yourself mowing the lawn with your shirt off on your front lawn? Unless the answer is yes, keep your shirt on.
Why is it that the people with the worst bodies wear the most revealing clothes? Every New Year’s Day when the local Polar Bear Club goes for their annual dive in the ice-cold water it’s always the biggest, most out-of-shape polar bear who is wearing the tiniest Speedo. At the ball game, the guys who take off their shirts and paint their bodies with team logos and slogans are never the guys with ripped, six-pack, washboard stomachs but the ones with the biggest, largest beer bellies. It looks as if a giant orange Jell-O mold has escaped and will soon start crushing innocent bystanders. Men with spindle legs insist on wearing shorts; women with Frisbee-sized bellybuttons are wearing midriff-baring fashion.
They all suffer from a disease that gets too little attention in the press—Reverse Anorexia. They think they are skinny and beautiful
Memo to self: Stop by the bank this afternoon and see if that million’s been added to my account yet.
Some people might ask, “Exactly what’s the difference between ‘wishing’ and ‘daydreaming’ and The Secret ?” I would answer them by saying, “You are bringing me down, man. You’re full of negative thoughts and I hope you die in a fiery car crash. But in a positive way. You don’t think they’d let Oprah put this on TV if it was just a bunch of hooey, do you?”
When I think of all the years I’ve wasted thinking that my lack of education and my police record were holding me back, I could just spit. Whoops! A negative thought. It’s that kind of thinking that will lose me my million dollars. Whoops! That was another negative thought.
The bank just called. I’m overdrawn, again! By three dollars. Because my copy of The Secret cost thirteen dollars plus tax. That’s when total and complete enlightenment hit me. It’s not knowing “the secret” that makes anyone a millionaire, it’s writing things like The Secret that makes them millionaires. By the way, have you heard about the key? No? It can unlock your potential and change your life. Look for my new book The Key coming to a bookstore near you, soon. Don’t keep it a secret.
Naked Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner
I saw the first sign of summer today: a bare-chested, overweight man on a riding mower. We averted our eyes and kept driving and just when we thought we were safe, we saw another one. You don’t see this much skin in a Calvin Klein ad. I wanted to roll down the car window and yell “For God’s sake, man, think of the children!” but Sue locks the windows when I’m in the car with her. According to her, yelling out the car window at strangers is “antisocial behavior.”
Antisocial? I’m trying to help the poor guy. Maybe if he put on a shirt and bought a push mower he’d drop a few pounds and have six-pack abs by the end of the summer. It’s one thing for Matthew McConaughey to run around half-naked, it’s another for an Orson Welles impersonator. This is just a guess, but I would say the ratio of shirtless, well-proportioned men using riding mowers to big jelly-bellied men is roughly, oh, one to 99. Now, I don’t have a perfect body and I’m not trying to promote silly, unhealthy, unattainable, perfect bodies. All I’m trying to promote is wearing a shirt while you mow the lawn. Is that too much to ask?
It is perfectly natural for men, especially older, bald men who don’t eat right, don’t exercise and don’t wax their backs to have love handles and sagging pecs. That doesn’t mean I want to see them while they mow the lawn. When did suburbia become a half-nudist camp? Did I miss the “we don’t have to wear shirts anymore” memo? Was I out of town the day we voted to start doing yard work naked? And what is the point of having a beautiful lawn if you’re going to spoil it by being on it? Let me put it this way: would you put a statue of yourself mowing the lawn with your shirt off on your front lawn? Unless the answer is yes, keep your shirt on.
Why is it that the people with the worst bodies wear the most revealing clothes? Every New Year’s Day when the local Polar Bear Club goes for their annual dive in the ice-cold water it’s always the biggest, most out-of-shape polar bear who is wearing the tiniest Speedo. At the ball game, the guys who take off their shirts and paint their bodies with team logos and slogans are never the guys with ripped, six-pack, washboard stomachs but the ones with the biggest, largest beer bellies. It looks as if a giant orange Jell-O mold has escaped and will soon start crushing innocent bystanders. Men with spindle legs insist on wearing shorts; women with Frisbee-sized bellybuttons are wearing midriff-baring fashion.
They all suffer from a disease that gets too little attention in the press—Reverse Anorexia. They think they are skinny and beautiful
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