has an invisible script hijacked your life? unlock your truth. unleash your dream.

Unscripted: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Entrepreneurship

life, liberty, and the pursuit of ontruh-pruh-nur-ship

M.J DeMarco

Audio by Paper2Audio.

Y unscripted™

life, liberty, and the pursuit of ontruh-pruh-nur-ship

Copyright © 2017 M.J DeMarco All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher. The only exception is a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a published review. Commercialized book summaries are expressly prohibited and unauthorized unless specifically licensed by the publisher.

The information presented herein represents the view of the author as of the date of publication. This book is presented for informational and entertainment purposes only. Due to the rate at which economic and cultural conditions change, the author reserves the right to alter and update his opinions based on new conditions. While every attempt has been made to verify the information in this book, neither the author nor his affiliates/partners assume any responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, or omissions. At no time shall the information contained herein be construed as professional, investment, tax, accounting, legal, or medical advice. This book does not constitute a recommendation or a warrant of suitability for any particular business, industry, website, security, portfolio of securities, transaction, or investment strategy.

Published By:

Viperion Publishing Corporation; Fountain Hills, Arizona

I.S.B.N: 978-0-9843581-7-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016961499

printed in the U.S.A.

Cartoon Design: David Fletcher, New Zealand

Cover: M.J DeMarco

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Unlawful use is prohibited.

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The Stories

Many of the stories and excerpts in this book are sourced from The Fastlane Forum, an entrepreneurial community I founded in 2007. Although edited for clarity, they are real stories from real people.

In the last ten years, I've had the privilege to interact with over 30,000 entrepreneurs in over 500,000 posts totaling millions of visits—from millionaires to aspiring entrepreneurs to lifelong employees taking the startup leap. The Fastlane community has been instrumental in making this book happen. But more importantly, it has given thousands of people around the world the tools and social permission to live the unscripted ^{™} dream.

the resources

The Discussion Forum:

theFastlaneForum dot com

Book Website:

getUnscripted dot com

theMillionaireFastlane dot com

Social Media:

Facebook dot com U.R.L

Facebook dot com U.R.L

Twitter dot com U.R.L Preface (Has Life Regressed?)

Table Of Contents

Part One: The Dissonance... Is Something Wrong?

CH-1: Tales from the script: A Monday Story

CH-2: Careless Whispers: Guilty Souls Have No Rhythm

CH-3: The Modern Day Matrix: The script

Part Two: The Script... Engineering Your Involuntary Slavery

CH-4: The Inauthentic Life: Trapped by Other People's Thinking

CH-5: Conventional Wisdom: The Road to a Conventional Life

CH-6: The scripted Operating System: The Web of Servitude

CH-7: The Seeders: Our Life Sucks, Yours Should Too

CH-8: Hyperreality: Your Illusionary Captors

CH-9: Temporal Prostitution: Trading Good Time for Bad

CH-10: The Life Paths: Two Doors, One Slaughterhouse, No Difference

CH-11: Distraction: The Ministry of Entertainment

CH-12: M.O.D.E.L. Citizenry: Serial #666-77-8888

Part Three: The Alternative... Living Unscripted

CH-13: The unscripted Life: "Fuck You"

CH-14: "Fuck This" before "Fuck You"

Part Four: The Escape... The Unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework

CH-15: The unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework

Beliefs, Biases, and Bullshit 3B

CH-16: Our Self-Imposed Prison: Beliefs, Biases, and Bullshit

CH-17: The Lies We Believe: The 8 Belief Scams

CH-18: The Shortcut Scam: Ordinary Doesn't Compel Extraordinary

CH-19: The Special Scam: "I'm Not Good at That"

CH-20: The Consumption Scam: How Much Time Did That Cost?

CH-21: The Money Scam: I Can Get Rich by Wanting to Get Rich

CH-22: The Poverty Scam: “I'm Poor Because You're Rich”

CH-23: The Luck Scam: You Don't Play; You Don't Win

CH-24: The Frugality Scam: Live Poor; Die Rich

CH-25: The Compound-Interest Scam: Wall-Street Ain't Makin Ya Rich

C.H-26: The Biases: Your Brain's Delusions

C.H-27: Bullshit from Bullshitters: Crutches, Clichés, and Cults

Meaning and Purpose (M.P)

C.H-28: Meaning-and-Purpose: The Unstoppable Will to Win C.H-29: Beware! The Wonder Twins of Epically Bad Life Advice

C.H-30: Ignite Your Purpose, Invigorate Your Soul

C.H-31: How to Create A Business That Changes Your Life

C.H-32: The Productocracy: How to Print Money (and Sleep Well)

C.H-33: The Commandment of Control: Own What You Build

C.H-34: The Commandment of Entry: The Difficulty is The Opportunity!

C.H-35: The Commandment of Need: How to Engineer Opportunity In Any Industry

C.H-36: The Commandment of Time: Earn More than Money, Earn Time

C.H-37: The Commandment of Scale: Win Life and Liberty, Not Dinner and a Movie

Kinetic Execution (K.E)

C.H-38: Executing Excellence: You Can't Predict the Unpredictable!

C.H-39: Kinetic Execution: Everything Significant Started Insignificantly

C.H-40: The 7 Ps of Process: Go From Idea to Productocracy

C.H-41: Make Execution Matter: 13 Best Practices

The Four Disciplines 4.D

C.H-42: The 4 Disciplines: Design, then Insure Your Future

C.H-43: Comparative Immunity: Well-Dressed Slaves are Still Slaves

C.H-44: Purposed Saving: Prepping for Lifetime Passive Income

C.H-45: Measured Elevation: Reward and Enjoy the Ride

C.H-46: Consequential-Thought: Protecting Your Kick-Ass Life

Part Five: A New Dawn... Never Work Again

C.H-47: Welcome to "Fuck You"

C.H-48: Your Last Business Ever (If You Want)

C.H-49: #unscripted

about the author

notes

Has Life Regressed Into Paying Bills and Living for a Weekend?

***** preface *****

You weren't born to slave nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday, pay bills and then die. When life's final moment arrives, what will your spirit sing? Regret and remorse? Or peace and happiness?

Take a moment and forecast your life's trajectory to your deathbed. And be honest. Will you mourn lost time and the things you didn't do? Places you didn't see? Will your life review be all work and zero legacy? If your future forecast looks bleakly uninspiring and not worthy of your family's history books, you have a chance to change it—right here and right now.

Elderly people nearing the end of their lives often wish they could take a time machine back to their youth and chat with their younger selves. Once there, they would tell their younger selves their life wisdom and regretful warnings that only decades of experience could reveal. By changing the past, they hope to change the future, which has become today. Sadly, what remains is a life haunted by the ghosts of dead dreams which have long died.

After selling my Internet company in 2007 and retiring young in my thirties as opposed to old in my sixties, I set off to tackle the “younger self” question as it pertained to life and business. If I could go back and speak to twenty-year-old me, someone who consistently struggled, what foresight would I share? What “wisdom” did I need slapped in my face? What did my failures unearth? And more importantly, how could other people benefit from this wisdom?

After three years of self-reflection, the rough draft made Moby Dick look like a novella. Yes, my many mistakes and their learnings filled page after page. But even more revealing, I ended up with a book unlike anything else available—a book completely contrary to mainstream thought. In other words, happiness wasn't found doing what conventional wisdom embraced—but doing exactly the opposite.

While there are countless books on finance, navigating life, and starting businesses, none of them told the real story. Instead, these books pushed feel-good fairy tales and Wall Street fantasies—prepackaged templates that baked-in mediocrity and forsaken dreams. Chances are you've read these books and wondered the same as I: Are there really multimillionaires living the rock-star life because they wage-slaved Monday through Friday while penny-pinching their way to a balanced portfolio of mutual funds?

Or is that C.N.B.C financial guru with the orange face and annoying voice really rich because of what she overtly preaches or what she covertly practices? And my favorite: Can I really live the dream selling Amway while alienating my friends and family in the process?

During production, publishing “experts” warned that my book would never sell. Those same experts also said I was committing the ultimate author sacrilege: I wasn't pushing readers into a "back-end sales funnel", ya know, so I could sell you a coaching seminar costing as much as a Cadillac.

Well, I didn't give a shit.

I was writing from my heart. Not for fame, fortune, or some egocentric motive that could catapult me into the privileged world of gurus and seminar hustlers.

In 2011 after a year-long editing marathon, I finally self-published The Millionaire Fastlane with limited distribution and no fanfare. And by “no fanfare,” I mean I didn't hire a P.R firm to hack the best-seller list with a phony launch scheme. I didn't benefit from any quid-pro-quo endorsements from “influencers” or “thought leaders.” I spent virtually nothing on advertising. The mainstream media ignored me. Bloggers ignored me. The “start-up” clique rolling the hallowed streets of Silicon Valley ignored me. But you know who didn't ignore me? Readers tired of average advice from average books promoting an average life.

As months passed, the book sold in steady chunks. Dozens of sales turned into hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands. Soon, sales exceeded $1 million and then $2 million. Language licensing and translations followed: Korean, Japanese, Italian, and more. My Twitter feed blew up with readers who couldn't put the book down...

Might be the best book I've ever read.

Brilliant business wisdom.

Listening to your book is blowing my mind.

And many more.

Despite what many deemed a cheesy “get rich quick” title and an ugly cover, the book hit number one on Amazon in multiple categories and on multiple occasions. While the book never hit The New York Times best-seller list, it has sold more than most of them. Mind you, the average self-published book pulls in about $900 in retail sales.

In the end, I shocked readers by “coming clean”—serving up a comprehensive road map for financial success, one based on indisputable mathematics, regardless of time, circumstance, or economics. Readers got the tough-love truth about entrepreneurship, self-made wealth, the hypocrites who preach it, and even happiness.

As Fastlane spread worldwide, readers begged: “We want another book!” Fastlane was resurrecting dreams and changing lives. While writing two books in the same genre was not my intent, I knew another book lived in me, because the greatest con of the century exposed in Fastlane was only growing stronger. And in its wake, it was destroying critical thought and personal responsibility and, ultimately, murdering dreams. While Fastlane unmasked the myths of wealth, it really hinted at something more: an esoteric reality hidden in the fabric of society; a cultural underbelly threading something insidiously deceptive—a sociological scheme sentencing your life to an existence of blind obedience, resigned mediocrity, and abandoned dreams.

You see, if you fail your dreams, it won't be because you lacked effort or enthusiasm; it will be because your life was sold into a Machiavellian system where your lifetime role was already scripted for an uninspiring performance. You've been unwittingly cast to play a rigged carnival game masquerading as life, which few win and many lose...

unscripted: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Entrepreneurship is your pen to rewrite a future that's already been written. Don't wait for life's twilight to dream about a time machine; it exists in this moment.

Your younger self is here.

Right now.

And it's excited for the opportunity—the opportunity to resurrect your dreams and change the history that awaits.

Un • script • ed (adjective)

“…Not following a prepared script”

(Merriam Webster Dictionary)

Life. Liberty. And the pursuit of entrepreneurship. It's awakening in the morning and pinching yourself black-and-blue—that O.M.G, this is my life, and it's freaking awesome. You live in your dream house, but there's no mortgage. No alarm clock, no boss, no bills. No claims on the day's time other than what you choose. It's making more money before breakfast than you made for an entire week at your last job. It's a crazy expensive car parked in your garage, a victorious symbol that your dreams no longer sleep in fantasies, but are awake with reality.

Make no mistake, this life exists.

I know, because it's been mine for nearly 20 years.

And in a few short years, it can be yours as well. That's right, you won't need 5 decades of thankless jobs, mind-numbing frugality, and patient investing with our trusted friends on Wall Street.

Unfortunately, you've been scripted to believe that such a life is out of your reach, or only possible for a certain type of person. Someone with a certain college degree, a certain amount of V.C funding, or a certain contact list of connected friends from Stanford. I'm here to tell you, that none of it's true.

While I've been entrepreneur most of my life, I'm no one special. You won't read about me over at Tech Crunch or in some Silicon Valley newsletter. While I've been an Internet entrepreneur since the old "you've got mail" A.O.L days, I've never been funded by venture capitalists, I've never had a payroll with more than 5 people on it, and I've never studied computer science at school. Despite this, I've been able to create profitable businesses that create the type of unscripted life I've described above.

We're talking about five-and six-figure monthly profits with valuations in the millions. Although I've had two successful "exits", don't let that scare you; it's just a welcome (and sometimes unexpected) side effect of the process.

Now, you probably noticed this book is long. I mean like, super long. There's a reason for this.

I'm not one of these "book a month" authors who write about a trendy marketing tactic that becomes ineffectively overused within a year.

I'm not an author who writes 200 pages of filler about one concept when only four paragraphs are enough. In other words, I didn't spend 3 years writing this book to enlarge my income streams—I wrote it to change your life. And in order to change your life, a lot needs to be said. Yes, this goes beyond starting a business and making some side cash—it's about reclaiming life-and-liberty through the pursuit of entrepreneurship.

If you don't know, let me break it to you: Slavery still exists. Except today's contemporary slavery is called the script—an implied social contract whereas a gilded cage is exchanged for voluntary indebtedness and lifelong toil, a price sacrificed by a non-redeemable fifty-years of Monday through Friday, an invisible servitude in which freedom is only promised by the arrival of life's fading twilight. unscripted is your blueprint into an awakening of abundance, freedom, and happiness; a keystone to unleashing a life few dream of.

In Part 1, I will identify the problem that has haunted you since you've been old enough to have a job. You have sensed it, felt it, and now, you fear you're living it.

In Part 2, I will expose the greatest con of the century and detail exactly how it has stolen your dreams, and if you allow it, it will steal your life. To defeat a thief, you have to understand the thief.

In Part 3, I will unveil the high-definition vision of what is possible once your mind is free from the cultural doctrines ruling the game.

■ In Part 4, the bulk of this book, I will reveal the definitive blueprint to unscripted Entrepreneurship, a detailed framework that will show you how to start a business that just doesn't keep the bill-paying treadmill circulating, it breaks it—and then it changes your life forever.

In Part 5, I will detail the greatest passive income system in existence where work becomes optional. Yup, you will learn how to never work another day in your life, where to find it, and how to get started immediately.

If you haven't read my first book, The Millionaire Fastlane, don't worry. unscripted stands alone. I wouldn't have published it if I didn't think it could change lives. Question is, will you allow it to change yours?

First, if you have a great job, a chummy relationship with your boss, and are just thrilled with your 401(k), congratulations. I give you mad props. You're winning a rigged game. You're that dude who wins the giant stuffed elephant at the traveling carnival.

How you tossed those plastic rings around the beer bottles, I'll never know. However, in light of your superpowers, this book probably isn't for you.

Second, I don't believe you can change your life by reading another “financial freedom” book that worships I.R.A's, stock-market investing, and soul-suffocating frugality. Do you really want to read another biblical-sized lecture idolizing the compound-interest fantasy? Hit Amazon and you'll find ten gazillion books on such crap. This book's title is unscripted, not “be like fucking everyone else on the planet.”

Third, unscripted is for you if your life has become hopeless and dissatisfying. It's for you if you're held hostage by a weekday and the bribery of its paycheck. If you're sick of the suck, and tired of the tiresome: the break-room gossip, the organizational politics, the managerial ass-kissing, and whatever else boils when multiple human beings are tossed in a box and tasked with corporate minutia, I have your escape.

unscripted is for you if you crave autonomy and the creative license to pursue work that matters. It's for you if you're a youngster who'd rather live richly young—travel, nice cars, free time—versus waiting to live richly old: wheelchairs, arthritis, and bridge. It's for you if you have X-ray vision and can see what your parents cannot—that life's formulaic template has become dated and flawed.

But most importantly, unscripted is for you if you've been an aspiring entrepreneur far too long, someone who can't turn a corner, turn a break, or turn a profit. Someone who might already own a business, but like a job, it steals time and just barely keeps the bills paid until next month. If you're someone who would rather hear the discomforting truths from a multimillionaire over another broke blogger peddling in fantasies and narcissistic feel-good platitudes, I have your escape.

Finally, unscripted is for you if you're willing to risk changing yourself. Everyone wants change, but few want to change their choices. This book will be tough because life is tough. Uncomfortable truths, belief challenges, and ego-shattering revelations lie ahead.

Some will assign unscripted's blunt and insulting tone to themselves and miss the point entirely. If you think I'm a rude, politically incorrect asshole, please, return to your safe space and ask for a refund. Your opinion changes nothing about my reality, but I'm hoping mine changes yours. I didn't write unscripted to coddle and protect the status quo that's been suffocating your dreams. Disruptive change doesn't come from some mental masturbation that sparks one day and flames-out the next—it comes from the depths of your heart and soul. If you're open to the red pill, I have your escape.

So, if I haven't been clear, let me be now: unscripted is not something you try, it's something you live. If you're ready for the challenge, get ready for a shit-your-pants revelation that everything you've been taught and told is bullshit. Legendary bullshit. We're talking stuff that would make Ponzi feel out-scammed and out-lied. Don't be mistaken, unscripted is not about paradigm shifts.

I hate that phrase. A paradigm shift doesn't keep a sinking Titanic afloat. The problem is the paradigm itself. The problem is that you've allowed the paradigm to set the rules, call the shots, and dictate the decisions.

The problem is, you've allowed ordinary thinking preached by ordinary people to produce exactly that—an ordinary life. The paradigm shift is realizing that the paradigm is shit.

Part One

the dissonance...

is something wrong?

Image summary: This figure is a comic strip illustration. It depicts an office worker sitting in a cubicle, looking distressed while reflecting on the high cost and time investment of his education compared to his current working environment. The scene includes signs indicating a long wait until his next vacation and a significant amount of time remaining to pay off his loans. The image conveys a sense of irony and disillusionment, suggesting that the professional reward for expensive higher education is a mundane and restrictive corporate job.

Part 1: Author's Objective: Confession

To give clarity to the subtle whispers that have canvassed your life in pursuit of a confession: “something” in your life does not feel right.

Chapter 1 Tales from the Script: A Monday Story

Image summary: This figure is a pictographic icon. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding a small flag in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The imagery suggests a state of victory, success, or achievement, implying that the figure has reached a goal or won a competition.

How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6 30 AM by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?

~ Charles Bukowski, Author

Same Shit, Different Day

How the hell'd we wind up like this?

why weren't we able ☐ to see the signs that we missed ☐ and try an' turn the tables

Fuck.

It's Monday morning, 5 15 AM

For the third time, my iPhone is screaming that Nickelback song I once loved, but now hate. Another snooze and I'll be late.

Yes, it's time to wake up.

After cursing myself for not changing that damn song to something by Metallica, I yank myself out of bed, slightly hungover from the night before. I dread the day—actually no, the week—to come. Needing a jump start, I stumble into the shower, hoping for a clean perspective. No luck. The forthcoming day rivals getting a colonoscopy. As I lynch-tie my neck and arm my suit, regret and resignation ravage my soul.

Something is not right.

Perhaps it's the $800 suit. Perhaps it's the credit card that paid for the suit. Perhaps it's the stinking realization that my weekend highlight was watching two mediocre football teams play in the Las Vegas Bowl. Perhaps it's the morning darkness and the stark reality that my short Cancun vacation is still months away.

Unfortunately, this is no time for a Jesus moment.

With moments to eat, I grab an artificially colored bowl of sugar-coated grain. With one eye on the clock and another on the meal plan pinned to the refrigerator—the one I'm supposed to follow ebook3000 dot com religiously for the next eight weeks—I blame Toucan Sam for my first transgression.

Minutes later, I lumber to the driveway and wriggle into my car, sealing myself in the frigid cabin. My breath shivers a cloud. "Ugh," I groan. Even my new mur-say-dees C-Class and its fifty-seven payments remaining has lost its luster. I back out of my driveway and head to the freeway.

For the next hour, I sit trapped, fender-to-bumper in my little box, with thousands of other people like me. What I don't know is that my fellow commuters, some appearing more successful than I, are not happy either. Like me, they've failed their diets, failed their purpose, and failed their dreams. As a result, they've bribed their misery with more expensive boxes adorned with softer leather, shinier chrome, and fancier gadgets—boxes branded by prestigious insignia such as Lexus, Audi, and B.M.W.

Their mission, like mine, is appeasement: to bribe themselves into believing that they are different from the other 20,000 souls enslaved by the same paradigm imprisoned me.

Two miles and twenty minutes less from my life, I wonder, Is a sheep who drives a mur-say-dees to the slaughterhouse still a sheep?

Another hour drains before I arrive at my workplace where I pay seven bucks for the privilege to park near my building, a towering glass skyscraper that ironically, pierces the sky like a crystal dagger. As the orderly mob herds into the atrium, solemn yet caffeinated, I begin my day with a lie.

"Good morning," I greet the receptionist as I rush into a crowded elevator.

As I ascend to the sixtieth floor with my fellow inmates, I have seconds to meditate: “For the love of God, why can't it be Friday?” No time for fantasies, the doors slide open where purgatory awaits—a colossal floor featuring dozens of paneled cubes segregated into cells. Like a prison, each cell is customized to its occupant and decorated with family photos, knick-knacks engraved with biblical proverbs and unheeded platitudes, or an occasional art project from a child, yet to be cursed.

Quickly, I lipstick the pig: "okay, at least I have a job." It's a nice try, but I can't hoodwink my heart; gratitude shouldn't feel like death row at San Quentin.

I arrive at my cube, floor my satchel, and thunk to my seat.

Odd.

Manny, my cubicle neighbor who starts his day an hour earlier than I, has not arrived. In fact, his desk has been wiped clean.

Then I see it.

Sitting atop my inbox and ominously stamped confidential is a large manila envelope from corporate.

Shit, this can't be good.

The last “confidential” love letter I received doubled my health insurance costs because Congress passed some fucked-up law that no one bothered to read. I dreadfully tear open the envelope.

Apparently Manny was fired this morning for not doing his job. Well, actually his job was being done, just not by him. Supposedly, Manny deviously outsourced his duties to it workers in China, allowing him to surf Reddit and watch funny cat videos all day. The clandestine operation scammed for months.

According to the corporate dispatch, Manny was “let go” and his work temporarily off-loaded to me. Company courtesy reads like an offer from Don Corleone: My work will expand one hour per day and one Saturday a month for the next three months—for the same exact pay. O.M.F.G. And no, they're not kidding.

Suddenly, I feel a scene from Star Wars involving a trash compactor. The air thins and my eyes gloss over as a suffocating cloud forms above Cubicle 129.A. I clench my teeth so tight that my capped molar breaks in half; at least my dentist will be happy. Rage follows. Then bitterness and betrayal. I'm not sure who I'd like to strangle: my boss, my coworker, or myself.

W.T.F has my life become?

Is this why I went to college for five years?

This wasn't my plan!

As I pout like a child without my lollipop, temporary insanity gives way to functional logic: Grin and bear it. I'm trapped. I can't quit. I have bills—credit cards, a mortgage, a fancy car, student loans to the tune of 50.G—and no savings. And then there's Amanda—my uptown, uptight girlfriend who demanded an engagement ring six months ago. Throw in a biological clock ticking at warp speed and our relationship is like riding the bumper cars at the county fair. "This job is everything," I reason. "Without it, I'm shifting bricks without a diaper."

For the next four hours, I sit in my cube, poking into my computer, suffering though the minutiae of purchase orders, past-due invoices, and I.E.R's—internal escalation reports—the corporate world's version of schoolyard demerits. As my day drags on and I realize four more days of this insufferable hell awaits, and half my Saturday, I stomach a depressing truth: My dreams are dead. The consolation prize for them has become a car and a weekend.

For the rest of my day, I slag through work, eyeballing the clock like a dog salivating for a bone. Tick by tick, minute by minute, the clock widens the incongruence gnawing at my brain. With each passing, a part of my soul dies. And yet each moves me closer to the day's freedom.

Ten hours earlier, time ordered me awake, and now, time orders me to leave.

I hop back into my car, joining the others who endured a similar soul-suffocating day. I'm relieved it's over and a lifeboat awaits: It's Monday, and Monday means N.F.L Football. I crack the day's first smile, one that disappears seven minutes later. There's an accident on the I-90 freeway and I won't be home for another two hours. And I'll miss most of the game.

At home, defeated and demoralized, I drop-kick myself to the couch and crack open a cold Budweiser. It tastes like chilled piss. One sip and it's clear: don't use a butter knife when a chainsaw is needed. Four shots of Jack Daniels later and it's mission accomplished.

The room is spinning.

I'm lost to the television and catch the final ten minutes of the Steelers/Broncos game—a blowout not worth watching.

Channel flipping through alternate realities, I pay homage to the television: I can anonymously watch the lives of those suffering the same doldrums as me or interestingly, those who have been lucky and escaped it.

As I toast the death of my dreams, a Law and Order rerun gives way to an infomercial narrated by an overexcited dude with a bad British accent. He's selling a fat-squashing spandex compression girdle. Apparently, ten-years of custard donuts has a ten-second fix, assuming you don't get naked with the fool you fooled. As the hucksters and their "fat-choking bustier" bellow on, I slowly fade and pass out—not into a deep sleep but a shallow oblivion void of rejuvenation.

Hours seem like minutes, abruptly shattered by a morning noise...

How the hell'd we wind up like this?

why weren't we able ☐ to see the signs that we missed ☐ and try an' turn the tables

Fuck.

It's time to do this again...

Chapter 2 Careless Whispers: Guilty Souls Have No Rhythm

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or achievement, suggesting that the individual has successfully reached a goal or won a competition.

None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone.

~ Thomas Carlyle, Philosopher

That “Something” Is Indeed Something...

This story was my story. While I've adapted and embellished it to contemporary life, it's ghostwritten by my experience. Replace the iPhone with an alarm clock, a mur-say-dees with a Mitsubishi, and a cubicle with a limousine cab and you have it: a familiar story repeated by millions, day after day, year after year. While my story might not resemble your day, many walls can cage a prison. I had many: a warehouse, the front seat of a cargo van, a data-entry cubicle, and—how could I forget—a filthy kitchen in a Chinese restaurant. Your prison could be a nondescript office in a skyscraper, a suburban precinct, or a hospital operating room. Even esteemed professionals, doctors and lawyers, have found that the most comfortably respected prison is still, well, a prison.

However, what's important are not the walls that frame your story but the sense that something is wrong. A careless whisper guilts your soul; a heartfelt pleading bemoaning regret and restlessness; a guttural dissonance which you've camouflaged by the mundane and the mediocre. If you're young, perhaps you haven't felt this something yet, but you've seen it. For example, take this post at The Fastlane Forum:

Every.

Single.

Day.

Like this student observed, many of these something are tangible. They can sit in front of you as two parents dead to the world. My something was framed on a wall: two business degrees that cost me five years and $40,000—yeah, the ones that got me that great ten-dollar-an-hour job slinging pipe in the Chicago slums. Your tangible something could be your garage, the one with the twenty-three horsepower riding mower, surely jeering the neighbors envious, and yet, you're still unfulfilled and unhappy. Or worse, it's an air mattress in your parents' basement, the one you bought for camping that's become a temporary bed, at least until you can "figure things out" before your thirty-third birthday.

The other somethings are intangible and resonate as white noise—a nagging chorus of dissonant emotions continually whispering life's swill.

If you're younger, one of these whispers could be shame pacified by faux fame: you've earned rockstar status on Xbox Live, but in the real world, you haven't earned jack.

Another whisper could be the sting of insignificance: if you were suddenly kidnapped and beamed to planet Romulus, no one outside your family would give a shit other than your roommate, who really isn't missing you—he just misses your half of the rent payment.

Other whispers are weekly appointments with anguish: the arrival of Sunday night and its awaiting Monday feels like hide-and-seek with the grim reaper. Or perhaps the whisper is contempt salted with guilt: you hate your job, your boss, and your company, but damn, that paycheck is instant amnesia.

If you're older, the whispers likely stew as frustration: You did everything right in life as recommended and directed by authority, and yet, no matter how much you work, save, and scrimp, getting ahead is impossible. Some urgent expense always looms—the dog needs shots, the car needs tires, or the kids need cash for a school project.

Other whispers echo as disbelief and skepticism: the bank paid seven cents in interest last year and, at the rate your 401(k) is growing, you'll retire by the twenty-fourth century.

And then there's perhaps the most haunting whisper: regret. You were going to do something with your life. Be rich. Famous. A C.E.O. Independently successful. A parent who spends time with their kids beyond throwing a pizza on the dinner table and calling it a night. Yup, you were going to be accomplished, proud, and happy. But now it's all a dead dream sitting atop a stack of bills, atop a desk, atop a mediocre life.

Every something tormenting your daily humdrum hints of a great deception. Clues to a ruse. An imminent awareness that only needs its confession: You're living, but you aren't alive.

Your heart beats, but there is no pulse.

Your mind is poisoned, but the toxicology is clean.

Your soul has been stolen, but there are no thieves.

Suspicion has swelled while the incongruity gnaws.

Yes, this wasn't the life you signed up for.

This wasn't your plan.

Something is wrong.

Your soul will resonate its desires and discontent when faced with quiet or minimal distraction; for example sleeping, showering, or during a massage.

How are you responding to your soul's voice? Is it denied? Ignored? Muzzled with the intense demand of meaningless work? Distracted by a television? Honored?

Chapter 3 The Modern Day Matrix: The Script

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet. The imagery suggests a state of celebration, victory, or jumping for joy.

When a well-packaged web of lies has been sold gradually to the masses over generations, the truth will seem utterly preposterous and its speaker a raving lunatic. ~ Dresden James, Author

What If I Told You...

Something is indeed something. For most people, it's dismissed as life's background noise. Others hear the whispers and bury it with weekend merriment. For the rest of us who aren't easily manipulated, we question it. We seek its source, challenge its presence, and ask, "What the hell is going on?"

My first hint that something was wrong with the world happened as a struggling young entrepreneur in Chicago. At the time, I had a menial job as a limousine driver, which paid my bills and funded my crazy business ideas. Because the job required a special license granted by the city, I had to drive downtown to take a test for its qualification. I arrived early with time to blow, so I grabbed a coffee and seated myself at a cafe window.

As I gazed out into the commuter swarms navigating the Monday morning rush, I noticed something: Everyone moved with an eerie robotic efficiency, indifferent and obtuse. The variety of faces, no matter the age, race, or gender, were uniformly vacant and resigned, each etched with a stone-faced glower as if they've walked the walk a thousand times.

As the organized freneticism mesmerized me, the street rush slowly faded into an obscure moving fog. Unique individuals with goals, dreams, and aspirations; sons, daughters, wives, husbands, all suddenly blurred into a single collective as if one organism compelled by instinct. Did any part of the sum question why they were on a frozen street at 6 30 AM? And why would they repeat the same insanity for the next four days? Was anyone pursuing their dream, or were they pursuing what culture programmed them to pursue?

The sudden realization struck me—and frightened me: it was not free will at work, but conditioned instinct, like a bee buzzing to the hive or an ant marching to an anthill. Moreover, dress or implied social hierarchy played no relevance: three-piece suits, jeans, work overalls—the horde behaved as if controlled by a single puppet master.

As I reflected on the scene, I knew I could never—and would never—be normal as prescribed by cultural routine. That day sealed my fate as an entrepreneur—either one who'd eventually succeed or ebook3000 dot com one who would fail and die trying. Lucky for me (and you), entrepreneurship was the snips that clipped the puppet master's strings.

In the 1999 hit movie, The Matrix, Neo is given a choice: swallow the blue pill and continue living a mediocre ignorance, or swallow the red pill and jolt awake to a free but imperfect truth. Within the film's dark dystopia, The Matrix represents the default operating system for the human species, a virtual reality enslaving us to a parasitic machine race. While comatose and imprisoned, the machines feed our minds with a simulation designed to keep us oblivious, distracted, and obedient to the system draining our humanity.

Well...

What if I told you that our world suffers from the same deception—a deception orchestrated not by artificial intelligence but by conventional intelligence? A deception of unchallenged and outdated wisdom, a dream-killing dogma tyrannized by stale traditions, narrow beliefs, and cultural conformity? A deception that represents the greatest con of the civilized world—a ruse that feigns freedom and comfort, when in truth, its sole purpose is economic slavery and human homogenization, a servitude system where you become an instrument, not of inspiration or aspiration but of perspiration and desperation.

What if I told you that this deception has infiltrated your mind and embedded itself as your default operating system, an autonomous program shadowing your entire life, from cradle to grave, from career to companionship, a presumptuous, yet unwritten rulebook by which all decisions are weighed, regardless of consequence to heart or soul?

What if I told you that this operating system has granted you an inauthentic life of someone else's design? A life you did not choose. A life meticulously preplanned and preordained to follow a predictable blueprint of mediocrity. A life where dreams are forsaken for a television and a paycheck. A life consecrated by an obsolete template, decreed by authority, sanctified by education, certified by media, and obfuscated by government. A life serving to die versus living to serve.

What if I told you you've become an unwitting participant in an obligatory game, one victim in a genocide of dreams, a pawn institutionally directed by the rank doctrine that every human must go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, use credit cards, finance a car, mortgage a house, stare at the latest smartphone (further entrenching your obedience), save and cheapskate your paycheck while entrusting it to Wall Street, all while you continue feeding the bloodthirsty parasites drunk on your life force?

What if I told you that all your whispers, the despondence, the uneasiness, is your soul knocking on the door of consciousness, pleading to be heard?

Get red-pilled my fellow human being...

You aren't living by free will; you're living by a script.

Part Two

the script... engineering your involuntary slavery

Image summary: This figure is a satirical comic strip. It depicts a conversation between a student and a devil-like figure standing in front of a university building, with a sign indicating college admissions. The devil offers the student a college degree, a vague promise of employment, significant debt, and weekends in exchange for the student's time during the work week. The comic serves as a critique of the higher education system, suggesting that the cost and time commitment of obtaining a degree may outweigh the actual professional benefits and financial stability it provides.

Part 2: Author's Objective: Awareness

To expose the cultural expectations and societal mores that have framed your current existence, and done so without your knowledge or consent. To defeat the enemy, you have to know the enemy.

Chapter 4 The Inauthentic Life: Trapped by “Other People's” Thinking

The Paradigm Is Shit...

Image summary: This is a pictogram. The figure depicts a stylized human figure jumping upwards with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding a small object in one hand, with motion lines beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, success, or extreme joy.

The script. It's not an instruction booklet given at grade school or map stapled to your college degree. It's not seen or touched, but it is there. Like the air you breathe, it's invisibly omnipresent.

My downtown trip featuring a horde of caffeinated zombies highlights the typical plight of a first-world human, regardless of country or culture: Forced awake, drag yourself out of bed; drive, train, or walk to a tolerated job; and exist on autopilot—eight hours a day, five days a week, for the next fifty years. Like a scuffed record repeating its track, today plays like yesterday, which will play exactly like tomorrow. As a result, life's paycheck becomes a weekend where the workweek's postponements are reclaimed, a layaway earmarked for fun or relaxation, a respite to recharge your soul from the strain of the transaction.

What few know is, we've been programmed for this existence, a willful modern-day slavery. You see, like an operating system on a computer, the script runs the show. Give it life's helm and accept my sympathies. It will command how you think, work, play, vote, save, invest, retire—and how you die.

In a 2005 commencement speech at Stanford University, Steve Jobs said, “Don't be trapped by dogma—which is living with the results of other people's thinking.” Steve Jobs was referring to the script: an inescapable gospel of cultural presumptions woven by “other people's thinking”; a browbeaten pantheon of provincial beliefs and sanctified social mores.

So ask yourself, is this your thinking? Or other people's thinking?

Go to college and earn a degree, regardless of cost, demand, or economics. Finance your commodified education with an indiscriminate appetite for student loans, notwithstanding the five “preapproved” credit cards you've already accepted. Graduate with empty credentials and a useless degree making you no different from millions with the same degree. Leave the cloistered world of university saddled in debt—either yourself, your parents, or both. Get a job so you can officially join the privileged ranks of a time prostitute—trading huge blocks of your life's time bank, five days of seven, in exchange for little pieces of paper called money. Slave all day, usually repeating monotonous tasks, so you can pay for the education you just finished, the clothes you just dressed, the car you just drove, and the apartment you just left. Use credit cards to live conveniently: Starbucks for breakfast, Chipotle for lunch, and Chick-fil-A for dinner. Party hard at the club.

Buy rounds of drinks, trying to impress strangers and women out of your league. Buy overpriced bottles of vodka, hit the V.I.P room, and try impressing them more. Rack up debt unrestrained; after all, it's celebration time—you graduated!

Climb the corporate ladder. Wake up, hit snooze, and wake up again. Get into a routine: work, traffic, Seinfeld reruns, sleep. Repeat four times this week.

Work overtime and show your corporate overlords that you're willing to do whatever it takes. Schmooze your boss, the one with the bad suit and the bad breath. Hate your job, tolerate your coworkers, but love your paycheck. Get a pay raise and a promotion. Buy a cool car, a cool condo, and some cool clothes.

Live a fabulous weekend enriched by spirited drinking and escapism entertainment. Work hard, play harder. Spend unrestrained—after all, yolo!

Grow older.

Follow fashion: Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Follow pop culture: LeBron, Miley, T.M.Z. Follow popular television drama: Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead. Follow the lives of fake people on fake television shows portrayed as reality. Worship celebrities and athletes. Adopt celebrity opinions and their politics because they're famous. Pay your taxes.

Pay your bills: your mortgage, your car payment, your cable bill, your homeowners' association fees. Continue stacking debt—after all, you work hard and deserve it.

Grow older.

Vacation two weeks every year, but only when the overlords permit. Charge the latest and greatest stuff: Dr. Dre owns noise-canceling headphones; P. Diddy owns this; Lady Gaga owns that. Spend to feel accomplished.

Spend to feel good, at least until Monday arrives or the bill that Monday must pay. Spend to fill a void you can't explain. Feel cornered: by a job, a mortgage, a car, a credit card, and by an existence. Feel freedom drip away while medicating the truth with more distraction: more consumer debt and more fictional escapes.

Grow older.

Hear your biological clock ticking. Worry you're still single. Date a friend. Date a coworker. Start online dating: Tinder, Match, eHarmony. Meet your mate.

Marry your mate. Spend a fortune on a six-hour wedding, one that takes six years to pay off.

Continue working. Continue spending. Continue distraction. Continue dreading your Sunday night. Dread Monday more. Dream about quitting. Dream about traveling the world. Dream about waking up when you want to wake up. Dream about greatness, something more meaningful than the meaningless of paying bills and repeating. Dream about dreams long dead.

Grow older.

Have kids. Raise your kids. Get responsible. Change your debt perception. Start retirement planning.

Follow the advice of obnoxious radio personalities, like the one with the orange tan and the popped collar. Take financial advice brokered by broke brokers. Learn how to get rich from people who aren't rich.

Save 10 percent of your paycheck, max your 401(k), contribute to an I.R.A and an indexed mutual fund. Invest everything saved into the stock market, hope for 10 percent, and pray to avoid a crash.

Save for your child's college education. Work harder and longer. Get out of debt. Make a budget. Follow a budget. Clip coupons. Cancel the movie channels.

Cancel the cable subscription. Stop drinking Starbucks. Stop eating Chipotle. Bag a lunch. Stop going to the movies, stop shopping name brand, and stop shopping period. Stop dreaming about sports cars because every dime must be coveted and handed out. to Wall Street. Settle for less, stop enjoying, stop living, and start dying.

Trust you'll be able to retire by sixty-five. Trust you'll be alive by sixty-five. Trust Wall Street. Trust compound interest, hoping it gives you 10 percent a year despite zero interest rates for the last decade. Trust the economy always has a job for you. Trust your house continually appreciates.

Trust the mainstream media while believing their objectivity. Trust the drug companies. Trust the food you're eating is healthy. Trust the U.S.D.A food pyramid, the F.D.A, and its board of pharmaceutical executives.

Trust your obese doctor. Trust your government representatives.

Wither older.

Insist that your kids get good grades so they can get into a good college and, like you, get a good job so they can repeat the same death march you can't escape. Teach your kids the difference between “pipe dreams” and “reality.”

Continue working. Continue aging in indifference. Repeat, set to autopilot, and patiently wait while chained to the worst partners ever partnered: hope and time. Hope the stock market grew your portfolio. Hope inflation hasn't ravaged your portfolio.

Hope compound interest yields the projected returns promised by the fiscal sycophants. Hope your money hasn't been hyperinflated away by blank-check politicians. Hope Social Security still exists.

Hope there's enough money left to win the free time you've never had and always dreamed of.

Wither older.

Feel regret. Remorse. Your bucket list is full and your time bank is near empty. Your portfolio shares a similar state of emptiness. Hit sixty-five. Come to the unpleasant truth that hope and time haven't yielded the promised 10 percent per year. Delay retirement. Delay the wife's retirement. Delay for more work, more saving, and more frugality.

Unfortunately, time doesn't give a shit. Time doesn't care that you were promised a carefree retirement because you trusted six decades to an index fund. Time doesn't care that you're years away from a dream cruise. Time doesn't care that you worked for sixty years, spent a fortune bolstering the economy, and paid a king's ransom in taxes. Time doesn't care what was promised and not delivered.

Because time says it's time to die...

Before retirement, before the bucket list, before resolving the regret...

Welcome to the script...

Manufactured by conventional wisdom...

Distributed by institutionalized indoctrination...

And swallowed with blind faith...

Wake up...the product being manufactured is you.

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure standing with both arms raised upward and outward, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Herds are organized for economic purposes: slaughter, shearing, milking. Herd with the crowd and you will get predictable results designed for the crowd.

How I Escaped Manufactured Mediocrity

I've been fortunate.

Unlike most youngsters, my scripted programming was stalled by a viral seed of doubt. But it didn't start that way. As expected, environment and circumstance kick-started the process. I was raised in a dysfunctional lower-middle-class family, a fertile garden for scripted roots. By my early teens, the bedrock had been laid: get good grades, get into a good college, graduate, and get a good job.

My dreams of an extraordinary life suffered an early death with the death of my parents' marriage. Dad bayled for the drinking and swinging single life and left my high-school-educated mom with three expensive tyrants. That's when I learned about "real life": no new clothes, no first-run movies, and no Sizzler. Settling for less was life.

And that's when I gave up thinking that life would be anything but ordinary. Back then, a popular television program, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, reinforced a scripted theme: Fantastic dreams were for the rich and famous—celebrities, pro athletes, and rock stars. I couldn't sing, my gut swallowed my waist, and I certainly wasn't Sinatra's second coming. Circumstances cultivated the seed, and script indoctrination was underway.

And then something happened. And it changed everything.

I don't remember my age, but I was old enough to ogle sports cars and sixteen-year-old girls. While rolling over to the ice cream parlor, hoping to further inflate the tire around my stomach, I spotted a Lamborghini Countach parked outside—my dream car. I froze in a drooling, wide-eyed trance.

My appetite, forgotten. My shyness, spurned. Overcome with adrenaline, I kissed my comfort zone good-bye and asked the young owner what he did for work.

His response?

He said he was an entrepreneur—specifically, an inventor.

And at that moment, while accosted by this gorgeous piece of machinery, something clicked: I became aware that dreams were not just for athletes, rocks stars, and Hollywood actors but also for entrepreneurs. And those dreams could happen young.

Wham.

The script's viral threat was born. The incident planted a rogue code and seeded my entrepreneurial D.N.A, a path that grew into more than a random career choice—it became an awareness and a defense to the biggest scams of the century.

In the years that followed, I nurtured this seed while the script failed its assimilation.

As a teenager, I practiced neighborhood entrepreneurship, albeit failingly (more on that later). In high school and college, I studied entrepreneurship extensively on my own—my school offered no such curriculum. Story after story, my research confirmed the truth: Successful entrepreneurs were among the few who lived extraordinarily, both in material and spiritual abundance. Mind you, back then business start-ups weren't glorified by weekly reports of billion-dollar liquidation events from upstart garage projects and ramen noodle diets.

By the time I graduated college, having suffered through a mélange of “how to be a good employee,” I was further “all-in” on entrepreneurship, knowing I could never lynch a tie five times a week. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of entrepreneurship would not be my job. It would be my life. However, looking back, I wasn't prepared for what awaited: a world that sung the same song from every radio where lowering the volume is as difficult as bending steel with your bare hands. Continue onward and let the truth be your mute.

Chapter 5 Conventional Wisdom: The Road to a Conventional Life

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised and a small object held in one hand, positioned above vertical motion lines. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or jumping, suggesting an achievement or a moment of triumph.

Conventional = Ordinary = Mediocrity

h e script's most powerful weapon is its implied social contract—a social contract inked by conventional wisdom dispensed by conventional people living conventional lives. And anytime you comply with the social mandates, you endorse the contract.

However, the jig doesn't end there. Dig deeper and the script packs a more insidious truth: an institutional army of parasites, profiteers, and conspirators who feed off scripted hosts. Deep Throat had it right—follow the money. The official definition? The script is conventional wisdom directing a conventional life, dispensed by either a compromised party of convention or a profiteering party of prejudice.

Now, when I say conventional wisdom, I'm not referencing uncommon sense, like gambling your entire paycheck at the roulette table or driving after nine margaritas. Nope, I'm talking about the unchallenged social standards and assumptive dogma driving the human experience within any first-world culture. Take for example the following statements, all representing either prescriptive or assumptive scripted doctrine:

- To succeed in life, you need a college degree.

- A college graduate earns X more dollars than someone who doesn't.

- Comfort and security start with a good job at a good company.

- Starting a business is risky.

- ☑ To get rich, you should pinch pennies and eliminate all unnecessary expenditures.

- To grow wealth, you should faithfully invest your saved pennies into the stock market, preferably in a low-cost indexed mutual fund.

- To retire rich, be patient through the decades and let “compound interest” work its magic.

- Wealth is measured by your bank account and the material possessions it buys: the house where you live, the car you drive, the clothes you wear.

- Your home is a great investment.

- Monday through Friday is for work; Saturday and Sunday are for play.

- Retirement happens at sixty-five or, if you're a hard worker and a good investor, fifty-five.

- The trusted instruments of wealth accumulation are I.R.A's, 401(k)s, and a well-diversified portfolio, namely indexed mutual funds.

- If you want to make more money, go back to school and get an advanced degree.

- Money doesn't buy happiness.

- Good things come to those who wait.

- Follow your passion, do what you love, and you'll never work another day in your life.

- Time is money.

Each of these statements (or any derivative phrasing) is what I call scriptspeak. On any given day, at any given website, you're perpetually bludgeoned over the head with this bunk like no one has heard it before.

If this advice has you stuck in a shithole, take heart. You aren't to blame as much as you think. The fact is, your current situation might not have been your plan, but it's the script's plan. Your college thanks you.

Your bank thanks you. Your government thanks you. Your retail stores, restaurants, and corporations thank you.

Hollywood thanks you. Wall Street's minions—their brokers, their bankers, and their C.N.B.C personalities—thank you. And moving forward unchanged, they will thank you until you've worked your last hour and invested your last dime.

You see, like Steve Jobs, who wasn't trapped by the dogma of conventional wisdom, the rich get richer because the rich aren't bound by the script—they're the ones profiting from it.

The proliferation of scriptspeak is not random. It is either autonomically regurgitated by a compromised party or meticulously orchestrated by a prejudiced party. No matter who's the parrot, you should listen to neither.

The Compromised Party of Convention (the crowd

A compromised party is someone who holds the script as their life's operating system. Compromised parties can be friends, family, coworkers, and authority figures: teachers, coaches, and guidance counselors. As such, script propagation is parroted; the compromised party was taught X, Y, and Z as a youngster, and now, as an adult, they will convey the same beliefs because it's the only reality they know. The nine-to-five, paycheck-to-paycheck, live-for-a-weekend is their life, and it shall become yours.

As a result, you're another cow to be milked, no better than a soldier ant given his marching orders by the queen. When it comes to scriptspeak from the scripted, ask yourself this: If I accept average advice from average people living average lives, can I expect to be anything but average?

The Profiteering Party of Prejudice (the Money)

Like a compromised party, a prejudiced party also disseminates scripted doctrine. However, whereas a compromised party parrots platitudes simply because they think it's best for you, a prejudiced party profits from scriptspeak.

For example, a typical prejudiced party writes articles about how a scripted existence will yield future fortunes. As such, they profit from the sale of books, financial products, seminars, and various other fee-based products or services.

For example, in December of 2015, a MarketWatch dot com article led with the headline, “How time can turn 3,000 into 50 million.” In this perfect example of scripted horseshit, the author begins his fantasy with the statement, “I can't say I've done it, but I'm going to show you how you could.”

Awesome. And let me show you how to jump out of an airplane without a parachute. Oh yeah, I haven't done it, but don't worry, you'll be in front of me to soften the blow when your ignorant butt splatters on the concrete.

But wait, this shit gets better.

The author goes on to say that the illustrious fifty-million-dollar fantasyland happens with regular, 12 percent market returns. Obviously in his scripted Neverland, Madoff is legit and so are his returns. In any event, the author is involved in multiple ventures that profit from scripted doctrine, namely a “wealth management” and an “investment advisory” firm. Prejudiced party, ya think? Lock, stock, and barrel.

“No! I am the Boss of Me!”

Daddy: I love your Lego castles. Are you going to be a king when you grow up?

Billy: Nah, I wanna live in a trailer next to the steel mill. When I grow up, I'm gonna be scrubbing the castle's toilets.

First, let me say I have nothing against dirty work. I wrote, “scrubbing toilets” because it's a chapter from my life. Yes, I had a job cleaning shit stains, which incidentally was a job I held after college. If only I could have scrubbed those shitters with my two business degrees...

Anyway, how would you react if your child aspired to scrub toilets? Perplexed? Concerned? Fib and correct him: “You can be anything you set your mind to”?

The truth is, our children don't dream about mediocrity and uninspired living.

Had my son answered like this, I'd ask him why he felt that way. Would living in a trailer and scrubbing toilets make him happy? If so, it's the end of the story. But I doubt any child in recorded history has ever answered the “when you grow up” question with a tale of trailer-park living and shit-scrubbing labor.

When you were a kid and an adult scolded you to do stuff you didn't like, you'd assert, "No! I am the boss of me!"

You see, before the script clawed into you, you were once free. Pure and unmolested. You'd wake up happy and excited about the day.

As a kid, you had fantastic dreams and unstoppable visions powering an optimistic future. You wanted to be the next DiCaprio, the next Hemingway, the next Jordan, the next Elvis, the next Picasso, the next great something—if not worldly, then locally, as a gourmet chef, a brave firefighter, or a respected policeman. Whatever your dreams, you acted on them on the playground, in books, or by Halloween costume. Dreams were alive and teeming with probability.

And then something happened.

You grew up.

Suddenly you were no longer the boss of you. You were issued into an educational system that happened, not surprisingly, Monday through Friday—the perfect, practiced assimilation to what was foreshadowed. And suddenly the reality of your friends, family, and peers became yours.

With no explanation and no event to mark the shift, everyone encouraging your dreams suddenly changed their stories. Be realistic. Grow up. That's impossible. Stop daydreaming about this and that. Reality became a picture painted by the brush strokes from everyone around you who lived in unremarkable mediocrity.

What happened?

The script—modern civilization's impermeable intranet where dreams are killed and life routinizes into the mundane and trivial—got into your head. And the rest becomes history: the worthless degree, the debt stockpile, the contemptible job, the weekend bribe, the elderly retirement...

W.H.O or what has become “the boss of you?” A pile of student loan debt? A job, a car payment, or a mortgage? Unwritten expectations from family or peers?

Chapter 6 The Scripted Operating System: The Web of Servitude

The ideal tyranny is that which is ignorantly self-administered by its victims. The most perfect slaves are, therefore, those which blissfully and unawardly enslave themselves. ~ Dresden James, Author

The Framework for Obedience

Spider weaves a web for one purpose: to ensnare prey for consumption later. Like a spider, the script also weaves a web, an operating system that's programs your mind to accept a voluntary slavery-destined for obedience and economic servitude.

The scripted operating system (O.S) codes itself with a distro. (In computing, a “distro” is a software collection which distributes an operating system to end users.) The script's distro is responsible for dissemination, then assimilation. And like all software programmed for a purpose, the scripted O.S also has its purpose: to manufacture you into a M.O.D.E.L. Citizen tamed to its precepts.

Your defense is knowledge.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of entrepreneurship is the offense.

Here is the scripted O.S decoded:

The Seeders:

Like a torrent hosted within a computer system, seeders write and enforce scripted doctrine. As described earlier, seeders are compromised or prejudiced parties.

The Hyperrealities:

The script's illusions, the hyperrealities reinforce your obedience and captivity through deception, distortion, or diversion.

Temporal Prostitution:

Seeders and their hyperrealities sanctify a criminal trade for your most precious asset: your time.

The Life Paths:

The illusion of free choice and deciding your slave owner: Door A, the Sidewalk; or Door B, The ebook3000 dot com Slowlane. Both lead to the slaughterhouse. Neither makes you the boss of you.

Distraction:

If you're distracted, the scripted O.S stays hidden. M.O.D.E.L. Citizenship becomes a foregone conclusion.

M. O. D. E. L. Citizenship:

You unwillingly become a scripted servant who is (M)ediocre, (O)bedient, (D)ependent, (E)ntertained, and (50)ifeless and who then becomes a seeder, a compromised party propagating the scripted O.S.

Image summary: This figure is a hierarchical triangular diagram. The content illustrates a conceptual framework titled The Scripted Operating System, divided into levels including The Seeders, The Hyperrealities, and The Life Paths, leading down to Model Citizenry. The top level consists of influences like family, education, and government, while the middle level focuses on societal constructs such as consumerism and virtual reality. The lower sections describe paths like temporal prostitution and a choice between two doors labeled sidewalk and slowlane. Arrows labeled distraction point downward along the sides of the triangle. The diagram suggests that various societal influences and hyperrealities create a system of distraction that funnels individuals through specific life paths toward a predetermined state of model citizenry.

Chapter 7 The Seeders: Our Life Sucks, Yours Should Too

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding a small object in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or jumping for joy.

The 6 Seeders Coding Your Indoctrination

Deeders indoctrinate and/or disseminate. Either individuals or institutions, seeders are responsible for getting the software into your head, and keeping it there. Whenever scripted doctrine risks exposure or faces scrutiny, it's a seeder's job to reeducate, or worse, shut down the debate entirely. Such “reeducation” could be a flawed study, an article, or some other anecdotal item pushed by a biased party using one of many logical fallacies, often arguments based on emotion rather than fact. And in many cases, the person questioning convention is branded a quack or an extremist.

For instance, had you lived in tenth-century China, you would have been taught the Earth is flat. The seeders, both compromised and prejudiced parties, then disseminate the lie.

With a compromised party, the seeder is an authority figure, usually a parent or a teacher, who merely parrots what they learned or lived. Twenty years ago my teacher taught me “flat Earth” and now you will learn it too. With a compromised party, there isn't malicious intent. The afflicted party is unknowingly miseducating you so that you “fit in” and are “normal.”

In the other case, a prejudiced party knows the accepted presumption is a lie yet profits from its ongoing falsehood. In our flat-Earth tale, a prejudiced party could be a government, the media, or a businessperson.

For instance, let's say you live in a small coastal village landlocked by impassable mountains. The village leaders tyrannically suggest every citizen work sixteen-hour days, six days a week. The village plutocrats, thanks to a profitable tax system, live lavishly and work sparingly. They also know the truth —the Earth is not flat—but through benevolent, state-sponsored education, they teach the lie: “The Earth is flat, and sailing away is 'dangerous and risky.'”

But trouble brews. Outside town lives a young boatman who dishonors the village chieftains and claims the Earth is round. Behind his outlandish claim is another claim: he says he's successfully sailed the ocean and found a better way of life. Upon hearing such blasphemy and knowing its threat to the village's economic prosperity, the leaders (who control the media) publish news stories smearing the boatman as a crazy lunatic. Other label his reports as "fake news". As such, the villagers dismiss the boatman and remain pliant to the cultural system their leaders have ordained, not knowing a better life is just a short sail to the east.

Our world suffers a similar scenario, thanks to six seeders who have made the scripted O.S as ubiquitous as Instagram narcissism.

Those seeders are:

#1) Friends and Family: Our Life Sucks, So Yours Should Too.

I studied finance at college. Not because I enjoyed math, but because my family instructed, “The money is in finance.” My uncle was a successful Fortune 500 financial executive so instead of studying entrepreneurship, I was steered into depreciation formulas, standard deviations, and portfolio theory. After four expensive years, I earned a finance degree, despite being a creative, left-handed, crayon-the-wall deviant who loved math as much as a prostate exam.

After earning the accolade and hating every class, I had a gut check: “Shit, I can't do this for the rest of my life, even as a 'fallback' for entrepreneurial failure.” So I stayed and got another degree, one better suited for entrepreneurship: marketing.

In every case, the script's epidemiology starts with family.

As a child, you're as defenseless to imprinting as a toddler is to his stinky diapers. Its first upload comes from your parents because they too are living by the same script. They want what they think is best for you, and unfortunately, what's best in their eyes is “normal” and “safe.” Take for example these two accounts posted at The Fastlane Entrepreneur Forum:

When I was a youngster, I saw a Porsche and my dad had a new Toyota Camry. I asked my dad,"Why does the guy driving the Porsche have a better car than us?" My father told me it's because he was lucky. So I thought,"okay, I hope I grow up lucky."³

I was in Subway for lunch when a Lamborghini rolled by, eliciting a lot of head turns and chatter. At the next table, I overheard a son ask his dad how to get a Lamborghini. The conversation went like this:"Well son, a Lamborghini is a lot of money! If you want to get one, you'll have to work hard in school, get into a good college, and get a good job at some place like Microsoft. By the time you're my age you would be able to afford one. And that, my son, is how successful people do it."

While these two examples glorify flashy cars as a success standard, they represent more: To a child, these cars personify dreams, much like when I was young. Unfortunately, after your parents squash your childhood dreams—you'll never own a Lamborghini unless you're lucky—you're hit with life's scripted bullshit: get good grades so you can get into a good college so you can get a good job, work hard, finance a house and a car, and live exactly like we do.

But it doesn't stop at family.

Friends and colleagues are also potent seeders. Yes, the ones who are broke and miserable. The ones voicing such concerns as “that's a bad idea” or “that's not realistic.” For these naysayers, their accomplishments are few while their excuses are plenty; the American Dream is dead and something else blows the blame: the economy, the boss, the evil globalists, the evil Republicans, the evil Democrats, or the sun shining in late June.

Unless you have carefully cultivated your friends and coworkers, chances are they don't want you succeeding beyond their own success. Ever tell your peers you got a new job? Notice the likes and congratulations. But tell them you quit your job to go after your dream? #Stinkface. Unfurl the umbrella for the hellstorm about to rain. You'll be bludgeoned with dire warnings and caveats.

Translation?

script divergence is unacceptable. You must be like us. You must stay within the lines of the nine-to-five model. Speak of anything outside the formula and watch the spaghetti fly. Watch friends drop. Watch loved ones doubt you, or worse, disown you.

Unfortunately, in Asian and Indian cultures the script has a choking grip and a higher price for deviation. In multiple instances, young immigrant students have vented frustration on my forum because they hate the path they've been forced to take, but their parents insist because of cultural expectations.

Parent says, “Be a doctor!” Child says, “No, that doesn't make me happy!” Take for example this forum comment:

Long story short, I dropped out of school to start a business. Now I am looking for a job just to pay the bills while I chip away at my mission. However, my parents don't believe in my ideas. I don't have a problem with all the scrutiny and the yelling, but the tables have turned. My parents are more emotionally involved. My mom is depressed and says I need to be realistic; otherwise, I am going to end up a loser at a dead end.

My father says, "Look what you're doing to your mom; she is lost because you did not finish your degree and get a job with a big company."

Now I am this horrible deadbeat son. Like many immigrant families, it's get a degree and a nine-to-five with a huge corporation or be a loser.

Sad that scripted noncompliance means being labeled a loser. Or worse, family banishment. Parents are not encouraging dreams. Instead, we're smothering our kids with sacrosanct traditions and antiquated templates for living. The truth is, some parents would rather enjoy the prestige of having their kid be a miserable doctor ready to jump off a cliff over a happy human being.

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure standing with both arms raised upward and outward. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or success.

If the people in your family or peer group are not happy and living a life you would like to lead, their life advice should be considered cautiously.

#2) Education: Get in Line, Raise Your Hand, Follow Instructions

If friends and family are a scripted vise, education is the crank. As the crank screws tighter, so does the script's mental machinery. The truth is, we're being indoctrinated, not educated.

As soon as you're old enough to hold a crayon, you're taught that "work" or "things I'd rather not do" start Monday and end Friday, while "play" is reserved for the weekend. By the time you graduate from college, you'll suffer through 650 weeks in seventeen consecutive years of Monday-through-Friday conditioning, a regimen accounting for nearly 100 percent of your sentient life, in which it's clear: for each of the next 2,600 weeks of your life (fifty years), you must surrender five days into the system, while two are for you. Good deal?

Next, the educational system conditions you to accept an authoritative structure requiring permission: At 8 AM, you need to be in homeroom; math is at nine and gym at ten. Eat lunch at noon. Ask permission to piss. Do as you're told, stay in a single-file line, and don't talk unless asked. At work, you do the same. You follow instructions.

Do as you're told. Unplanned absences are frowned upon. Any weekday freedom requires permission: personal days, vacations, or an early recess to watch your kid's baseball game.

In high school and throughout college, the scripted worldview targets its primary nemesis: critical thinking. Instead of exposing our kids to free thought, educational institutions are now full-fledged indoctrination camps pushing ideological agendas from ideological administrators. Critical thinking is being systematically destroyed where two opposing viewpoints are no longer debated. Instead, students are blustered with opinions and partisan doctrine presented as facts or established rules of normalcy.

For instance, in 2014, a Connecticut high school blocked Internet access to conservative websites, such as the National Rifle Association, Christianity dot com, and the National Right to Life. The message? You cannot think for yourself; we will think for you. I'm not advocating Jesus or guns—I'm advocating critical thinking and the freedom to examine both sides so you can decide for yourself.

When issues are presented through a scripted firewall, no matter if it's a domineering Catholic nun with a wooden stick or a Marxist professor wearing an ugly sweater vest, critical thinking is conveniently destroyed. And guess what? The script doesn't want you thinking critically.

Educational propagandists and their thought police, however, are not limited to just state-run institutions—they could be private or theological. Regardless, the war for your child's mind has no safe harbor. Statistics reveal a whopping 72 percent of American colleges and their faculty promote a state-centric collectivism (over individualism) while stifling divergent thought. The university system, once an intellectual crossroad for ideas, is now the largest confirmation bias on the planet, where mass cast opinions are sheathed in “safe spaces” as undebatable truths.

Another scripted failing is failure itself.

In school, failure is a bad thing. Marked by a bloody F and a parental beatdown, failure is admonished. Fail and you're grounded! No T.V, no iPad! Is it any shock that straight-A students make great employees while the C-students are the guys hiring them?

The A-students do as they're told, follow rules unquestioningly and stay within the lines. Meanwhile, C-student and future billionaire Johnny is a ninth grader's newest B.F.F—he's underneath the bleachers selling his older brother's Playboys at twenty-five dollars a pop.

Education's final nail in the scripted O.S is a disturbing ee-thoss of victimology and the normalization of averageness, as if these things were virtues. Competitive drive is being suppressed and gagged. Our public schools (and some parents) are grooming our kids to be a dithering, over-medicated and over-coddled band of wimps who throw tantrums when their sippy cups go empty. Today, we protect feelings.

We praise when no praise was earned. Because you simply exist, you are entitled. And if you're not granted entitlement, you're a victim. Firm discipline (where's that Catholic nun with the stick when you need her?) has been replaced by "time out" and flowery negotiations.

For example, this is an actual letter sent home with students from a Michigan elementary school, a preemptive warning that your child's competitive drive must be stifled and, of course, his or her feelings protected:

The purpose of the day is for our school to get together for an enjoyable two hours of activities and provide an opportunity for students, teachers and parents to interact cooperatively. Since we believe that all of our children are winners, the need for athletic ability and the competitive “urge to win” will be kept to a minimum. The real reward will be the enjoyment and good feelings of participation.

Ahh, “good feelings of participation”—God knows life is filled with those, right? Merely “participate” at work and you get fired. How's that for good feelings? Oh, and the “urge to win” or “out compete” someone who doesn't give a shit? Surely that has no use in real life, eh? I wish I was making this up.

Similarly, a Rhode Island middle school pushed the mediocrity mandate by trying to cancel their traditional honors night because rewarding students who do well is “exclusive.”

After an uproar from some parents, they backtracked. One of those parents rhetorically asked a local reporter, “How else are they supposed to learn coping skills, not just based on success but relative failure?” His daughter affirmed the same when she indicated she worked harder during the semester in an effort to not miss this year's event. Perhaps next year, the Rhode Island school can honor the students who thought their homework sucked and played Call of Duty for four months straight. You see, there was a time when working hard earned a trophy on stage; now you get them for showing up with your hands in your pockets.

Educational institutions and their scripted tentacles are now manufacturing entire generations of brain-dead adults who never failed in their entire life and have a wall of participation trophies to show for it. Their greatest accomplishments are caricatures in the virtual versus the real world. They're brainwashed to believe that life is fair and it will protect your feelings. Hard work, optional.

Competing, optional. Going above the call, optional. Many fear phone and face-to-face communication, opting for more impersonal methods, such as texting, Snapchatting, and Instagramming. Others hyperventilate and get “triggered” at the slightest criticism or divergent opinions that intrude on their preselected and prescreened world.

For example, in May 2014, Condoleezza Rice, former U.S. Secretary of State and a member of the Stanford University faculty, was scheduled to deliver the commencement speech at Rutgers University. Students protested, apparently not liking her political orientation and Iraq War involvement. After backlashes, she rescinded. Similarly, in 2017, Milo Yiannopoulos, a British journalist and writer at Breitbart news, attempted to bring his controversial (and often offensive) opinions to California Berkeley. Students didn't protest, they rioted; burning property, smashing windows, and overall, acting like a bunch of petulant children who didn't get their promised juice box. Yes, the university that birthed the free speech movement is now trying to kill it.

The truth is, these snowflakes shit their Pampers when anything threatens their coddled lexicon—a contrary viewpoint, an opposition idea, or anything divergent to their sequestered safe spaces. Yes, when free speech doesn't agree with my zero years of real life experience, it's time to hurl some bricks through windows.

Sad, but college campuses have degenerated into expensive brainwashing clinics for scripted groupthink, a petri dish incubating mollycoddled adults ill-equipped to question their puppetmasters who thread their strings.

Bottom line, not only is the script teaching our kids to think inside the box of conforming mediocrity, but it's imbuing them with the false expectation that they can plow through life doing the minimums: show up, text, post selfies.... Do so and you can win all that life has to offer. The awakening is, indeed, rude.

#3) Corporate Seeders: Be All You Can Be

Whereas the education seeder teaches us to be good little employees, the corporate seeder tells us why: so you can afford all the goodies we make and be happy.

Corporate advertising makes it clear: happiness, success, or fulfillment is just one credit card swipe away.

Want the best a man can get? Buy Gillette.

A breakfast of champions? Eat Wheaties.

Be all you can be? Join the Army.

Relentlessly pursuing perfection? Buy a Lexus.

The good folks over at Harley-Davidson say, “American by Birth, Rebel by Choice”—yes, the rebellious life is yours for sixty easy payments and mostly driven on the weekend, L.O.L. Never mind your 610 credit score, the $114 in your retirement account, or your crappy sales job at the cell phone store—you're such the rebel!

Unfortunately, by the time we hit grade school, the script's corporate seeder has us believing happiness and social hierarchy are determined by brand consumption. Fun and excitement are found in a bowl of Apple Jacks or a McDonald's Happy Meal. You can't just watch the new Star Wars movie; you have to own all the action figures.

By high school, you learn that if Johnny's parents drive a B.M.W, well then, Johnny's rich. If Brooke Adams, the most popular girl in school, sees you wearing off-brand shoes from Payless, it's social suicide. Unless you're one of the cool kids wearing Abercrombie, don't bother asking her out. Even in my own experience with teenage gift buying, it's Beats headphones or nothing at all. Yeah, I'd rather not enjoy music than be seen wearing something else. You see, the script teaches our children that their popularity and "coolness" are driven by consumption: what they wear and what they drive.

This sad reality was witnessed in 2014, when college student Elliot Rodger went on a killing spree in Santa Barbara, California, and cut six innocent lives short. In his public ramblings, he made it clear that scripted dogma was to blame: Expensive consumer goods—Ray-Ban shades, Armani clothing, and a B.M.W—should have provided him with happiness and female companionship as advertised. When it didn't, anger and betrayal boiled. And a sickening rampage followed. Of course, the script doesn't create sociopathic killers, but in this case, it contributed.

Aimed straight at our kids, the scripted message is clear: Adult success is correlated to buying shit. Flash your credit card, finance your rock star life, and show up styling. Do so and happily-ever-after is your reward.

#4) The Financial Seeder: Trust Those Who Cannot Be Trusted

I was told recently that a friend of a friend wrote a book on how to get rich. According to my buddy, the book details the usual financial orthodoxy involving Wall Street, frugality, and three-quarters of your life. The problem is, my friend knows this guy well.

Very well. And guess what? He's not rich. Not even close.

And yet here he is, the proverbial blind leading the blind. If you want to become a champion swimmer, shouldn't your coach know how to swim?

Every nine-seconds, a new personal finance book is published. okay, I made that stat up, but I'm guessing there are a bazillion books on retirement, personal finance, and investing. And no matter who the author, these books always dance the same dingbat dance: "Work hard and long, save and invest for decades, and one day you'll be rich."

You see, this explains why most people over sixty-five are multimillionaires.

#MicDrops

not.

According to U.S Census data, the median average income for near-retirees is only 2,146 a month. Additionally, according to the 2014 Retirement Confidence Survey, a whopping 60 percent have saved less than 25,000.

I guess theory doesn't work out in practice.

Behind the avalanche of money books lurks the script and its financial seeder, the multitrillion-dollar financial industry consisting of banks, government, financial funds, and investment houses, including the mediums bolstering them.

Their job?

To entice your fiscal future into the grip of hope-and-pray—three uncontrollable and unpredictable markets: the job market, the stock market, and the housing market. That's right, anchor your retirement to Wall Street, a bunch of untouchable bankers, and a Ponzified Social Security scheme propped up by a perpetual printing press called a government.

Meanwhile, your bank pays you 0.01 percent interest on your savings, and the financial seeders of the scripted fantasy get fabulously wealthy managing your money while charging hefty fees for the privilege. The goal is your undying belief that your life savings are in good hands. When you find out it isn't, it's too late. You're too old, or worse, dead.

#5) Government: The Santa Claus for Adults Who Live Like Children

There will never be a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. Washington D.C, your government, is the insatiable mother ship of scripted doctrine. In the old days, we had a representative government where citizens took temporary leave from their profession to serve political office. Back then, government was “by the people, for the people”; today, it's “by the few, for the few.” And crawling within the legislative halls are over 10,000 lobbyists, who spend an average of 3 billion annually, each greasing a special-interest agenda.

Meanwhile, millions of M.O.D.E.L. Citizens are unknowingly trapped in a servitude system designed to enrich government and power. The battlefront for this high-stakes game plays out in a political duopoly that feigns citizen representation. One party promises freebies; the other promises freedom—but neither can be trusted. The joke's on you. No matter the promises, your vote is merely symbolic in determining where power shifts and consolidates among special interests and oligarchs.

Listen to politicians and they'll campaign scripted platitudes that make you seethe with envy, anger, or both: Those evil business owners, surely rich through nefarious means, aren't paying their fair share and need to be penalized for their obscene profits. Oh, and you're poor because someone else is rich. Never mind that the last time you opened a book, brick phones were technological marvels. But don't worry, the government is here to institute moral and just order!

In 2011, amidst thunderous applause, Barack Obama stood straight-faced at a campaign podium and said, “If you own a business—you didn't build that.” Conservatives jumped on the gaffe like flies to dung while progressives dismissed the statement as selective paraphrasing. On whatever side of the political spectrum you sit, the scripted message is clear: you owe the government gratitude for their benevolence; whether it's in-context (roads, bridges or fire departments) or out-of-context (businesses built from your sweat and tears), good ole Uncle Sam loves you (and your money) and their help is paramount to your success.

And then there's my favorite scripted scam propped up by...who would guess? The Federal Reserve. They have a knack for conducting studies. Yes, the money-printing wart of the government wants you to know that “a college degree is worth X dollars over your lifetime!” In 2014, The Economist reported that student-loan debt exceeded $1.2 trillion dollars.

This debt cannot be bankrupted away. It must be repaid with tax-producing work. And work produces economic growth, which produces more consumption and more taxes.

Is it any coincidence that the manufacturing process for M.O.D.E.L. Citizens cements in college? For ebook3000 dot com the uninformed, college is a leather-lined conveyor belt straight into the scripted slaughterhouse.

You see, when you participate in a scripted economy—paying a fortune for a college degree, financing a thirty-year mortgage, buying a bunch of crap you don't need—you bankroll government. After 9/11, in response to the new terrorist threat, President George W. Bush infamously suggested that Americans "go shopping" because, by all means, if you want to defeat religious radicals, a new Ford Mustang could be the silver bullet we've been looking for. The government knows consumption powers the scripted machine—whether it's war, votes, $47,000 T.S.A iPad apps, or a huge industrial contract priced at 300 percent over market. Make no mistake, we are being collateralized.

#6) Media: We're Objective in Our Subjectivity

Noam Chomsky once said, “The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum.” No words better describe the script's mouthpiece, the media. From the local news to the national press agencies, to Internet newspapers to talk radio, the illusion of this tainted water is, you pick the flavor.

Decades ago, the media once objectively reported the news and let you judge. Yes, journalism was real. Since then, Bernstein and Woodward have regressed into Olbermann and O'Reilly. Now journalists are scripted propagandists in the business of public relations—censoring, distorting, and crafting whatever “news” befits their agenda. News channels no longer objectively report but have become unconfessed spokespersons for the political duopoly, fire-walling truth and stoking the fires of our biases.

With a fully co-opted media, we now live in an ineptocracy controlled by an oligarchy. The least able to produce elect the least able to lead who then confiscate the production from a diminished pool of producers. In return, laws, which aren't read, debated, or understood, are passed benefiting the power structure. Mistruths and misdirections are spouted from both sides of the aisle as a matter of public policy—and the media doesn't give a shit. Politicians, from world leaders to the city councilman, lie and hem-haw daily—and again, the media doesn't give a shit. Collective heads are buried in asses while the ineptocracy demands news over the First Lady's dress or some pissing royal baby born across the pond. While Rome burns and the arsonists roam free, the headline of the day has degenerated into candid paparazzi pics of Kim Kardashian's ass or who was, or who wasn't, invited to the latest celebrity wedding. Meanwhile, genocide to the likes of Hitler 2.0 is occurring in the Middle East, but gosh golly, who can pay attention when Two Broke Girls is having their season finale?

Puhleeze, move along folks, nothing to see here.

The media mouthpiece seeds for other seeders, a nonstop torrent of propaganda that makes Joseph Goebbels grin in hell. Hit your favorite financial website and you'll read it: They'll tell you that the secret to wealth and a cushy retirement is hope-and-pray—fifty years invested into stocks, bonds, or whatever asset class is bubbling du jour. Other websites regurgitate Buffettisms ad nauseam, as if Warren Buffett's empire isn't about entrepreneurship, but about logging onto eTrade and buying one hundred shares of General Electric. And the worst of the rabble, the “thrifty millionaire” stories that make me want to rip my head off and throw it in a Cuisinart.

Unlike family, the media's complicity in the grand scheme is prejudicial. There's no money in hard truths, but fantasy buys eyeballs; it buys votes; it buys stuff emulating the fantasy; and most importantly, it funnels money into the Wall Street casinos. The scripted narrative is profitable to everyone in the chain, from stakeholders to the corporate advertisers to the governments that tax the activity and its outcome.

As in the movie's Matrix, your scripted life is integral to the machine's survival. By chasing the next greatest gadget and the next greatest weekend high, you intravenously tap yourself into the belly of the beast. Yes, the rat race needs rats. The slaughterhouse needs lambs. Question is, are you willing to sell your soul for a weekend and television?

Removing Your Blindfold

Chapter 8 Hyperreality: Your Illusionary Captors

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines positioned beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of celebration, victory, or jumping in excitement.

After I sold my first company, I bought a red Corvette. At the time, I thought it was a unique car, rare among millions. Except it wasn't. My brain simply convinced me it was. As a proud new owner, I suddenly saw Corvettes everywhere. Women are annoyingly familiar with this phenomena: buy an expensive Louis Vuitton and hit the mall; suddenly every woman appears to own one.

This mental phenomenon is known as an observational bias, and it's a brain function known as your reticular activating system, or R.A.S. Your R.A.S has many critical functions, one being a filter. At any moment, your brain is swamped with billions of pieces of data. If you're reading this on a train, your brain is flooded by a barrage of sensory input: the people around you, their clothes, their look, the cute girl four seats up, the odor of the guy seated next to you, the sound of the tracks, the lighting in the cab, the seat against your butt, the discomfort of your suit—the list is endless. Because your brain must process these data, your R.A.S makes quick judgments about what it should and shouldn't see.

Once you're made aware of something, like owning a Corvette, your brain stops filtering Corvettes and filtered data are suddenly seen. My Corvette's cognitive distortion wasn't that they were more frequent on the road, it was my R.A.S no longer ignored them.

So what does your R.A.S have to do with the script? Well, since your R.A.S sees once it's made aware, awareness holds the key for transforming subconsciousness to reality.

The script's illusions flow through its seeders: media, family, educational institutions, and the rest. However, the script's real power isn't from its seeders; it is from the false realities cast by its seeders. And because your brain is überlazy and unaware of the falsities, you become complicit in the scheme. Yes, your brain, in its glorious attempt for efficiency, is largely undermining your ability to live an extraordinary life.

Because your brain deficiently perceives reality, what follows is a great cascade of false conclusions causing misguided beliefs. Misguided beliefs cause misguided actions. Misguided actions produce unwanted results. And unwanted results create dissatisfaction.

A dramatic life shift requires a dramatic mind shift. Right now, your lazy brain is a scripted ally. Once your R.A.S is nudged, the blindfold drops. scripted doctrine whitelists from your firewall, and suddenly actual reality becomes clear. This paves the way to rewriting injurious beliefs and social contracts not written in stone but written in reflective shadows.

Once your brain is exposed to the secrets behind a magician's tricks, the appearance of magic disappears. As does the magician's power to deceive.

The Script's Shadowed Conventions: Hyperreality

Misperceived reality is best hyperbolized in the ancient story, “The Allegory of the Cave,” by Greek philosopher Plato. The tale is about several prisoners held captive in a cave their entire lives. The prisoners are chained in such a way they cannot move their heads or legs, forced to forever stare at a cave wall. Behind them, a fire blazes high above.

Stationed behind the prisoners and in front of the fire is a depressed walkway and a parapet wall. On the walkway hidden behind the parapet, several puppeteers upcast various figurines, objects, and shapes, casting shadows on the prisoners' wall. The prisoners cannot see the puppeteers or the objects passing behind them, only their walled shadows.

Because these shadows are the only reality the prisoners know, they are misperceived as real and substantive, despite the reality that schemes behind them.

This ancient story told more than 2,000 years ago is just as relevant today.

You see, the script is also a collection of shadows, simulations, and cognitive distortions—a collection of authentic fakes and mental alchemy designed to keep us chained in a cave, mesmerized by a pseudo reality. And instead of shadows cast by puppeteers, the script has its seeders. The truth is, the script, you, I, and the entire civilized world revolve around a web of wizardry called hyperrealities.

Wikipedia defines hyperreality as the “inability of consciousness to distinguish reality from a simulation of reality, especially in technologically advanced postmodern societies.” Furthermore, a “hyperreality is seen as a condition in which what is real and what is fiction are seamlessly blended together so that there is no clear distinction between where one ends and the other begins.” In other words, we are interacting with simulations instead of truths.

For example, Las Vegas is a hyperreality. Each casino presents a hyperreal experience where you feel like a king, a pharaoh, or a sheik—at least as long as your money lasts. Unfortunately, scripted hyperrealities aren't as obvious as Las Vegas. Unless you activate your R.A.S and train your brain to *see* hyperreality, the scripted shadows are perceived as real. Awareness gates the bridge to defiance.

Conventional Illusions: The Script's 9 Hyperrealities

Nine primary hyperrealities underwrite the script, each culturally iconic. These are the fables of scripted doctrine. The weapons of mass distraction. The Jedi mind tricks. These hyperrealities surround our existence and cannot be avoided. Our goal is to swivel your head around from the cave wall, expose the reality behind the shadowed projections, and activate your R.A.S.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram. It features a central heading titled The Hyperrealities, under which various terms are listed, including named days, corporations, money, freedom, consumerism, virtual reality, entertainment, college degrees, and hyperpersonality. The arrangement suggests that these diverse social constructs, economic systems, and technological advancements are all categorized as examples of hyperrealities, implying that these elements represent simulated or artificial versions of reality that have come to replace the original experience.

Hyperreality #1: Named Days

I'm alone in darkness. As a stiff chill drafts my neck, I'm about to be scared out of my wits. It's Tuesday morning and I'm in a movie theater watching the newly released horror flick Saw. The theater is empty, not because the movie sucks but because everyone else is busy—busy trading life away in exchange for little pieces of paper called money. And ironically, while I piss my pants in fear for the next two hours, my business makes enough money to pay for the movie twentyfold. Meanwhile, outside the theater darkness lies the true horror of the day: Millions of people have killed their Tuesday and willfully postponed their life until the weekend. I'm not sure what's scarier, the mass murder of Monday through Friday or the murders in the movie I'm about to watch.

Long ago, your first day at school birthed the hyperreality “named days.”

Think “Monday through Friday” and what do you feel? Anguish? Maybe a little discomfort? How about the word “Saturday”？Or “Friday night”？

Named days order the week by titles, Monday through Sunday, carrying with it the implication that Monday starts work and Friday ends it, while the weekend reserves play. The fact is, named days are a hyperreality, one the industrialized world has perfected to perfection.

Beneath the named-days scheme is a man-made illusion your mind has made real—the illusion that your life's limited and precious time must be systematically segregated by days, with each day's title designating whether work or play is expected.

The truth behind the shadow? There is no celestial reason or natural phenomenon behind a seven-day week cycle. The Earth simply takes twenty-four hours to rotate on its axis, and the Earth has no idea if that rotation happens on Sunday or Thursday. If aliens orbited Earth, Monday through Sunday wouldn't be recognized. Nope, their supercomputers would identify one planetary rotation equals twenty-four hours and one revolution around the sun is another 365 twenty-four hour sequences.

For every creature on Earth, named days don't exist. Your dog Rex doesn't know the difference between a Sunday and a Tuesday, other than you might spend more time with him on Sunday. His Sunday *feels* exactly the same as a Monday.

The mathematics are real; named days are not. In other words, the entire scheme is an artificial interval to institute order. Monday is an illusion. Sunday equals Thursday. The Earth is indifferent, with the exception of one creature: humans.

Hyperreality #2: Consumerism

Consumerism is the myth that consumption can produce success or happiness. Despite that Vogue magazine, despite that Audi commercial, despite that banner ad, you are not what you own, but you can be owned by what you own.

If the script was a jail cell, consumerism and the debt it creates are its bars of incarceration. That house with the thirty-year mortgage, that car with the seven-year loan, that boat, and that degree—all backbreaking expenses that can paralyze your existence.

Consumerism, materialism, or “stuff” is the ubiquitous hyperreality that dominates the world's economic engine, and it will dominate yours if you cannot pierce its shadow.

Megacorporations spend trillions annually to create consumer hyperrealities—or in marketing speak, “brands”—all designed to communicate a fabricated perception. brand X says you're wealthy, brand Y says you're fashionable, and brand Z says you're rugged. If you drive a Toyota Prius, the advertised perception is practicality or thriftiness. A Lamborghini advertises “wealth,” which may or may not be factual.

When I bought my first Lamborghini, the hardest part of the purchase wasn't the price tag; it was succumbing to a hyperreality. From a utilitarian standpoint, a car gets you from point A to point B. My Lamborghini was 5 percent car and 95 percent hyperreality. But in the real world, people cannot make the distinction. For example, whenever I valed my hyperreality at a night club, I immediately bypassed the line and got into the club.

Had I driven my Toyota and valeted, I'd receive no such treatment. Nope, get to the end of the line, buddy! In the Lambo, I am presumed rich and noteworthy; in the Toyota, I wait with the rest of the proletariat.

Reality is ridiculously distorted. My car changes nothing about me—not my looks, height, or the nine bucks in my wallet—but it changes perception.

The consumer hyperreality cons the ladies as well.

See those expensive red-bottomed stilettos? Depending on who you ask, some will say you're classy. Affluent and stylish.

Visit some gossip blogs and they'll accuse you of being a well-paid escort. Whatever the message, it's not real but simply a crafted perception. Drop these prestigious brands in a post-apocalyptic world where survival is the priority and their influence is stripped down to utility. What's left is a means for transportation and an uncomfortable height-enhancing shoe.

Consumerism's job is to trick you into thinking utility is not enough. The off-brand jersey from Target won't do—you need the Nike. Instead of safely driving from point A to point B in a Honda, you need the Infiniti adorned in triple-stitched leather. The scripted seeders are spending trillions brainwashing us that utility is for chumps; we must also cast a shadowy statement. Just because you bought the most expensive basketball shorts at the pro shop doesn't mean you can dunk like LeBron. Consumer proxy doesn't change reality.

Hyperreality #3: A College Degree

My first day at college, I arrived late. My roommate (whom I never met until then) had already unpacked his side of the dorm room. On his wall hung a poster featuring a seaside mansion with a five-car garage filled with exotic cars. Above the garish picture in bold lettering was the statement "Justification for Higher Education." I laugh thinking about it now. The fact is, for most college grads, "higher education" is not getting them five-car garages but five figures of debt and a job waiting tables at the seaside diner.

The “college degree” hyperreality is two-pronged. First, it is the stale idea that intelligence and financial wealth require a college degree, regardless of cost, and more so, a life without one is forever underscored by underemployment and underachievement.

In a recent report, one of ten college graduates (graduates!) thought Judge Judy was on the Supreme Court. Intelligence? Similarly, a nonpartisan student group asked random Texas A&M students several basic history questions, such as “Who won the Civil War?” and “Who is the vice president?” Shockingly, all the students got some of the questions wrong, yet all of them knew who Brad Pitt's wife was. Even if these results are due to selective editing, the travesty can't be whitewashed: These institutions aren't educating our youth but instead creating scripted idiots.

The hallowed halls of academia no longer teach intelligence and common sense. Such critical survival skills have been swallowed by such crap as “Feminist Perspectives: Politicizing bee-yon-say” (thanks ebook3000 dot com)

Rutgers and “Critical Theory on Sexuality”.

As for success and/or financial wealth, think about the last three items you bought. Upon handing over your cash, did you ask the sales clerk if the inventor had a college degree? And if he did, what if it was a philosophy degree and not an engineering degree?

The last time you were at Walmart trolling the aisles and reading labels, did you look for a disclaimer revealing the manufacturer's college credentials? How about the last book you bought at Amazon? Before you clicked "Add to Cart," did you specifically check the writer's college transcripts?

The fact is, a college degree is not a prerequisite to consumption. You buy what you want without regard to credentials. But listen to scripted seeders and they'll warn otherwise. scripted authorities drill into our kids that success is a veritable improbability without a college degree. Political “think tanks” unleash report after report claiming mathematical truths: “People with college degrees earn more over their lifetime than their non-degreed counterparts.” #RollsEyes

For example, the latest such report came from the New York Federal Reserve in September 2014, where they indicated that a college degree is worth more than $300,000 over the graduate's life. First, this study used data beginning in 1970. That alone should make you chuckle.

Second, the report didn't indicate sampling. If you sample one hundred failing or below-average high school students who aren't going to college and compare them to one hundred well-adjusted B students who trail blaze to college, yeah, there's a statistical difference.

The fact is, students who perform well in high school are likely to go to college—the underperforming students typically don't and go into more vocational careers. The sampling bias in these studies is virtually impossible to eradicate unless researchers can persuade parents to keep their booksmart teens away from college.

And third, don't you find it unusual that the Federal Reserve, the money-printing arm of the government, has taken such a great interest in promoting college degrees? In fact, one look at their website and it seems they've devoted a lot of time to persuading citizens that college degrees are worth the price. Things that make you go hmm...

Another common college fallacy pops up on my forum every so often. When someone asks, “Should I go to college?” a parrothead is guaranteed to say “A degree is a good backup plan.” S.M.H #EnjoyBartending

Your degree as a “backup plan” is as good as a shovel in your garage. Just ask the millions of unemployed and underemployed graduates who are waiting tables just how strong that safety net is—about as thick as the paper the degree is printed on.

The college hyperreality's second prong is the notion that spending a fortune on a degree in whatever you're passionate about, say marine biology or astronomy, guarantees that there's a job waiting for you after graduation—and that your degree entitles you to it. When your parents asked you, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" no one said the likelihood of a job in that field was a long shot. As a parent, you nod your head, smile, and affirm that your kid can be anything he wants, despite market demand, economics, and a culture that has vilified job-creating businesses. But guess what? If there are no businesses and no entrepreneurs—society's redheaded whipping boys—there will be no jobs. Such an oxymoronic position is akin to loving babies but hating mothers.

The truth is, we're sending an entire generation of kids to college to earn degrees they can't use for jobs they can't get. Meanwhile, student-loan debt tops a trillion, collegiate coffers have enlarged to the point where football coaches are salaried in the millions, and thousands of well-educated youngsters are lined up at the job fair competing for jobs they could have gotten fresh out of high school.

Again, the reality is different from the hyperrealistic version. A college degree doesn't produce jobs out of thin air. It entitles you to nothing. I repeat, nothing.

My significant other is a nurse who recently had a good story exposing college's dual-pronged hyperreality. Her curse is working with surgeons and unwittingly hearing the intricate details about their lives. Anyhow, she noticed many aren't happy in the medical profession and yet are obstinately grooming their kids for the same existence.

She hears stories about prepubescent kids being shuffled into advanced pre-college studies. She hears stories of rigorous extracurricular, after-school schedules that end at supper and resume until bedtime. The doctors reason, "My child must score well on the S.A.T's and have a well-rounded entry application so he can get into a prestigious college."

Never once has she heard "this is what my kid wants." Do we really want our kids taking classes they hate so they can pursue a career they also will hate?

The hidden scripted agenda behind college is economic indebtedness—to get you enslaved into the nine-to-five “named-days” work cycle, regardless of cost, job economics, and circumstances. A college degree has been arrogated as a holy grail, an accolade no longer worthy of the title. Now, before you steam your panties, especially if you're an engineer, doctor, or attorney, let me be clear: I am not advocating that everyone skips college. A college degree reflects specific-practice knowledge.

For example, I recently had elbow surgery and my surgeon had extensive education. His degree(s) indicated minimum training, and yeah, I'm damn glad he had it. But here's the hook: I picked my surgeon not based on his college degree but based on peer recommendations and his existing track record. When twenty pro athletes—cumulatively earning more than $100 million a year—trust this surgeon, you've got the right one. A degree might get you in the door; performance gets you cooking in the kitchen.

The degree hyperreality is closest to truth in highly regulated fields, such as medicine, law, and engineering. Government mandates minimum standards, and yes, that's a good thing. However, the farther you move away from these fields and into more pedestrian endeavors, the college degree hyperreality grows more shadowy.

Simply put, people want what they want—and if you have what they want, they aren't going to care about your college days. If you're bleeding to death and need a tourniquet, you're not stopping the guy offering one and asking, "Wait a sec, didn't you fail Biology 101 at Arizona State?"

Hyperreality #4: Hyper-Personality

It's Saturday night in North Scottsdale and I'm eating dinner at a trendy Japanese restaurant. The venue is packed and excitement fills the air. In my day, places like this were called meat markets. In my sight line, adjacent to my corner table sit six beautiful young ladies, probably a generation or two after mine.

As the waitress shuffles between them, taking their chocolate martini and sake orders, it's clear this is a "girls' night out." Over the next hour, I witness just how prevalent—and sad—hyper-personality has become.

Before dinner, during dinner, and after dinner, not one, not several, but every woman at this table was preoccupied and smitten with her smartphone. It was as if the smartphone was being dined and real conversations with real friends was the distraction. Of course these ladies giggled and talked amongst themselves, but it was never a minute away from a smartphone peek, a keypad swaddle, or a social media selfie opportunity.

This story demonstrates how powerful hyper-personality has become, not just to young people, but to anyone with a smartphone glued to their face. Hyper-personality is a person's public image, a facade projected by fame or social media, a carefully crafted mirage that does not represent the real, humanized version of the individual.

In fame's case, the hyper-personality is often revered or worshiped. As such, their opinions are regarded as cult gospel. With social media, where individuals post the Photoshopped highlight reels of their life, the hyper-personality becomes an unreasonable and unsustainable capstone extrapolated from speciously curated snapshots of time. And in many cases like my girls-night story, the expression of the hyper-self becomes more important than the true self.

When renown is involved, the hyper-personality and its perception become the communicative front. For instance, would you believe I'm a hyperreality? When someone writes me and says, "You're my idol" or "You're a god!" (Yes, I've received email with those subject lines), they're perceiving and interacting with me as a hyper-personality, not the real me. Some fans think I have a crystal ball capable of predicting anything, anytime, anywhere. M.J, is this a good idea?

Should I drop out of college after three years? Such is the magic of hyper-personality, but again, such magic is an illusion.

When someone calls themselves a “guru,” they raise themselves to a hyper-standard, a perception of omnipotence. This is why I hate the word “guru.” I have no crystal ball or a super-success secret. While my odds might be better than the average Joe, they're not sure things. I fail at business, make mistakes, fart, trip down stairs, and make poor decisions. I am human, just like you.

Another example of hyper-personalities is famous personas.

Can you imagine Warren Buffett losing money? He makes bad investments. He is wrong on a lot of things. And yet, when the “Oracle of Omaha” speaks, people melt to their knees and lick the lint between his toes. Same goes when a famous face walks into a restaurant. People react as if they're seeing Elvis reincarnated. Oooohhhs, ahhhhhhs, followed by, ohh, the restaurant has comped your dinner.

Just like named days, these folks are hyperrealities, but they're no different from you. Celebrity perception is a Saturday. Yourself? Meh, a boring Tuesday. The fact is, they eat, breathe, and shit stinky poop, just like you. They get divorced, go bankrupt, make mistakes, and yes, they even pick their nose. They are human.

And yet the scripted worship these celebrities (and their opinions) to staggering levels of idolatry. It's actually frightening. For instance, in early September 2014, the Young America Foundation uncovered some disturbing data regarding hyper-personality. They took to the streets of George Washington University and interviewed random college students.

When asked about recent events involving a nude-photo hacking scandal, a shocking twenty-nine of thirty were able to identify one or more celebrities involved. Sadly, when asked to name which anniversary of a major national event was approaching (September 11), only six of thirty could do so. Worse, only four of thirty could name one of the journalists beheaded by isis in Iraq.

The media casts our biggest shadows. Because the media exalts hyper-personalities, they get treated differently than the scripted. When Ray Rice, the star running back for the Baltimore Ravens, was caught on video punching out his fiancé, he originally returned to the team. When he first took the field during preseason, fans cheered rabidly from the sidelines while knuckleheadedly sporting their Ray Rice jerseys. Such idiocy can only come from people jaggedly blinded by hyper-personality. Clearly, fantasy football points from running backs are more important than reality knockout points from wife sluggers.

Social media is another offender.

If hyper-personality was a day, it'd be Halloween, and social media the mask. With easily accessible social media tools—Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat—crafting our own fakery is so easy a caveman could do it. As a result, we've created a swath of people who have carefully crafted an illusion of importance that has systematically poisoned the will and desire to actually do the hard work that importance demands. By meticulously curating and photoshopping what we socially advertise, each of us becomes a powerful shadow caster, erecting a staged phantom while hiding the dirt underneath. By sharing only life's highlights and cloaking the rest, we cast a pseudo reality.

Sure, Becky's new Acura and the ten pictures Facebooked will certainly draw a horde of likes and comments, but know what isn't posted? Becky's coupon book with seventy-two payments at $500 a month, struck at 12 percent interest. And Joe's Caribbean vacation photos received ninety-two likes and thirty-two raving comments. Not shocking, Joe didn't post his last credit card statement, which paid for the trip, the one with the huge balance that will take twenty-two years to pay off because he can only afford the minimum payments.

Ever tried online dating? Welcome to hyper-personality—people post what they want to be, not what they actually are. Those smoking-hot pictures of Ryan, that guy you can't wait to meet tonight? He's a Photoshop expert and has cleverly twiddled away thirty pounds of fat, right after using the blur tool, erasing unsightly wrinkles aging his face.

What's advertised on social media smoking our smokescreens is a fabrication. If you're using it as a measuring stick for peer comparison, fluffy white clouds will go dark, leaving you feeling unworthy and depressed. So, the next time a stranger posts "lifestyle" photos on Instagram and you feel a tinge of insecurity, try remembering these people don't give one fuck about you. Nope, zero fucks are given.

And yet, you care about them? Hyper-personality has you dwelling on the lives of others, instead of dwelling on your own.

Hyperreality #5: Virtual Reality

Virtual reality is a captivating and addictive simulation of an alternate reality exploiting a series of enticement heuristics: competition, goal achievement, faux improvement, and positive feedback loops. Virtual reality (V.R), much like its sibling hyper-personality, plays on our desires to feel worthy and respected—while doing so with comfort and ease, void of risk and public humiliation.

Video games (Xbox, PlayStation), online realities (Minecraft, Second Life), and mobile gaming (Angry Birds, Game of War, and Pick My Nose) are V.R examples that millions choose over reality. okay, I made up Pick My Nose, but that's how ridiculous this crap has become. The numbers for Minecraft sales are a staggering fifty-four million copies—that's nearly the entire population of Italy or 1,100 Yankee Stadiums jam-packed with fans.

The V.R predilection is so disturbing that in 2014, Business Insider reported that Kim Kardashian's mobile game was grossing over 700,000 per day.

Holy fuckery.

Of course, such fuckery couldn't escape my investigation as I wondered, “What the hell do people do on a Kim Kardashian game that warranted the movement of 21 million dollars per month?” Well...they buy fake purses, fake clothes, and fake jewelry so they can achieve some sort of fake V.I.P status. Yeah, hyperrealities within hyperrealities. Folks, you can't make this shit up. (Although it was later reported she *only* made 100 million dollars on the game, darn, fire the maid!)

Virtual reality's allure and subsequent grip emerges by tickling your feedback loop while simultaneously playing to your lazy brain. Using a psychological laundry list of addiction tactics, virtual reality mesmerizes us with faux rewards, flimsy achievements, shallow confidence, and various other digital enticements. Your brain is then stimulated with a forged positive reinforcement loop. Worse, it's stimulated with little or no effort. Why hit the dojo every day for black-belt training when you can just sit on the couch, grab some Cheetos, and press the on button?

There's a war for your mind and your money. Unchecked and unaware, your brain laps it up like a thirsty dog. Once hooked, it lays the groundwork for behavioral responses that border on the insane: camping out on sidewalks, declining nights out with friends because you just gotta hit that next level; or ebook3000 dot com worse, letting it become the most important thing in your life—because it is your life. Take this comment reported by a forum user:

I was at a party once with a guy who spent half the night checking his phone just to make sure his Clash of Clans army was being built on time. W.T.F!

The script has armed virtual reality with all the latest psychological weaponry hoodwinking you into a state of entertained distraction—so entertainingly distracted that you share your addiction on Facebook. Which reminds me...for the love of God, stop sending me game requests. No, I'm not interested in helping you build your fake farm, your fake army, or your fake city. But I am interested in unfriending you.

Anyhow, the problem with virtual reality is not entertainment. I love playing a good first-person shooter every so often. The problem is when it goes beyond entertainment and virtual life supplants real life. Know anyone like that?

Make life your game: you acquire experience points, gold, money, cars, assets, liabilities; you weigh decisions, act, not act, solve problems, and overall, manage yourself as a player. And yet, instead of seeing life as a game to be won, the script has confiscated your player avatar and made you the one to be gamed.

Hyperreality #6: Entertainment

The entertainment hyperreality is an emotional or intellectually irrational investment in an entertainment format—sports, television, movies—where the investment becomes either an impassioned part of your identity or an erroneous belief about reality.

Like many, I enjoy watching sports as much as playing them. In particular, I'm a big N.F.L guy. However, I'm not so big into it that it's an impassioned piece of my identity.

In early 2016, the Arizona Cardinals (my hometown team) got slaughtered in the N.F.C Championship game. I was upset for about ninety-seconds. I didn't cry or beat up my girlfriend. And I certainly didn't lose any sleep over it.

At the end of the day, the game was just entertainment. I have zero emotional attachment to the outcome because my life is more important.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for most folks, where entertainment is an escape and a medium for meaning. Scan the bleachers after a devastating loss and you'll see people sobbing their eyes out like a Hummer ran over their puppy. Such emotional fallouts are compliments of the entertainment hyperreality—an irrational emotional investment into something where it becomes wired into your identity.

Going back to that Cardinals game, when the defeated team returned to Phoenix, two fans greeted them at the airport. One of them actually had a Cardinal Super Bowl 50 logo tattooed on his forearm. This is an extreme case where entertainment has completely consumed a life. I wonder...how much meaning does life lack if your forearm is tattooed with a sporting event that will be forgotten three weeks later?

Oh, and ever listen to the clowns commenting on sports radio? “Duh, I think Coach Bill Belichick should have passed more and ran Tom Brady on more bootlegs....” Oh really? I'm sorry, and who are you? Oh yeah, just some random peabrain who's never played football in his life. Please grace us with your opinion.

And my favorite. After a team wins or loses, the all-inclusive use of “we”—as if you are a part of the team and contributed to their performance. “Duh, we really played well last night and I think next week will be a really tough game for us.”

We? Us? Since when did the New England Patriots put pizza-eating plumbers on the payroll for lounging in the recliner while watching a game? You don't belong to a team because you homestead in a geographic area. Just ask any St. Louis Rams fan.

This same type of irrational attachment happens with movies and television.

Did you see the long-awaited Star Wars: The Force Awakens? You probably loved it, like most of the world. I thought it sucked ass. And I'm a big Star Wars fan. Heck, my books pop Star Wars lines often.

But in the case of The Force Awakens, I watched it like any other movie: from a cinematic and plot perspective. How good is the story? Is the “science fiction” believable with respect to science? I didn't let emotional investments sway me from honesty.

From a story angle (not to mention science), it was just a plot retreat with zero scientific believability. Youthful nostalgic emotions didn't cloud my honesty. Seriously, if the sun was sucked dry in the Star Wars universe, life on Earth would go on as if nothing happened. I can suspend disbelief, not my entire brain.

Anyhow, I know this sounds like I'm a curmudgeon who doesn't like fun, but that wouldn't be true. I love entertainment—it just isn't woven into my life's purpose. That's important, because I've been there when it was. I've wasted too much precious time on this shit—time I'll never get back.

When I was younger, I medicated my dissatisfaction in every episode from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra! There! Are! Five! Lights! My apologies to non-Trekkies, but the obsession bordered on the ridiculous as I still remember this crap twenty-five years later! Likewise during the nineties, the Chicago Bulls had Michael Jordan and the television had me. I never missed a game. I got angry and depressed after losses, punched walls, and spent fortunes on N.B.A shirts—yeah, I was emotionally invested like it actually impacted my life. It was so bad I scheduled my world around it. Date with a gym hottie? Nope, raincheck—Jordan is battling Patrick Ewing tonight.

If yin is the emotional side of the entertainment hyperreality, then yang is intellectual irrationality.

For instance, thanks to Hollywood scriptwriting, are you one of millions who believe that a Macintosh PowerBook computer, circa 1996, can save the world from an alien race that has traveled trillions of miles across the galaxy? Independence Day, 1996. Heck, in Batman Begins, apparently the standard for achieving superhero status is simply a few pull-ups in a subterranean prison. Watch a dozen Hollywood comedies and you'll think you're superhuman.

You can have unprotected sex with old flames, strangers at truck stops, and hookers in Harlem and yet be totally immune from herpes, chlamydia, or unplanned pregnancy. Commandeer a police cruiser in Las Vegas, skydive off the roof of a casino, and even commit felony breaking and entering, and by golly, there are no consequences—just shifts and giggles.

These hyperrealities are so powerful that youngsters imitate and decide careers based on them. Compliments of the hit T.V show C.S.I, most high schoolers actually think crime scene investigators interrogate suspects and routinely get into gun battles down at the marina. As a result, the demand for C.S.I degrees has more than doubled.

And then there's reality television.

How long can the travesty continue before the zombies figure out these shows aren't real? Cleverly edited and stoked for ratings, reality T.V is about as real as the breasts at a pricey Vegas night club. All of it dramatic illusion, but most believing it's a legitimate microcosm of life. In a 2014 article on Deadspin dot com, Floyd Mayweather actually confesses to the Nevada State Athletic Commission that his reality T.V show All Access is completely fake.

Scenes, manufactured and scripted. That marijuana joint? ebook3000 dot com Fake. That thirty-one-minute-long bout? Fake.

I think YouTube is different? Those funny videos with millions of views? Fake. One regrettable look at the comments reveals people are clueless. Many of these life portraits are more shadowed manipulations on the wall, nebulous realities, and clever Photoshops making us more malleable to the script and less malleable to the real world.

Hyperreality #7: Money

Money.

It's why you're probably reading this book. Give a hundred-dollar bill a good stare. Note your feelings.

Feel a tinge of freedom? Choices, power, or security? While these feelings might be real, their origins are based on another mirage. Money, the world's dominant hyperreality, is a mutually shared belief that physical money (a stack of paper bills) or virtual digital money (a number on a computer screen) is valuable and that the person possessing it is equally valuable.

In ancient cultures, such value expressions could be feathers in a headdress, a tribal age, the size of a flock, or the number of emerald stones possessed. The object is irrelevant; it's only valuable because our society mutually agrees it is. In essence, it's a worthless shred of paper with pictures of dead guys. Or it's pixels, a digitized number on a computer screen. In either case, our culture has universally agreed that these representations hold transactional value, just like we believe Monday is for work and Saturday is for play.

The next time you're watching a post-apocalyptic movie, note how hyperrealities fall apart. Paper money becomes worthless and used as toilet paper. Fuel becomes better than gold.

For example, in the 1992 movie Waterworld, one of the worst movies ever made, dirt becomes a currency. In The Book of Eli, water and books are valued commodities. And of course, named days disappear—every day is another day to survive.

Unfortunately, if the belief (or the system upholding it) crumbles, so does the hyperreality. History has countless examples of money becoming kindling for the bonfire: the Zimbabwe dollar, the Weimar mark, and the Hungarian pengo are just a few. Iceland even flirted with such disasters as recently as a few years ago. Money is just another shadow on a cave wall, a projection agreeably accepted as real.

Hyperreality #8: Freedom

Joseph Goebbels, the minister of propaganda for Nazi Germany and history's biggest liar, knew big lies needed repeating to be believed. The repetition created a consensus fallacy—the idea that if many people believe something, some position, or some ideology, it must be true. Consensus fallacies are how common ideas escape critical thinking and become hyperrealities, such as Earth is the center of the universe.

The most fraudulent hyperreality running rampant in the First World is freedom itself—the perception that we come into this world free and unencumbered, a sovereign person born with inalienable rights that cannot be co-opted, confiscated, or subjugated by any laws, customs, or beliefs.

Not true. Not for you, me, or anyone else.

The truth is, we are livestock. Hosts for a diabolical purpose. Free-range slaves. Like free-range chickens, we roam free in our container (a country), provided the illusion of freedom, but we are still held captive for our eggs—our economic impact. If you leave, you need permission (a visa) and your leave is limited to whatever the visiting container (country) allows, usually ninety days.

You see, ever since your parents signed your birth certificate, you've become government collateral. Corporatized by our country, we're not sovereign individuals free from governance, we're corporations— corporations subject to taxation, regulation, registration, licensing, and a whole host of authoritative mandates. You, the corporation, are owned by the government. Everything you own, and everything I own, is also owned by the government.

Yes, you read that right. Everything. And the script? It's merely the custodian of the collateral through its hyperrealistic advancement through childhood indoctrination, commercialization, media manipulation, and social engineering. Now, I realize this borders on conspiracy-theorist screed, but I assure you everything is incontrovertible fact as much as the sun setting in the west.

With scripted doctrine fully entrancing the populace, unquestioned and undoubtedly, your government enjoys lifetime benefits through your corporate self's economic output in the form of labor and consumption. This drives taxation and/or dependent constituents who love voting as much as they do consuming. And with an unlimited supply of voting and consuming human collateral, the government can continue to print money today to pay off printed money yesterday. Perhaps this is why the Federal Reserve is so interested in promoting “a college degree is worth $20 gazillion.”

Money truly is no longer backed by gold but backed by blood—you—and the script administrates the chattel. In 1933, President Franklin Roosevelt paved the way for currency backed by human collateral over physical collateral, such as gold. When you hear the phrase, “backed by the full faith and credit of the U.S Government,” what you're really hearing is, “backed by United States citizens.” Our money system is financed on our backs, and the script keeps fish in the pond while the collateral fattens the system. And while we're technically *free* to make choices, we're not really *free* in terms of sovereignty.

I realize these are quite the leaps. Enslaved over free? Everything I own is not really mine?

Thankfully you don't need to believe it because, frankly, most won't. And that's okay because you don't need to buy the slave argument to win the unscripted life. This section (or this book) isn't about sovereignty, straw-man personas, the fiat banking system, or some argument about birth certificates as it pertains to admiralty law. It's about taking the blindfold off and asking the tough questions.

Like, if confiscating 100 percent of your economic output constitutes slavery, at which point does it cease to be slavery? 80 percent? 50 percent? 39.6 percent?

So here's the candid truth about freedom and the stuff we think we own.

In 2014, I paid cash for a house in beautiful Fountain Hills, Arizona. I own it free and clear, with no mortgage or bank involvement. Liberating, eh? But the truth is, I really don't own it. The government has given me equitable title, which means I'm free to *use* it as long as I play by their rules. In effect, my home is leased from the government (the State of Arizona) and my yearly property taxes are the lease payment.

If I refuse to pay my property taxes, the state will repossess what seemingly is mine. And the amount of the delinquency is immaterial—twenty bucks or twenty-thousand, it doesn't matter. Don't pay and say bye-bye to your crib. Heck, in Pennsylvania, a woman lost her house when it sold at auction for an unpaid six-dollar tax bill!²³

Ownership? Not exactly.

The same holds true for your car. Cancel your insurance, your driver's license, and remove your license plate. How long will it take before you are pulled over, arrested, and your car towed?

In my birth state of Illinois, you'd last about thirteen minutes. Licensing is simply a co-opted freedom sold back to you by your friendly neighborhood bureaucrat.

Here is another story exposing the freedom hyperreality. After I moved, my mail got mixed up and was not forwarded. As a result, I underpaid my state tax and the account went delinquent.

By the time I heard about the underpayment, the State of Arizona was threatening asset seizure. Here is the exact verbiage from their personal love letter to me, known as the Final Demand before Enforced Collection: shook3000 dot com.

The Department of Revenue is preparing to take action against you. These actions might include tax liens and/or the levy or seizure of your bank account, wages, and other assets.

Oh, and the amount I underpaid? A whopping $144.78—the current price tag for having your life confiscated.

Things aren't any better at the federal level. Stop paying your income taxes and have tea ready for the I.R.S. Take a spin on the tax roulette wheel and see how long it takes to have assets and bank accounts seized. Every year, the U.S Department of the Treasury holds approximately 300 public auctions. Here are the Treasury Department's exact words, from its website:

We sell property forfeited as a result of violations of federal law enforced by the Department of the Treasury or nonpayment of Internal Revenue Service taxes. A wide variety of merchandise is available, including automobiles, aircraft, boats, real estate, jewelry, electronics, wearing apparel, industrial equipment, and miscellaneous goods.

Again, all facts—not anti-government conspiracy rhetoric. Everything you own, from your diamond wedding ring to that hideous Affliction shirt you shouldn't be wearing, is available for repossession. Don't play by the rules sustaining the scripted system, and watch freedom disappear.

Sovereignty is an illusion. Liberty is free-range. Of course unscripted is not about dodging taxes or driving without car insurance. We simply seek to understand and legally acknowledge the game, while learning how to avoid it.

Hyperreality #9: Corporations

Enron. Worldcom. Comcast. Monsanto. Goldman Sachs.

These corporations likely gut a negative response. And yeah, it's probably well deserved. Surf Reddit for a few minutes and you'll find there's no love lost for the world's primary business formation, the corporation.

In 2011, on H.B.O's Real Time with Bill Maher, senator and presidential candidate Bernie Sanders said, “Corporations are not people.” Likewise, Elizabeth Warren cheered in her senatorial campaigns the tried-and-true populous claptrap, “Corporations are not people!” And of course the sheep gave it booming applause.

Such corporate contempt from the political establishment with regard to corporations usually involves two things: (1) its “personhood” in the eyes of the law; and (2) its electoral and legislative influence of elections through special-interest lobbying and political action committees P.A.C's, compliments of the Citizens United Supreme Court ruling. Both arguments have merit, as corporate cash-mucking elections and legislative processes aren't really good things. Nonetheless, their primary thesis, “Corporations are not people,” is entirely false—both in the eyes of the law and in their unadulterated form. Underneath this erroneous worldview is another hyperreality: the perception that corporations are evil, faceless, monolithic superstructures born from nothingness and responsible for every sin in the free world.

The reality? Underneath the corporate veil, cranking the gears, aren't monkeys, robots, or artificial intelligence but people: managers, employees, corporate executives, and shareholders. And these people are capable of every sin imaginable. Corporations are evil and greedy? No, people are evil and greedy!

Think of it this way: If an errant drive-by shooting strikes you in the leg while walking the dog, who are you angry at? The car? Or the people in the car shooting? The car is directed by its occupants, just like a corporation.

Corporate distrust is warranted, but the guile is displaced. Moving down the corporate chain, shareholders elect the executives. And those shareholders aren't bigwigs living in ivory towers; they're common people investing for retirement: husbands, wives, Grandma and Grandpa. Your landscaper. Your bartender. They all link the corporate chain and they probably don't know it.

Log on to your E-Trade account and buy a share of Apple Corporation. Congratulations, you, already a corporation, are now a part of another corporation, a shareholder, who gets a vote on directing corporate policy. Anyone who owns a stock, pension shares, I.R.A's, or retirement funds is entangled in the corporate system! When Grandma invests her pension into an E.T.F or a mutual fund, she is buying corporate shares that make business decisions to the benefit of Grandma shareholder. And when Grandma's shares appreciate, she's happy and bakes peach cobbler.

As for corporate ancestry, humans give birth to them and the process is entirely gender neutral. Human corporations birth corporate corporations. Behind these corporations are multiple faces who dictate policy, and such policy merely flows downstream.

Including my corporate self, I own four other corporations. If you buy a book from my corporation and decide it's stinking garbage and want a refund, you get your money back, no questions asked, because I decided that to be the policy. My corporation is neither altruistic nor greedy. The law says it's separate and its own person; however, it's really just a paper filing with the state, one executing my desires.

The ultimate proof that corporations reflect owner beliefs and/or intent came from the landmark Supreme Court case Burwell v. Hobby Lobby. In this case, a Christian-owned business refused to comply with health-care mandates involving contraception. The court ruled the owners of closely held companies could project their beliefs onto their corporation. Once again, don't get mad at the car—get mad at the people driving the car.

So the next time the jackasses at Comcast treat you like trash, Comcast the corporation is not treating you poorly; it's management—people—who are treating you poorly, starting at the top. Somebody decided you were less important than profit. Somebody decided you get shitlisted while “That's not our policy” is the answer to your problem.

You see, corporations are people, and the corporation is just another shadow on a cave wall. Shadows are not this issue—it's the people casting them.

Image summary: This figure is a textual and illustrative graphic. It contains a chapter heading titled Temporal Prostitution: Trading Good Time for Bad, accompanied by a simplified human figure with arms raised in a celebratory or triumphant posture. The image suggests a conceptual exploration of the trade-off between quality and quantity of time, implying a critical view of sacrificing valuable time for less desirable outcomes.

Chapter 9 Temporal Prostitution: Trading Good Time for Bad

Sell Youthful Time Now; Buy Elderly Time Later

In finance, “the time value of money” is as fundamental as salt and pepper are to cooking. The gist of “time value” is that money today is more valuable than money Tomorrow. When these calculations are made, future money is discounted and valued less. This is why $10,000 today is more valuable than $11,000 ten years from now.

So why is Time not discounted the same way?

This misuse of time value rolls out the red carpet for our last and crowning hyperreality, which frames the two scripted O.S life-paths: temporal prostitution—the subordination of time to money; the presumption that time is unlimited and can be fecklessly traded, squandered, and dishonored, while money is piously coveted as a limited resource.

Image summary: This figure is a text-based graphic label. It contains a header titled The Life Paths and a main body text that reads Temporal Prostitution. The image identifies a specific category or concept within a broader framework of life paths, suggesting that temporal prostitution is one of several possible trajectories or roles.

Like most scripted hyperrealities, the truth has been blissfully whitewashed. While time's infinite existence might have a spiritual truth to it, mortality changes the science. Once our limited existence is plotted atop an unending string of time, time becomes hyperreal, neither infinite nor abundant. This self-deception makes commodifying time acceptable, like a worthless trinket bought and sold at a swap meet.

Philosophically, what is time to you? An age measurement? A way to keep appointments? Unfortunately, time is merciless and it doesn't care how you define it, how you see it, or how you treat it. It's the undisputed killing champion of the world, racking up over a hundred billion wins and zero losses. No army and no earthly disaster can claim the same. You can't escape time's ravenous siphon, and yet everyone merrily pisses it away without hesitation.

At its core, your existence feeds on time just like food and water. Life is rationed by time. Like cotton weaves a shirt or water fills a pool, your life rations embody the breadth of your existence. Nonrefillable and nonrefundable, time is a fuel tank that perpetually burns, permanently sealed from measurement or manipulation. And while your total life rations are unknown, their daily dispensaries are not.

Each of us is gifted with twenty-four hours or 86,400 seconds per day. No one gets more; no one gets less. How you honor (or dishonor) these life rations marks the difference between being further entrenched into scripted dogma or escaping it.

For instance, know anyone who spends most of their free time in front of a video game? How about the poor sap who spends two hours waiting in line for a free hamburger? Few people explicitly work for three bucks per hour, but give them a freebie or a savings opportunity at that same rate and you'll have tents lined around the building. Do you think billionaires are pissing their time away on a blog, arguing with strangers on the other side of the country about how some fictional H.B.O character shouldn't have been killed off?

Temporal prostitution is one of the greatest tragedies of humanity.

My first temporal-prostitution “W.T.F moment” was a job I had at Sears Roebuck as a five-dollar-per-hour stock clerk in the drapery department. Talk about a sixteen-year-old's nightmare. I was probably the only teenager in the world who could carry on a conversation about valances.

Anyhow, Ed Guerro was my crotchety supervisor who was your classic hawkeyed micromanager. He demanded perfection and cursed everything I did: the towels are folded wrong; those toasters aren't stacked properly; or my favorite, if you need to piss, wait for lunch or piss your pants.

It was at Sears where I learned that in order to make $500, I had to swap one hundred hours of my life, and swap them under the constant surveillance of Ed Guerro.

This was important. Back then, my hobby was car stereos, and a 300-watt Rockford Fosgate amplifier with a $500 price tag had my interest. My audio system, already amped and stacked with dual twelve-inch subwoofers, shook the street with thunderous force. My neighbors hated me, and I salted their anger by not rocking to Neil Diamond but to 2 Live Crew. However, in my rebellious mind, they didn't hate me enough. My shit needed to thump harder, and that new Fosgate amplifier would, indeed, volumize the thumpings.

But there was a problem...

I hated my job.

And I hated Ed.

This was a watershed moment because I noticed trading time for money sucked, but it also held another truth few grasp: The things I wanted, specifically my amp, really didn't cost money; they cost me fragments of my life. The price tag for my amplifier wasn't $500; it was one hundred hourly life rations joyously spent with dickhead Ed. Suddenly, a few extra decibels of bass didn't seem worth it.

The life-ration concept is uniquely demonstrated in the 2011 movie In Time. In the movie, humans have their forearms timestamped with a countdown death clock, which ticks toward the end of life. With a quick glance, anyone can see how many life rations they have left to breathe. In this dystopia, work is not paid with money but with more life rations—time added onto your death clock. Working one day might earn you two. While the movie wouldn't win an Oscar, it exposed some great revelations with respect to how we use our time.

First, just because your death clock isn't visibly stamped on your forearm doesn't mean it isn't there. Like air, it exists—you just can't see it. This invisible time bomb perpetually ticks toward death, bleeding every second of your life's rations. And nothing can stop it—not the $4 million you saved for the last forty years, not your M.B.A, not your granite countertops. We are relentlessly pursued by time with death as its final goal. It has no mercy and often, has no just cause.

So ask yourself.

If a death clock suddenly became visible and advertised your life rations for easy viewing, say your smartphone, would you spend your time differently? Would you be okay sitting at a desk five days a week, doing a job you hated? Would you spend two days camped outside at Best Buy, hoping to save two hundred bucks on a curved television?

How about buying into a financial scheme that promised freedom only after 90 percent of your life's rations have bled dry? And more importantly, what's remaining time on your death clock would deliver the much-needed head smack that screamed, "O.M.G, my life is too precious to be squandered on a sidewalk waiting to save ten bucks." Six weeks? Months? Years?

Second, under scripted rule, how many life rations are you trading today to earn freedom tomorrow? When we project the same “time value of money” principle to time, we come to the same conclusion: Free time today is better than free time tomorrow. Youthful time sold today (working five days a week) so you can buy elderly time later (retirement in your twilight) is a bad bet.

Think how ridiculous this is. You work Monday through Friday, or you spend five life rations just so you can earn two. Five for two. Would you accept this negative rate of return in the financial world?

Hey, invest five life rations and I'll give you two back as payment? Oh and B.T.W, you won't get back your original investment. Remember, time spent can never be reclaimed or refilled, so it's {not} an interest payment; it's an immediate loss of principal and a dismally negative rate of return.

Gone means gone. In the In Time world, negative returns wouldn't fly; no one would work because it pays better not to! And yet, in our invisible-death-clock world, it's perfectly accepted.

In the end, our fate is sealed. However, what isn't sealed is the type of time you can enjoy among your life rations. Within your time bank, there are two time types you can manipulate: (1) free time and (2) indentured time.

Free time is the time you own, and it's the only time that's important. No one has a claim on it. You do what you want: sleep in, write, read, whatever warms your heart. Follow scripted protocol and you're locked into a shitty deal where free time is automatically presumed to exist only on the weekends, at least until retirement at some godforsaken age a gazillion years later. Retirement might as well mean "the flash of free time before I die."

Conversely, indentured time is time someone else owns: school, studying, work, traffic, your biz, etcetera So if your workday consists of nine hours at the office, two hours in traffic, two hours in dress/undress, and one hour in unwind time, how much free time do you really have? Assuming eight hours for sleep, add up the work-related time, and your free time amounts to a pitiful two hours per day for a workday. Effective use of your life's rations?

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised upwards and outwards, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Under temporal prostitution, the things you buy cost more than just money—they cost future fragments of your life, transforming Free time into Indentured time.

Consider this: Two lives, Bob and M.J, each equally granted seventy-five years of life. Both get the standard twenty-four-hour day. The difference between the two is how time is honored or dishonored. Bob invests his life's work in a system where time is prostituted. He experiences sixty-three years of indentured time while enjoying only twelve years of free time: three health-challenged years after retirement and nine years in his lazy youth. He never writes that book he dreamed of. He never scuba dyevs in the Caribbean because his cardiologist recommended against it. He never took that two-month Mediterranean cruise. He never watched his son win the lacrosse championship. Never, never, and never.

But hey, don't worry—he's saved quite the portfolio and was featured on Business Insider's front page as a model for portfolio wealth; never mind that he destroyed one wealth in pursuit of another. Live poor and die rich. It's scriptably diabolical.

M.J, on the other hand, invests his life's work in a system that honors time. He experiences twenty-three indentured years while enjoying a whopping forty-two years of free time, mostly experienced after he retired in his thirties. "Never" is not in his vocabulary, but "when," "where," and "how" are.

Who do you think will have lived a life rich in experiences: friendship, art, travel, contribution, and spiritual fulfillment? When the life rations drip their last drip and the death clock taps the grim reaper on the shoulder, what will your human spirit resonate—regret, or peace?

Image summary: This figure consists of two pie charts. The charts compare the distribution of time between free time and indentured time under two different scenarios labeled as scripted and our objective. In the scripted scenario, indentured time occupies the vast majority of the circle, while free time represents a small fraction. Conversely, in the objective scenario, free time dominates the majority of the circle, and indentured time is significantly reduced. The inference is that the goal is to shift the balance of life to maximize free time and minimize indentured time.

Temporal prostitution is the path to the dark side, and it doesn't require a throaty mask—but it does have an evil emperor. Allow the script to write the rules and you'll accept the worst trade mankind has ever foisted on intelligent beings: the horrendous “sell good time today so you can buy bad time tomorrow,” where 71 percent of your adult life is routinely dismissed in favor of an elderly promise called retirement.

O.M.F.G!

And people lap this crap up like it's raining lottery tickets during a prosperity gospel. Only temporal prostitution perfected by the scripted O.S can lipstick the worst travesty of humankind and make it as routine as a daily shower.

Chapter 10 The Life Paths: Two Doors, One Slaughterhouse, No Difference

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding a small flag in one hand, with motion lines beneath the feet indicating upward movement. The image conveys a sense of victory, achievement, and excitement.

The Illusion of Choice: Who Will Be Your Slavemaster?

Temporal prostitution is the escort. Holding your hand with a wink and a smile, it leads to one of two doors, a scripted offer you can't refuse. Two choices where two paths lead to two different lives.

Both paths promise happiness, but don't be fooled. It's another scripted illusion diabolically engineered to keep you on the path to M.O.D.E.L. Citizenship. You see, no matter which door you choose, their roads converge to the same regretful destination riddled in deferred dreams, lifelong work, and broken promises. Your choice is meaningless because both choices lead directly into the scripted slaughterhouse.

Getting to choose your leash and the slaveowner who pulls it, still makes you a slave.

Once you expose the life paths and determine which one applies to your life, you can better plan your escape.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram in the shape of an inverted triangle. The diagram is titled The Life Paths and is divided into sections, with the top section labeled Temporal Prostitution and the bottom section split into two paths identified as Door number one Sidewalk and Door number two Slowlane. The structure suggests a progression or a choice, where a broad initial state leads to a narrowing set of alternative directions. It can be inferred that the diagram represents a philosophical or metaphorical decision tree where an individual moves from a general condition of time-based labor toward specific, divergent life trajectories.

Door #1: The Sidewalk (Trade Tomorrow for Today)

The Path: The Sidewalk

The Promise: Happiness through consumption

The Leash: Consumption and entitlement

The Collar: Debt and dependence

The Slavemaster: Corporations and/or government

The Rat Race: Consume, debt, work (or vote), repeat

The “Pay for It Later” Culture

Know anyone living large, and yet they're always complaining about money? You know the type, friends who forget their wallet and can't pay their restaurant tab? Or worse, they order five glasses of wine, and yet they want to evenly split the bill though you drank nothing? Welcome to Door #1, the Sidewalk. For the unknowing masses, it's an attractive red-carpeted causeway; for the script, it's the carotid artery right into the M.O.D.E.L. Citizen slaughterhouse.

Anyone can be a Sidewalker: lawyers, cashiers, entrepreneurs, truck drivers, doctors, engineers, the McDonald's manager and the cashier he manages. The Sidewalk is an equal-opportunity meat grinder, immune to race, education, achievements, titles, and income. The path to the Sidewalk has only one prerequisite: Live to consume.

The Sidewalk is the script's paycheck-to-paycheck, pay-for-it-later plan, promising happiness through consumption, both material acquisition and hyperrealistic assimilation. In return for temporary, short-lived comfort—the financed car, the vacation to Tahiti, the trendy wardrobe, the nights on the town in the V.I.P section—the future is forsaken for fleeting thrills, which must be repaid tomorrow by longer lurches of pain. The Sidewalk is much like that old drinking quote: “When you drink more than you should, you're just borrowing happiness from tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, “tomorrow” is continually postponed until the pain compounds into an inescapable work mandate. Or worse, you become just another government-greased serf, whose vote can be bribed with the mere mention of “free stuff” just so long as someone else pays for it.

The common thread among Sidewalkers is they always live “one something” from broke: one paycheck, one business deal, one gig, one album failure, one welfare check, one contract. Unrestrained spending is often justified with cutesy acronyms, such as yolo, T.G.I.F, or F.M.L. Unfortunately, yolo's price doesn't live once; it lives and grows on your Visa card.

As such, a Sidewalker has no financial plan other than a relentless pursuit of cash to fund a lifestyle built on credit and yesterday's paycheck. And since a Sidewalker's financial plan is about as real as Santa Claus in mid-June, the fiscal future becomes a tenuous gamble reliant on guaranteed employment, government entitlements, and unlikely “easy money” crapshoots: casino gambling, lottery tickets, frivolous lawsuits, and various other free-money fairy tales.

Take for example the bankrupt athlete who earned over $50 million during his career. How could he go broke? Again, when consumption is life's banner, it's like being tailed by a hungry bear who drinks time and eats money. And once the real career fizzles, the consumption bear catches up.

This is what makes Sidewalkers unique. They can be impoverished apartment dwellers or seemingly affluent suburban homeowners. The script doesn't care about gilded cages. Net income is merely a speed dial on the hedonic treadmill, a ticket for instant gratification and consumption—whatever is earned is spent.

Time isn't safe either.

Temporal prostitution is a way of life. Always needing to work and always loathing the obligation, Sidewalkers routinely waste time in superfluous hyperrealistic proxies: sports, television dramas, Internet comment wars. You see, the Sidewalker doesn't play the game of life; he spectates. He comments. He opines. He heckles the million-dollar athlete from the cheap seats. Culturally plugged in, Sidewalkers can shoot the shit by the water cooler for hours, dispensing a wide variety of opinions: who the Dallas Cowboys should have drafted; how George R.R. Martin should have written Game of Thrones; and how dare Showtime cancel Dexter? Instead of being the best he can be, the Sidewalker aspires to be the best copy of someone else: an athlete, a famous person, a fictional character, or some other person not annexed by the script.

Consumption, Corporations, and Debt, Oh My!

Bottom line, walk through Door #1 and you will be leashed by consumption, collared by debt, and owned by corporations. Simply put, your stuff owns you.

This “stuff” could be your mortgage, your car loan, your credit card debt, your addiction to some stupid H.B.O drama, your government freebies. No matter what it is, you are owned by your shit, which is owned by your debt, which is either owned or profited by a corporation. So you work for a corporation, everything you buy comes from a corporation, everything you watch is produced by a corporation, and the debt you owe is held by a corporation. Ah yes, as Sidewalkers say, the rich get richer.

Of course, none of this has been done with your consent. The Sidewalk is innocently introduced with college. If you're one of the fortunate who graduated debt-free, congratulations.

You've escaped a snare. If you were like me, I financed my education with the government, who not shockingly, hands out student debt like candy from a white, windowless van. And then the script's meathooks claw into you.

For the next four or five years, college teaches you consumption without production. While learning, you consume expensive textbooks, housing, clothes, sundries, food, drink, liquor, and whatever looks and feels good on campus. And don't forget those pre-approved credit cards, an enticing avalanche the moment you roll into the student union. Aren't those banks generous?

Again, you are being groomed for consumption, the idea that it's okay to consume in excess of production and that such excess can be paid later. Meanwhile, those "losers" who skipped college and avoided consumption's snake pit are working while avoiding six-figured debt.

After graduation, the consumption mentality continues as hedonistic pleasure and peer one-upmanship. Armed with a new job, new money, and a pile of credit cards, projected success through ego-driven extravagance and conspicuous brand consumption is expected. I know because I fell for the same trap: I deserve to be rewarded for all the hard work in college! And now, because I have a job and a paycheck, I'm going to show the world how successful I am. Throw in social media and it's consumption's perfect storm.

Usually the ruse begins with a new car, of course financed. I remember my last week before college graduation: four friends bought new cars simply as a reward for getting a job—and this was before their first day on the job!

Then it follows with a new wardrobe (financed) because, gosh golly, you can't drive your Beemer in some off-label rags from Target. Or worse, your job requires a $2,000 suit for every day of the week. Of course, no consumption escapade is complete without the latest iPhone, iWatch, or iToilet, financed by any of your half-dozen credit cards. And if you're fortunate to get hired for a job paying better than average, consumption hits overdrive with a townhouse or a condo in Wrigleyville—again, all financed, but this time over thirty years.

At this point in your scripted existence, you're probably feeling pretty good about yourself. Unfortunately, it's short-lived with an expiration date, usually the moment the bills come due, the newness wears off, or the job wears thin.

Underneath the scripted delusion is the idea that success can be bought at a mall, parked in a garage, or cashed on a Friday. Few realize that every dollar owed shortens the leash and tightens the collar around their neck.

My firsthand experience being short-leashed and tight-collared happened after I graduated. I was miserable five days a week, working a dead-end construction job. But the money was good. Fresh off some bad advice—"fake it until you make it"—I bribed my weekday misery with a sports car, one I couldn't afford and had no business owning.

The car payments siphoned most of my paycheck. I no longer could afford moving out from under my mother's wing. But damn, I looked good! And for a few weeks, I actually felt successful.

Epic fakery.

The problem with my car extravagance wasn't the payments but the consequences of the payments: It trapped me in a job I hated, a job that sapped my spirit and quarantined my entrepreneurial pursuits. Consumption stole my power to make choices—to be free. I wanted to quit but couldn't. I had debt and it siphoned all my time. Temporal prostitution, anyone?

Consumption's self-administered Sidewalk trap goes beyond consumption vanity. Looking stylish, you will probably attract a mate, one who has fallen in love with your wonderful public persona fashioned by your consumption mindset. Jenny thinks you look "hot" in a suit. She loves the Audi convertible and your loft in Buckhead. You're getting older, and you think she's fabulous in bed. The script says, "Get married," because you know, most of your friends are already married and you feel left out. After dating a year or two, you decide to strap on the ultimate consumption accelerator: marriage and a litter of kids.

Game over.

scripted life becomes nearly a lock because children necessitate consumption. Let me repeat that: Children necessitate consumption, where it's no longer a fashionable choice but a requirement. You need to buy diapers, food, health care, and the latest video game—and you do it for at least eighteen years. Congratulations, you are the {script's} new best friend.

So the next time you're sowing your oats unprotected with some Tinder hookup or sitting in the finance office at the car dealer signing a contract, picture Admiral Ackbar heckling in the background: "Wait, it's a trap!"

And please understand, I'm not anti-marriage or anti-children; I am anti-consumption and Trust me, your twenty-two-year-old self will be an unrecognizable stranger to your thirty-two-year-old self—as will the person you attract. Marriage and children could be the most important part of your human experience. It's worth waiting until you've discovered your true self, where you can give your spouse and kids everything you've got, not just a kiss on the cheek and a weekend.

Door #2: The Slowlane (Trade Today for Tomorrow)

The Path: The Slowlane

The Promise: Freedom later through investing ebook3000 dot com - The Leash: Deprivation The Slavemaster: Time and Wall Street The Collar: Hope The Rat Race: Save, work, invest, wait, repeat

Changing the Leash and the Collar...

After a few years (or decades) of Sidewalk living, you might come to your senses. Once you're responsible for children, it hits that blowing $1200 on bottle service at the club isn't smart. One look at your credit card balance and your retirement prospects, and you might conclude mistakes were made.

Overall, you're a fighter and refuse living with the debt collar. Such suspicions will lead to an investigation, and unfortunately, that investigation leads to the script's Door #2, The Slowlane. In fact, the script is counting on it.

Generally speaking, The Slowlane appears to be a responsible choice because it's pitched by culture, media, and a trillion-dollar financial industry. Like the Sidewalk, the Slowlane makes promises: Miserly saving and investing today will lead to freedom tomorrow. In other words, incarcerate 90 percent of your adult life in a job/Wall Street scheme so you can hope to enjoy the last 10 percent.

The Slowlane is the presumption that decades of gainful employment circumscribed by thrifty living, tortuous saving, and regimented stock market investing will somehow make you a happy millionaire. The financial priesthood and the mainstream mouthpieces have made it clear: if you want a secure retirement and a millionaire portfolio by sixty-five, sacrifice now and put those sacrifices into the stock market.

Behind the theory is this backward idea that patience, or time, can make you wealthy. But wait, didn't we just say time is wealth? Yup; it's like a diet encouraging you to chop off your legs just so you can brag you lost weight. And then, once you've chopped off most of your life and all that remains is a wealthy octogenarian living on fumes, you can finally retire and hit that bucket list.

Does selling five decades of youthful time so you can buy ten elderly years sound smart? If so, I have a bridge...

Deprivation and Hope

At the heart of the Slowlane is a reasonable idea: stop consuming.

However, applied within the scripted O.S, stop consuming means stop living. Specifically, start depriving yourself. Settle for less.

Lower your expectations. Defer spending, defer experiencing—vacations, restaurants, movies—and defer life until retirement.

While the Sidewalker is leashed and collared by consumption and debt, the Slowlaner is leashed and collared by deprivation and hope. I call it the Hope, Stop, and Wait plan.

Sadly, changing paths does nothing but change your corporate master. Whereas a Sidewalker is broadly owned horizontally through a variety of corporations (banks, media, consumer products), the Slowlaner is vertically owned by just one corporate master. Your new corporate owner? Wall Street.

You see, whenever you put your financial future into Wall Street's hands, you're essentially saying, "Hope and time is my plan for financial freedom." For the plan to actually work, think about all the stars needed to align perfectly:

- Hope I have a job—not just a job but a good job.

- Hope the economy gives me that good job for the next fifty years.

- Hope the stock market yields 10 percent a year and doesn't crash.

- Hope the housing market doesn't implode and erase my equity.

- Hope I'm alive by retirement.

- Hope I'm healthy.

Hope the government doesn't hyperinflate my savings or the currency in which it is denominated.

Hope the government can continually fund a bankrupt Social Security program.

Yes, you are collared by hope, imprisoned by time, and owned by Wall Street.

But the leash is worse. Before you can test the plan, it requires the stingy leash of deprivation. Every dollar must be pinched, coveted, and invested. Expenses cut to bare minimums: Cancel the movie channels. Clip coupons. Buy your wardrobe from Goodwill. Ride the SuperShuttle from the airport to save eight dollars, even though it adds two hours to your ride.

Stop going to first-run movies and wait for the D.V.D dollar rental. Stop vacationing. Stop ordering expensive wine at restaurants. (Restaurants? You shouldn't be at a restaurant, dummy. Save that cash; it could be worth $1,000 in fifty years!)

Stop this, stop that. Stop living and start dying.

Hope, Stop, and Wait. Sounds great, eh? The people profiting from the ruse tell you it is. The Slowlane is a multitrillion-dollar industry lickspitted by famous authors and radio personalities, financial planners, money managers, and a whole gauntlet of prejudiced parties. Not surprisingly, these fiscal prostitutes don't get rich practicing their advice, they get rich teaching it.

Pick up any book about personal finance and you're likely to read a 200-page mind-fuck about being cheap. Of course, these books don't overtly say, "Be cheap," but hide behind slippery phrases like "the simple life" or "frugal living." Some bloggers make a living on the entire concept, as if dumpster-diving for expired meat behind the Safeway is so brilliant. Regardless of the words beating you stupid, the concept is ridiculous and oxymoronic.

Scarcity does not create abundance. Replacing fiscal poverty with experiential poverty is like replacing your dietary protein with carbs and expecting muscle. And yet millions of people mistakenly believe that the menu of extraordinary living has “settle for less” listed as an entrée. It doesn't.

Think about it from the seeder's perspective. If you sold ten million books on how to pinch a penny from your ass, do you think you'd care about the stock market? Likewise, if you had $1 billion under management at your hedge fund, do you think you'd care about returns? Win, lose, or draw, you make bank.

Nonetheless, the beat goes on: One hundred dollars saved every month could be worth $5 million after fifty years! Inflation? Stock market crashes? Life expectancy? Survivor biases? Zero percent interest rates?

Currency devaluation? My friends, pay no attention to probable reality because, just like lotteries, probable reality plays no role in feel-good fantasies! You're going to be rich!

Sadly, Slowlaners snort this B.S like free cocaine in a billionaire's penthouse. And once again, temporal prostitution is saddled up and ridden toward death. There is no freedom without vitality. Six feet under is not freedom, and neither is a hip replacement and a wheelchair. Time, Wall Street, the economy, the job market, the housing market, government incompetence—these things are no better than rolling the dice at Caesars Palace, and at least there you'll feel like a king while snagging a free buffet.

Folks, if anyone says you need four or five decades to *earn* your freedom, click back, close the browser, unsubscribe, or ask for a refund. The script wants you to Hope, Stop, and Wait because by the time you discover winning at this crap is like snake eyes at the craps table, it's too late.

Chapter 11 Distraction: The Ministry of Entertainment

Move Along, Nothing to See Here

D

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised and a smiling expression, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or success, suggesting that the individual has achieved a goal or won a competition.

Hear that? Those are the Ds coming your way: Dread. Dissatisfaction. Depression. Disquiet. Discontent. Disillusionment. All predictable consequences for either door, the disharmonious emotional whispers onward to your final destination: M.O.D.E.L. Citizenship.

But before embarking, we'd like you to forget about those Ds. Instead, we want you comfortable. Entertained and humored. So here's one of the script's many red herrings: a movie...

You see, both scripted paths cannot survive without their ministry of entertainment: distraction. While we're blissfully preoccupied watching our funny movie while stuffing our face with genetically modified food and being herded toward the slaughterhouse, our minds are being melted into submission.

Pay no attention to what's outside the rail car. Negative interest rates? Here's a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Twenty-trillion in government debt?

Check out the celebrity dresses worn at the Oscars! Stock market crumbling? Sign this petition to stop H.B.O from canceling The Sopranos. Middle East genocide? Meh, did you hear Katy Perry's new album?

You see, if you're too plumply entertained in hyperrealistic distraction, you're no threat—no threat to the paradigms and certainly no threat to the meat grinder awaiting. Just sit back, relax, and focus on your movie because this train is leaving.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram in the shape of an inverted triangle. The content depicts a hierarchical flow of societal influences, starting from the top with the seeders, including family, education, and government, followed by hyperrealities such as consumerism and virtual reality, and moving down through life paths and specific choices like the sidewalk or slow lane. The entire process converges at the bottom toward the creation of model citizenry, with arrows labeled distraction pointing downward along the sides. The diagram suggests that societal structures and artificial realities act as mechanisms of distraction that funnel individuals toward a standardized state of citizenship.

Unfortunately, distraction's objective is not to keep you entertained. It's to grind life into mediocrity. Autopiloted inertia—when both scripted paths seem inescapable and reversing appears impossible painful.

While season twenty-two of "whatever show is hot" rolls on, inside your spirit withers. Dreams fade. Life mulls into the trivial and mundane. The pending suicide mission is resigned as fate. Suddenly, instead of talking about goals and dreams, you're talking about how much the Lakers suck this year.

Distraction is the medicating cocktail that lets us swallow our ignorant resignation that life will be ordinarily destined for a weekend and a once-a-year vacation. Meanwhile, the clickety-clack of the train tracks count down the years to the last and final stop...

M.O.D.E.L. Citizenry.

Image summary: This figure is a graphic illustration combining text and a pictogram. The content features a chapter heading and a title referring to model citizenry with an associated serial number, positioned above a simplified human figure with arms raised in a celebratory or triumphant gesture. The image suggests a satirical or dystopian theme where citizenship is quantified and tracked by serial numbers, contrasting the rigid nature of identification with a pose of perceived success or compliance.

Chapter 12 M. O. D. E. L. Citizenry: Serial #666-77-8888

The Boulevard of Broken Dreams

[xamine any boulevard of broken dreams and the script marks the centerline. Deep within the taproot of our distracted and denied Ds rests a hurtful truth that you've been played a fool. You followed the rules exactly as told by your parents, teachers, and peers—outlined by an expensive education, an uninspiring job, a slow-or no-growing portfolio, and a flowing credit line. You have the condo, the car, and the credit cards, and yet freedom seems as unlikely as a T-bone steak at a vegan picnic.

What happened is painfully obvious: Instead of breaking the mold, you fit the mold. Instead of blazing a trail, you marched with the herd. Instead of leading the pack, the pack led you. M.O.D.E.L. Citizenry is the scripted O.S's goal where you become a part of an indentured class concocted by either Sidewalk or Slowlane paths, the final consequence of being pawned in a rigged game that has few winners.

As the script's newest manufactured M.O.D.E.L. Citizen, life is:

mediocre: Life has regressed into an unremarkable yet comfortable ordinariness, where thriving is not an objective, but surviving.

obedient: Free-thinking is dead; you follow popular opinion and trust your government and the news organizations fanning the flames of your biases.

(D) Ependent: You're a debt serf owned by an army of corporations: product and service producers, Wall Street, government—or worse, you are owned by time.

(E) Entertained: Your entertained and humored mind distracts the heart to the point where your soul is no longer heard.

(50) Ifeless: Dead at twenty-five but not buried until seventy-five. Goals, nonexistent. Optimism, scant. Dreams, murdered.

Image summary: This figure is a hierarchical triangular diagram. It illustrates a conceptual flow from top to bottom, starting with The Seeders, moving through The Hyperrealities, and ending with The Life Paths. The top section lists societal influences such as family, education, government, and media. The middle section details various constructs of hyperreality, including consumerism, virtual reality, and corporate structures. The bottom section focuses on life paths, mentioning temporal prostitution and different directional choices. Arrows pointing downward along the sides of the triangle are labeled as distraction, indicating that the movement through these stages is accompanied by a continuous process of diversion.

This script is real. If you're thinking I'm Alex Jones 2.0., my guess is that the heat isn't hot enough. You see, the scripted O.S works its deceit like that poor frog who dies in a boiling pot of water. No one willingly jumps into boiling water; we become suckers to the scheme by comfortably playing in lukewarm water while the heat slowly rises, optimally while showing the latest Hollywood movie while promising free popcorn.

The script works its madness similarly. No one aspires to a mediocre life framed by a spiritual suicide. To stomach the heat, the temperature rises slowly, month by month, year by year, until the momentum is too strong to reverse—or worse, you're too old to fight.

No matter which road is taken, the outcome is the same: we're livestock held hostage by a corporate cartel—a variety of banks, media conglomerates, product producers, Wall Street money managers, and the ultimate parental corporate duo, your job and your government.

Fuck that shit.

It's time to own yourself.

Part Three

the Alternative...

Living unscripted To illustrate what is possible when your life is free from scripted expectations, and how to start crafting your own vision of that existence.

Image summary: This is a conceptual illustration depicting two service windows. One window is labeled as providing unpleasant truths and is managed by an unscripted individual, while the other window is labeled as providing comforting lies and is managed by a scripted individual. A long queue of people is waiting for the window offering comforting lies, whereas only a single person is standing at the window offering unpleasant truths. The figure suggests that people have a strong preference for receiving reassuring falsehoods over facing harsh realities.

Image summary: This figure is an iconographic illustration. It consists of the word VISION positioned above a stylized light bulb with radiating lines emanating from its top. The image symbolizes the concept of an idea, insight, or strategic foresight, suggesting a connection between visual perception and intellectual inspiration.

Image summary: This figure is a graphic illustration containing text and a stylized icon. The content consists of a chapter heading titled The Unscripted Life followed by a profane exclamation, accompanied by a stick figure with arms raised in a celebratory or defiant gesture, holding a piece of fabric. The figure suggests a theme of liberation, rebellion, or the act of breaking free from societal constraints and expectations.

Chapter 13 The Unscripted Life: “Fuck You”

Describing Indescribable: The 5 “Fuck You” Freedoms

In Hollywood's The Matrix, the world is fooled by a neural simulation while carnivorous machines feed on our life force. Similarly in our world, government feeds on our economic output, our consumptive impetuses, and our consensus ignorance. Corporations play the foot soldiers, herding the unwashed into the machine's mouth while the hyperrealities keep us entertained and distracted.

Hopefully your blinders are off and you see the paradigm of compliance. Hopefully you're awake and now know that you've been sold a bullshit story by a bunch of bullshitters whose only goal is to keep you knee-deep in bullshit. And unlike a fictional movie, cleansing yourself from the bullshit isn't as easy as swallowing a red pill. You can't stop using money, paying your taxes, or interacting with a hyperdistracted world. The good news, however, is that the script has an escape through Unscription—a life-changing subset of thought and action underwritten by entrepreneurship.

What can unscripted do for you? Tough question. Word-smithing an unscripted existence free from M.O.D.E.L. Citizenship is like trying to capture the “oohs and ahhs” of the Grand Canyon with a late-seventies Polaroid. Like a near-death experience, words cannot accurately express Unscription. All I can do is paint a picture from my experience, and hope you can use it to craft a vision for yourself.

As for that picture, I suppose now would be a good time for me to shamelessly brag about all my “stuff”—you know, the garage full of European supercars, the imported exotic Ming Dynasty vases, and my haute couture wardrobe complete with leather-embroidered dragons and silken flaming swords. Oh, and let's not forget my favorite gadget: my wifi-enabled refrigerator with an authentic Monet embedded in the door.

But you know what? I won't do any such thing. You see, I don't own any of this crap. The truth is, unscripted is about what you don't have versus what you do have.

unscripted is self-actualized freedom by exclusion and excommunication. Don't confuse this with minimalism or being a waitstaff-stiffing cheapskate. unscripted entrepreneurs live well by choice, not by necessity. “Well” is whatever you want, whether Teslas are preferred over Toyotas or Ferraris over Fords. I'm not here to define your fulfillment picture. I won't tell you that you need $100 million or $1 million to make it happen. My happiness is not yours. I'm only here to give you the blueprint for making it happen, and making it happen as fast as possible.

With that said, if I had to paint unscripted with one color, it would be the color of “fuck you.” Yup, fuck you.

- Being charged an arm and leg for a mortgage? Fuck you. I'll pay cash.

- Need to work next weekend and miss the kid's playoff game? Fuck you. I quit.

- Stock market sinking and threatening retirement? Fuck you. The stock market doesn't fund my retirement.

- Can't go on vacation until someone gives permission? Fuck you. I leave tomorrow.

- Can't wear that cool outfit on casual Fridays? Fuck you. I'm wearing only underwear all day.

- Don't like how your kids are being educated? Fuck you and your school. I'm homeschooling my kid.

- Don't like your annual 2 percent pay raise? Fuck you. I'll make 200 percent more next year.

As “fuck you” implies, unscripted is about pure, unadulterated life and liberty. Life means owning your time and thoughts while curating your existence. It is not just to be, but to become. The “fuck you” of liberty has five primary freedoms. They are:

1. Freedom from work

2. Freedom from scarcity and fiscal constraint

3. Freedom from hyperrealistic influence

4. Freedom from hope and dependence

5. Freedom from ordinary and routine

#1) Freedom From Work

I successfully executed an unscripted plan in multiple instances, and hence, I don't need to work another day in my life. Indentured time has been eliminated. I don't need to write books, start another company, or wake up by force every weekday morning. Theoretically, I retired nearly thirty-five years early.

Still, every day is payday. Every day is Saturday. Every day is owned—every second and every hour are mine. Fundamentally, I am as rich in time as Bill Gates or any other billionaire.

You see, to be free from the necessity of work is like releasing a caged bird and unleashing the world as your playground. This liberation opens you to experimentation. Spontaneity. Clarity of action and purpose without fiscal measurement, interference, or influence. In other words, my life's work honors my soul, not some third-party “thought leader” in a position of authority.

Take this book, for instance. What do you think crucifying the trillion-dollar financial industry will do to my book sales? I'll make an educated guess that no one in the financial world would dare recommend unscripted, let alone review it favorably. You see, if book sales (or money) were my driving influence as an author, I'd tell you that the best investment is a 401(k) and a Vanguard mutual fund. I'd tell you M.L.M is the best business model and everyone should do it. One opinion is the voice of necessity, a compromised integrity in lieu of putting Benzes in the garage, and the other is the voice of unscripted.

And yet I still work. Why? Because it's a part of my life's meaning and purpose. Because it's my choice and not a force-fed exhibition, work rarely feels like work.

Yeah, it's fun. And get this...I still earn a full-time C.E.O salary for a part-time effort. unscripted transforms the world into one simple choice: Will you? Or won't you?

#2) Freedom From Scarcity and Fiscal Constraint

In early 2014, I dropped seven figures-plus on a beautiful home in Fountain Hills, Arizona. I could do a “cribs” video and talk about its many great amenities, but doing so is tantamount to scripted douchebaggery. Instead, I'd like to talk about what it doesn't have...

It doesn't have a mortgage. I told the bank "fuck you" and paid cash. Outside of maintenance and operating expenses, such as insurance and utilities, my basic living expenses can be paid with an income considered poverty in most states. No rent payment, no mortgage payment, no interest payment, no private mortgage insurance—never again, for life.

Likewise, it doesn't have cars in the garage with payments attached. I don't need leases or loans. Nope, whatever cars are parked are paid for. Some have tremendous miles and make no statements in traffic other than that I need to get from point A to point B. Others may come and go and are very expensive, Italian, rarely driven, and symbolic of the unscripted path I've taken. What would your life look like without a house or a car payment?

And my favorite feature of homeownership? My home is free from the Gestapo H.O.A, better known as your trusty neighborhood homeowners' association. If you're not familiar with H.O.A's, they are composed of multiple jackasses posing as humans, telling you what you can and cannot do with your house. Want to paint your house?

You need permission. Fly a flag on your front steps? Permission. Don't get permission and get fined or, worse, have a lien slapped on your house.

I cannot tell you how happy I am knowing some loser cut from the varsity football team forty years ago can't tell me the appropriate trim height for my bushes.

But perhaps my favorite liberation is escaping the financial straitjacket while giving scarcity the middle finger, including the authors and bloggers who pitch it. Ah, the beauty of not being mind-fucked by money. It means dinner is a nice steak found at a nice steakhouse—not roadkill you found on Interstate 10. It means liberated shopping at “Whole Paycheck” with smug impunity, price and sale considerations ignored—not hauling a wad of coupons so thick that George Costanza would drop his jaw. It means flushing the toilet every shit—not rationing flushes every six dumps because, O.M.G, you'll save eighty-nine cents on every flush! And my favorite: the exhilaration of walking into Starbucks and buying whatever you want without hearing lectures about compound-interest tables and how much that five-buck coffee would grow if you just saved it while waiting for the invention of warp-drive.

#3) Freedom From Hyperrealistic Influence

One day I climbed into my truck and caught a glimpse of some papers jammed in between the seat and the center console. Now, if you ever hitched a ride in my car, you'd conclude that I'm a slob, or at least, I chauffeur one. Riding shotgun is like box seats at the county landfill without the Cracker Jack. Anyway, after starting the engine and lifting an eyebrow at the trash in my passenger well, some official-looking papers caught my eye. I grabbed them and took a look. O.M.G. What I found was an emotional mixed bag: First, shock, then happiness, and then fear.

Buried in those papers, buried in my car was a check for $11,000. The check sat lost in my car for weeks, not cashed, not missed, and not needed. Shocking? Yes. Happy? You bet. I can't tell you how incredible it is to be debt-free without need, want, or desire. The fear? The check totally slipped my mind. Alzheimer's is a family friend, and let's just say, my memory rivals a Commodore 64.

The takeaway? Had I been bewitched by the consumer hyperreality, that 11.G would have been spent the minute it hit my hands. If my priority was slaughtering the Joneses or some flamboyant Instagram playboy, I would have spent my millions on a bunch of junk that screamed, “Hey, look at me and my cool stuff!” The lesson is, I haven't pissed away my freedom playing the consumer con game. I didn't capitulate to the latest in German engineering and didn't buy the latest iPhone only to have it ebook3000 dot com replaced a year later. Instead, that 11.K was parked in a seat crevasse and never thought about again.

Perhaps my favorite hyperrealistic immunity is from trivial distraction. In June of 2014, Yahoo's front page announced that breakout pop star Iggy Azalea's video "Fancy" surpassed a hundred million views. At the same time, sectarian war broke out in Iraq. Ukraine was on the verge of a Russian invasion. And yet, Yahoo had nary a peep. As for the urgent matters that besiege the American idiocracy, namely Iggy's hundred million views, I'm proud to admit I was not one of them. The very definition of unscripted means not being influenced by scripted trivialities. Pop culture, celebrity worship, and pro athletes are "no contest" to the life I'm leading.

For example, ask me who won the World Series last year. I don't know. And if you told me, I wouldn't remember.

Why? Because I don't give a fuck. I don't care that some millionaire athlete threw an interception and lost the football game in the fourth quarter. While I respect pro athletes for their process, I pay attention to their livelihoods as much as they pay attention to mine. My life is too short, too important, and too valuable to get wrapped up in scripted zombification.

And finally, another hyperrealistic immunity is its bullshit detector. You see, when Dillion, a long-lost friend, sends me a Facebook message crusading for some “ground-floor opportunity” that's gonna make him rich, the B.S thermometer spits mercury. His words are peppered with phony platitudes, excited emoticons, and stories of free B.M.W's that aren't really free but leased.

Funny and sad, but no worries—I'm immune because I know the difference between entrepreneurship and a direct sales job in a network marketing company. I know the difference between leading the charge and being led by a charge. I know the difference between the scripted seeking shortcuts and the unscripted targeting those seeking shortcuts.

But my unscripted immunity doesn't end there. Rid of influence, I'm a human shield impervious to scripted dogmatisms and their ubiquity. It's like walking the planet uninfected amidst a zombie pandemic.

Oh gracious, look there: Another financial article authored by a non-millionaire telling me how to become a millionaire. In the scripted Xanadu, it's perfectly acceptable, like taking fitness advice from a fat dude who hasn't seen a gym since the Bush administration. But the fairy tales and unicorns have just started. Look, its another financial guru dispensing another fiscal hypocrisy of “do what I say, not what I do.” I chuckle. I shake my head. And then my humanity hits me with sadness—people buy the lies and pay for it with their lives.

#4) Freedom From Hope and Dependence

unscripted means unbinding from hope and dependence as a financial plan.

It's a simple truth: "Fuck you" freedoms cannot be ascribed by dependence or hope. The source is irrelevant. Living in your parent's house? Dependent. Living off the government's nipple? Dependent. Is your lifestyle tied to a job and the income it provides? Sorry, dependent. Is your retirement locked into a fifty-year marriage with Wall Street? Or how well the stock market performs? Again, sorry—dependent.

Within the scripted O.S, the holy trinity of retirement planning is tied to three unpredictable and uncontrollable markets: the job market, the stock market, and the housing market. In other words, follow the script and your financial future is resigned to the gambles of dependence. Adopt conventional thinking in this area and I guarantee, you will live conventionally.

The truth is, the unscripted don't rely on these markets for creating wealth. Nope, none of them. Less than 2 percent of my net worth comes compliments of any of these markets. As I write this, I own a few stocks, and it's only because they pay dividends.

Being free from market shenanigans means something I hold very dear: I can give them the big "fuck you." Stock market up? Down? Who the hell cares! I don't give a shit because the stock market is not my vehicle for wealth. And the ultimate irony? I don't own an I.R.A or a 401(k)—traditionally espoused retirement vehicles—and yet I retired decades early. Oh lord, how could that be? You see, the unscripted understand the difference between the uncontrollable limited leverage (depend on the job/stock/housing market for decades and pray to God) and controllable unlimited leverage (invest in a business system I create and control).

#5) Freedom From Ordinary

A final unscripted liberation is to be pardoned from the death sentence of ordinary and routine. As I mentioned, one of my meaningless jobs after college was driving limousines in the Chicago suburbs. While that sounds glamorous, it wasn't. The only difference between me and a taxi driver was six feet of legroom, a shelf full of liquor, and a privacy door, or as I call it, the porn door. Anyhow, this “meaningless” job wasn't so meaningless after all.

For most days, I partook in the race of rats, with me as their driver. I saw routine on a daily basis.

One of my usual customers was an executive who would fly out Monday morning and return Thursday night. Despite driving this man nearly every week, we rarely spoke other than trip-pertinent information. Rarely a greeting, never a conversation, only a word or two, sometimes sprinkled in with a nod. Misery and scorn etched his morning face whenever I picked him up at his Barrington mansion. During rides to the airport, chats on his brick phone were occasional, the conversations callous, sometimes ruthless.

Then one Monday morning after I picked him up, something different happened. He broke routine. He actually engaged me in a cheerful conversation.

He learned I had two business degrees and was an aspiring entrepreneur. I learned he was a lawyer with a wife and two kids. During the thirty-minute drive to the airport, I wondered, “Why now is Mr. Misery talking to me?” As I drove into the airport, I found out why: he was meeting his wife and kids in Hawaii for vacation.

Welcome to routine—err, I should say, breaking routine.

unscripted is liberation from cultural norms and patterns of existence that don't serve your happiness. Such patterns are the traffic commute: the ride on the bus, the train, or the drive in the car. The nine to five, Monday through Friday, and the Sunday blues scarred by foreboding and discontent. The once-a-year vacation, the one that finally allows you to break, speak to a stranger, and crack a smile. The daily routine of waking up at 5 AM to a song you once loved, knotting a tie, working as you're told, driving home, microwaving dinner, watching the latest flavor of reality T.V, and then repeating endlessly till your funeral.

Freedom from ordinary releases you from the cognitive clutter of scripted standards by which you are measured: your car, your job, your college degrees, your house, your social media posts, and yes, even your appearance. If you're one of the 5,000 people that follow me on my personal Facebook page, you'll notice something unusual: I rarely post anything. No politics, religion, or sports team crap.

No gym photos or pictures of my healthy meal. The truth is, I care more about the real me than a crafted, social media me—so real me gets my attention.

In a similar vein, when you're unbound from ordinary, societal norms can't tell you how to dress or groom. You own your own style. As I write this, my hair is halfway down my back. Yes, it's that long and I haven't lost it.

“Madam...can I get you a drink?”

I hear that a lot when I dine out. From behind, I've been mistaken for a woman. When the server faces me and sees a man, hilarity ensues. The girlfriend finds it amusing. I don't. The point is, I haven't cut my hair because I don't need to cut my hair. There's no employee handbook I have to follow, giving ebook3000 dot com me the freedom to roll like Axl Rose, minus the shrilly voice and goofy hip gyrations.

Likewise, I don't own a tie—why would I waste money on something I hate wearing? Heck, I don't even own an expensive shirt. My day-to-day attire is gym clothes.

The last time I had a public speaking gig? I showed up in jeans and a T-shirt. I wear what's comfortable. If the audience wants to ignore me because my shoes aren't Ferragamo and my suit isn't Armani, well that audience would be in the wrong room and listening to the wrong speaker.

The unscripted T.L.D.R? Do, wear, buy, live, and pursue whatever you want. It's a beautiful way to live. But, will you even make it to the starting line? Let's find out.

Chapter 14 “Fuck This” Before “Fuck You”

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines positioned beneath the feet. The figure represents a person jumping or leaping in celebration, suggesting a feeling of victory, success, or excitement.

The Beginning of the End: The “Fuck This” Event (F.T.E)

[ver since The Matrix was released in 1999, the “red pill” has become symbolic for many things: transformation, awakening, knowledge, freedom, and the not so obvious, the painful road of unplugging from ordinary. As much as I'd like to be writing about rainbows, I cannot. Jim Rohn, the legendary motivational speaker, once said, “We must all suffer one of two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.” At some point, you will face the same choice: a life in hell, a scripted hyperreality fated by the treadmill of mediocrity; or a walk through hell, the red-pill reality of discipline, unpaid sacrifice, and dang it, a ton of failure.

The “fuck this” event (F.T.E) is your first step into this hell.

And no, it won't be a leisurely stroll through a blooming wheat field with a triumphant Hans Zimmer melody orchestrating the background. Cigars won't be lit and champagne won't be popping. Instead, the “fuck this” event is a traumatic moment, epiphanic, and painful. It's a pejorative mental breakthrough, one that sounds like any of the following: “No more!” “I've had it!” or “I can't live like this!” The F.T.E smacks you when the pain of the status quo finally exceeds the anticipated pain of its escape—the point of no return where nothing else matters. If awareness was a slow boil leading to this book, the F.T.E is a sudden flash burn of W.T.F.U and G.T.F.O.

In a June 2014 essay penned for Worth magazine, Mohamed El-Erian explained his reasoning behind his resignation as C.E.O of the investment firm pimco. In his essay, he cited his daughter for the reason. When El-Erian asked his daughter why she wouldn't brush her teeth and do as told, she produced a list of twenty-two milestones her father missed due to his workload. From her first day at school to a first soccer match to a Halloween parade, the list was exhaustive, enough to cause El-Erian to rethink his priorities.

He wrote, “Talk about a wake-up call… I felt awful and got defensive: I had a good excuse for each missed event! Travel, important meetings, an urgent phone call, sudden to-dos… But it dawned on me that I was missing an infinitely more important point.”

Unfortunately, and unlike Mr. El-Erian, your F.T.E won't be accompanied by a $100 million nest egg and a twenty-two-point list from your ten-year-old daughter but something more disruptive. Like a curt letter from human resources that euphemistically says, “Thank you for the last fifteen years, but your services are no longer required; security will escort you out of the building.” The F.T.E could come from a rickety cot with a spring piercing your spine: you're stranded by weather at an airport thousands of miles away from home, a revelation that once again, your child lacks a father and your wife lacks a husband. And let's hope your F.T.E doesn't come from an oncologist's office: a negative biopsy, a relieved reminder that you have one life and it might be over quicker than expected.

While my “fuck this” event was more than twenty years ago, it forever seared my mind. I was twenty-six, four years removed from college and working as a chauffeur in Chicago. My workday started like the other six days before it. It was an ungodly hour for a morning drop at O'Hare Airport. This morning was worse.

The client for tow was Ruth Stafford, an old leathery hag from the Hillary Clinton school of fashion —she wore the same burgundy floral pantsuit on every trip. I'd guess Ruth deployed this ensemble no matter the occasion. Funeral? Wedding? Jazzercise? Floral pantsuit. We nicknamed the perpetual-pantsuit lady “Ruth Stifford because she'd tip one dollar, regardless of conditions. Drive Ruth through a nuclear apocalypse or the eye of a hurricane and, well, enjoy your buck, kiddo. Throw in a heavy snow forecast and what's left is a grueling day foreshadowed.

Anyhow, twelve hours and hundreds of gridlocked miles later, I was still working. By nightfall, a steady snow turned into a blinding blizzard. After I delivered my last client home, I tried to do the same, but the blizzard had other ideas.

Roads were closed. Visibility, spotty.

Frustrated, I pulled the limousine to the shoulder of the road and parked.

I faced myself in an eerie silence. Ashamed. Disquieted. Hopeless. My cold socks, damp from hauling luggage all day, heckled my anguish. The disheartening truth was clear: Wipe me from the face of the planet and no one outside family would care. I was a nobody. My two business degrees, a waste. My impressive college G.P.A, earned years earlier, didn't mean jack. My dead-end job was just a merry-go-round keeping the bills paid until next month.

As I sat there, dazed and deadened by the sullen rhythmic hum of the windshield wipers, I confessed: My life was a train wreck and I was sick of the failure in the mirror. I was sick of cursing the alarm clock at 4 AM I was sick of chauffeuring drunk bachelors, spoiled prom-brats, and corporate executives. I was sick of enduring cold winters and humid summers while watching my life rot away in traffic. I was sick of being outcasted by my friends as we had nothing left in common—they talked about their jobs, cars, and two-bedroom townhouses; I talked about my entrepreneurial dreams. I was sick of my life's movie—a movie that no one would want to watch—and despite my preparation, the script was still camped in the director's chair.

And that's when I considered ending my life. And that's when everything changed. Something needed to change...and that something was me.

F.T.E's are memorable and often unmistakable. If you are unsure of yours, more than likely you have not had one.

Faking “Fuck This”

As you're reading, you might be thinking, "I've already had my 'fuck this' event!"

If true, congratulations. Unfortunately, most people *think* they had a "fuck this" event but haven't. What really happened was a "fuck this" moment—a temporary, irritating slap to the face, but nothing forceful enough to get you off your ass.

It's like that old folktale about the lazy dog lying in a gas station. Day after day, the dog lies there whimpering and moaning. After hearing the dog whimper every visit, a customer asks the clerk, "Hey, what's wrong with the dog?"

The clerk responds, "Oh, he's just lying on a nail and it hurts." Confused, the customer asks, "Then why doesn't he get up?" The clerk retorts, "I guess it just doesn't hurt bad enough."

The truth is, you will have many moments in life that seem like “fuck this” events, but they aren't. A fake F.T.E is temporary, sometimes lasting only hours, sometimes days. A true F.T.E shifts interest to commitment. It pummels excuses into submission.

It's unbalancing where nothing else matters and priorities shift: Xboxes are thrown in the attic; cable T.V is canceled; and credit cards are paid. You see, most people are “interested” in entrepreneurship, financial freedom, and success—but most never commit. Why? It just doesn't hurt bad enough.

There's only one way to tell the difference between a fake F.T.E and a real F.T.E. A fake F.T.E has four threats and any one of them will send you right back to the script. A real F.T.E has no threats; to breathe or not to breathe isn't a conscious choice—it just happens.

Threat #1: Mediocre Comfort

A real F.T.E doesn't care about mediocre comfort. Give a man an okay job that pays just enough to provide mediocre comfort and I'll show you a man that will keep his job indefinitely. This is by design.

In 1926, in an interview published by World's Work magazine, industrial titan Henry Ford confesses why he reduced his workers' labor load from six days and forty-eight hours to five days and forty hours, all while keeping pay the same. He said:

It is the influence of leisure on consumption which makes the [five day workweek] so necessary. The people who consume the bulk of goods are the people who make them. That is a fact we must never forget, that is the secret of our prosperity.

He continued:

The people with a 5-day week will consume more goods than the people with a 6-day week. People who have more leisure must have more clothes. They must have a greater variety of food. They must have more transportation facilities. They naturally must have more service of various kinds. This increased consumption will require greater production than we now have. Instead of business being slowed up because the people are'off work', it will be speeded up... This will lead to more work. And this to more profits.

Still accepted, the modern five-day, forty-hour workweek is a scripted tool for obedience, keeping you occupied, clothed, and fed, and it's just enough to keep weekends earmarked as a leisurely celebration officiated by consumption. As long as your head stays slightly above water, the weekend bribe continues while the red pill swirls around in your mouth like a Jolly Rancher.

I see this every day, and no, I'm not exaggerating. While my first book created some life-altering "fuck this" events for my readers, in all honesty, it also created many failed "fuck this" moments. Hit the "Introduction" section at TheFastlaneForum dot com and you'll witness page after page of them.

- I'm so excited to begin!

- In thirty days, I will post everything I've done!

- Good-bye job! Hello entrepreneur!

And then, bam! Twenty-four hours later, they're gone, never heard from again. Their grandiose declaration, meaningless.

Instead of a true scripted disconnection, they reconnect: back to their job, their existing paradigm, and their spectacular weekend. The problem is, these people *like* the idea of entrepreneurship as much as they like the idea of winning free money. But they don't honor the effort or expectation required to make it real. For example, I had a college buddy who always talked entrepreneurship. Let's call him Willie.

Willie gets a job helping him fund his entrepreneurial dreams—you know, so he can “pay bills” and meet his obligations. After getting a decent-paying job, Willie starts accumulating surplus cash. Instead of saving it or investing it into his business, he buys a new Jeep and a townhouse in a hot city district.

The next thing you know, Willie is job-trapped, as it's needed to fund his lifestyle. From the moment of his first paycheck, mediocre comfort ensues, justified and entrapped by “I have responsibilities.” Willie's entrepreneurial dreams pay the price. But hey, at least he has a nice Jeep with only forty-five payments remaining.

Translation #1? Willie is owned by his junk and the mediocre comfort it provides. He isn't willing to risk or sacrifice comfort in hopes of something better.

Translation #2? Willie doesn't need entrepreneurship as much as he needs comfort. And entrepreneurship doesn't need him.

Similarly, a lot of fathers on my forum expressed concern that their teenage children have zero interest in entrepreneurship. Even the teenage boy in my life isn't interested in entrepreneurship and it doesn't surprise me. Why? Because they haven't experienced a shitty boss, a shitty job, or a shitty commute. When you experience how much the system sucks firsthand, the desire appears. Warning people about a hot fire doesn't work—they need to feel the burn for themselves.

The problem in these instances is mediocre comfort—enough of it that it prevents you from getting up off the nail. The nice car, the regular paycheck, the fun weekend of football games—all of it keeps you at the poker table with the same strategy, the same bets, and the same cards. In the end, nothing changes but the passage of time. At some point, you have to decide: What's more important?

Your unscripted dreams? Or watching the Yankees third game on a ten-game home stand? Your long-term happiness? Or your drunken stupors at the lake on Saturday afternoon?

Threat #2: Your Guarded Pride and Ego

A real F.T.E overcomes an insulated ego. I was a C-student in high school, but in college I earned two business degrees, won scholarships, and graduated near the top of my class. Despite such accolades, I was willing to do anything to make my entrepreneurial dreams happen. That included washing dishes, driving cabs, mopping floors, and flipping burgers.

You see, I wasn't “too good” not to do the dirty work. My dreams were stronger than my pride and ego.

If you're "too cool" and fear what your friends and family might think because you're waiting tables down at the Applebee's, you're probably not cut from an entrepreneurial cloth.

I once tweeted that if you're not willing to take a minimum-wage job, you're not willing to be an entrepreneur. Entrepreneurs can go weeks, sometimes months, without getting paid. Are you willing to make that sacrifice? If you aren't willing to work for the minimum, how can you expect to work for nothing?

My forum is crammed with people too proud, too cool, and too good to work a shit job. Some are even too cool to get a real job. And you know what? These proud souls will never succeed as entrepreneurs, let alone get out of the gates of a scripted existence. Had I been “too cool” to run a limo company for an absentee owner, I would have never learned the inside scoop about the business leading to my first successful company. The plague of “too cool” was seen during Ashton Kutcher's acceptance speech at the 2013 Teen Choice Awards. He said:

I believe that opportunity looks a lot like hard work... When I was thirteen, I had my first job with my dad carrying shingles up to the roof. And then I got a job washing dishes at a restaurant. And then I got a job in grocery store deli.

And then I got a job in factory sweeping Cheerio dust off the ground. And I've never had a job in my life that I was better than. I was always just lucky to have a job. And every job that I had was a stepping stone to my next job, and I never quit my job until I had my next job. And so opportunities look a lot like work.

Epic speech, no doubt.

Epic crowd reaction, not so much.

As Mr. Kutcher voiced this life wisdom, the crowd didn't care to hear it. No raucous applause. No standing ovation. The crowd of mostly teens, surely mesmerized by Ashton's hyper-personality, sandwiched his "hard work" speech with crickets.

Chirp chirp. Of course being sexy and cool was met with screams and catcalls. Clearly our youngsters are more interested in "big breaks" and "overnight success" than they are about sweeping floors and washing dishes.

Threat #3: I Have Responsibility

Are you “in deep”?

“In deep” is a phrase I use when I hear someone deeply entrenched in scripted living. It refers to someone who is so overwhelmed with responsibility, debt, and consumption that scripted disconnection is nearly impossible. Their burdens have them paralyzed, and only a real F.T.E can change it.

For example, every so often during an interview, I'm asked if I have any advice for someone with four ex-wives, seventeen kids from six different women, nine credit cards, two new cars, and a bad job. Really? Not sure I have any advice, at least the type of advice you'd want to hear. How about keep your damn pants zipped? Quit buying shit with money you don't have?

Make better choices? With such a *robust* personal resume, this person doesn't have a money problem—he has a decision-making problem. And until that changes, nothing will change, no matter what my advice is.

A real F.T.E burns bridges and forces change; a fake one does not.

The coldhearted fact is, the more responsibilities assumed, the stronger the scripted grip becomes. Responsibility can be the yoke of many things: car payments, student loans, credit cards, mortgages, alimony, children, and yes, even man's best friend, your dog Fluffy. I know this isn't popular, but I'm not here to balm chapped lips.

The Maricopa County Animal Control shelter in Phoenix is known as Slaughterhouse Central, routinely killing hundreds of animals every week because pet owners are morons. One of the most common reasons innocent dogs are surrendered and killed twenty-four hours later? We can't afford him.

Duh, but I betcha can afford that iPhone 14, huh champ? Too many people go stupid blind when they see a cute snout, and suddenly they can't cognitively connect that dogs need feeding, training, grooming, walking, medications, vaccinating, and toys. Nope, he's just so cute! And bam, thousands of sweet, adoptable pets end up at Animal Auschwitz, all because of rampant human stupidity.

My point is this: Responsibility necessitates consumption. Stack extemporaneous responsibility into life and consumption is mandated. And the script loves consumption.

Threat #4: Fear

A real “fuck this” event fears nothing.

An epiphanic F.T.E understands that the world doesn't end when you lose your job. However, you'd never guess it by how many people remain in jobs they hate. Deep down, they are consumed by fear. Fear of the unknown, humiliation, failure, and gossiping friends.

Fear of being left behind, driving a shitbox car and going without the latest. Fear of Poltergeist clowns. All unreasonable, overestimated, and fully incapacitating.

Whatever fear prevents commitment, ask yourself, “What's the worst that can happen?” And if it does, will it end your world? Is it life threatening? Will you go blind or lose a limb?

Underneath unreasonable fear is an unreasonable expectation of the consequences. Having to live with your parents for a few months isn't so bad. Working the fryer at Wendy's isn't a death warrant. Missing the latest episode of The Walking Dead is not the end of the world. You will survive.

Awakening the Dream

My dreams resurrected on a cold, blustery day, stranded on the shoulder of State Route 12. I can't explain what happened. Perhaps it was the suicidal thoughts or the trauma of hitting rock bottom.

Although I studied entrepreneurship for years, I didn't transform from aspiring to being until my "fuck this" event. Commitment swallowed interest. In my case, fear washed away. And mediocre comfort turned to pain. I had enough of the nail.

In the end, my F.T.E helped me see that I wasn't born a loser, but born a chooser. I was as I chose. That evening, I confessed every circumstance in my life—my job, my finances, my environment, my business failures—was simply threaded to my choices. From that day forward, I took responsibility. I started thinking about how I thought and how I chose.

Several months after my F.T.E, with no fear, I abandoned Chicago and moved across the country to Phoenix, Arizona. I traveled light: a mere $900, a rusty Buick, and a few personal belongings. I committed to entrepreneurial success and would do anything to make it happen.

And that limousine job would be the last job I ever had.

My last paycheck.

My last boss.

My last Monday through Friday.

In hindsight, awareness followed by a profound “fuck this” event marked an inauguration, the day my dreams rebirthed from a mathematical impossibility to a profound probability. (I detail my early entrepreneurial days in my first book, The Millionaire Fastlane.)

One of my haters recently accused me of “selling a dream.” Gee, why are anonymous Internet geniuses living in attics so perceptive? As for “selling a dream,” that's exactly what I'm doing.

You see, most people live their life while stalked by dark shadows, the rotting corpses of their dead dreams. Those shadows materialize early in life, usually right after your teachers, parents, or whoever told you, “That's not realistic.” And then youthful dreams slowly decay into fairy-tales: winning the Powerball, getting discovered on American Idol, or winning some huge lawsuit because hot coffee spilled on your lap.

Want to know why everyone is so miserable?

The answer is simple: they've given up.

People who say, “He's selling a dream,” don't have proxy to anything but their own mediocrity. It's like playing poker with transparent cards—the hand is dead by the flop, so why bother trying? Nope, just fold. Meanwhile, your life is big-blinded to the pot while everyone else plays for it.

Yes, mediocrity's vast cemetery of dead dreams loves company. And so do media companies, casinos, and state lottery coffers. What these fools can't see is that pursuing the dream is the dream itself.

It's the process. The failures, trials, and tribulations. It's the self-growth, the self-awareness, and the self-discovery that occur during a dream pursuit. To sell the dream is to awaken the dream—and once it's alive, you become alive.

Some of the world's great entrepreneurs, inventors, and innovators live the unscripted dream. A few plowing their passions into the world are Elon Musk, Lori Grenier, Bill Gates, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Sylvester Stallone. A few others in history are Benjamin Franklin, Henry Ford, Sam Walton, and Ray Kroc. Heck, you could even say Jesus Christ was unscripted. The common thread is these men broke the rules for their time. They didn't stick to the script or cave to cultural norms.

However, don't let the famous names and transcendent biographies scare you; you don't need to father a religion or be the richest man on the planet to Unscript. Once you have the formula, unscripted can be anything minus the notoriety, and definitely minus the crucifixion. You won't need a start-up with $20 million in Series-A funding or an Instagram account with ten gazillion devout followers.

What you do need is better probabilities and a better system to fight the fight. While the scripted O.S is the bear in battle, we have a secret weapon that can change our odds: The unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework. Let's get to executing a change that changes results.

Part Four

the Escape...the unscripted ontraprunerial Framework [3 B intersection (M.P intersection F.E intersection K.E) intersection 4 D] divided by F.T.E

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual illustration or cartoon. It depicts a person standing before a series of paths or corridors, one labeled as a sidewalk and another as a slow lane, which both seem to lead toward a destination marked as a slaughter house. A character stands to the side, gesturing toward the slow lane and attempting to lure the person in. The illustration suggests a metaphor for life choices, implying that conventional paths, whether fast or slow, may lead to an undesirable or destructive end, while the figure on the side represents a tempting but potentially misleading alternative.

Part 4: Author's Objective: Execution

Representing the bulk of the book, the objective is to give you the entrepreneurial blueprint for executing an unscripted life, detailing both internal (mental) and external (actions) processes.

Chapter 15 The Unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework (tunef)

Want Success? Study Failure

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The figure represents a person jumping or leaping in a celebratory or triumphant manner, suggesting an achievement or a state of excitement.

In 2007, right before I sold my company for the second time, I started an entrepreneur forum focused on *real* entrepreneurship. And by *real* I mean businesses of innovation and creation—not “turnkey” businesses, such as selling network marketing crap or hawking Teespring shirts on Facebook.

For the next seven years, I dedicated my so-called retirement to breaking the scourge of mediocrity, do-nothingness, and entrepreneurial masturbation. During this time, I've seen thousands, perhaps millions, of wannabe entrepreneurs come and go. Most jubilantly proclaim independence from the ninete-to-five only to disappear twenty-four hours later, surely back to their cubicle comforts, the hot video game, or some T.M.Z celebrity gossip.

Others stay for years and appear to walk the talk. Believers of their own delusions, they gibber about business, the newest motivational video or the latest I.P.O story.

But they never do anything.

They see, believe, and understand the theology, but they don't live it. Caught in a perpetual paralysis by analysis, these wanderers consume the forum like a drug, creating progress illusions, reading book after book, posting inspirational meme after meme, while accomplishing nothing.

Then there are the brave souls who act and document their failures, giving the community a great gift: we learn from their failings and accelerate our own learning curve. Because I interact weekly with thousands of entrepreneurs (and aspiring entrepreneurs) I have insight into their thinking and, more importantly, how they don't think. This is important with success because a survivor bias reigns supreme.

Studying success isn't very helpful—we should be studying failures. Despite “paradigm shifts,” most people still feel lost. Where do I start? What should I do? What do I learn? How do I find ideas? What this? What that?

So I challenged myself: If I could architect a master blueprint, something that would give entrepreneurs a distinct advantage for succeeding at life, liberty, and entrepreneurship, what would it be? After spending many years at my forum and in the scripted world, I identified five essential processes critical to unscripted and creating an awe-inspiring life few dream of having. The unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework, or (tunef), is the result.

The Unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework (tunef)

The unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework, or (tunef) can be portrayed pictorially, mathematically, or chronologically. Whichever your preference, (tunef) is a five-phase progression of both thought and action, both uniting in a series of macro-and micro-processes.

Because entrepreneurship is a competitive sport, the framework provides an advantage over those who don't have it. The unscripted framework is transparently impartial—it helps success, but it can also identify loci of failure. By paying attention for the last twenty-five years, I've reverse engineered hundreds, perhaps thousands, of entrepreneurial successes and failures. The framework underwrites all of them, including my own. If successful entrepreneurship had D.N.A, it would look like (tunef) under a microscope. And many of these successes aren't advertised in the trendy entrepreneur mags.

For example, there's Kevin Nguyen. Kevin owns a successful product-based eCommerce company. Some days he works three hours, some ten, some none. Despite his busy company, Kevin has globe trotted the world, from Antarctica to Iceland to Peru. Kevin's unscripted abundance is travel. Six months out of the year, Kevin is on a plane to some exotic destination. You probably never heard about Kevin, but that doesn't change anything: He's perfectly unscripted, despite being raised in an Asian family that demands script allegiance from a stem career. In 2013, Kevin bought his father a brand new Lexus. And now, Kevin's father is on board with his unscripted lifestyle.

Then there's Steven VanCauwenbergh. Raised by a single mother, Steven's dream was simple: Escape the run-down and ragged one-bedroom apartment. The antiquated school system (which he struggled within) pressed him to learn a trade because he wasn't smart enough for college. Although Steven tried college, he dropped out to pursue entrepreneurship.

For a few years, he stumbled around in several businesses before he came across the book The Millionaire Fastlane, which turned his life upside down. Focused on businesses with high entry barriers, Steven launched into action and acquired $5 million in rental properties and over 125 rental units. He sold two businesses, both for six-figure valuations.

Now a multimillionaire, Steven has dived into more passionate pursuits, such as coaching, rehabbing, and authorship.

In other transformation, Dave Happe read The Millionaire Fastlane on the heels of a catastrophic business failure where his company was lost in a hostile takeover. For Dave, it clicked that if he could build a scalable business that wasn't lynched to his time, he could do whatever he wanted, including being location independent. Within a little over a year following the principles, Dave built a sustainable income where “time for money” was no longer required.

In less than five years, Dave's security business exploded under an “unlimited income” dynamic. With a focus on proprietary products, by 2015 Dave and his family become location independent, financially free, and liberated from a scripted existence.

But again, these are just a few stories you'll never see plastered on the front page of some scripted news outlet. They're out there in shameless quantities.

There's Al Levi. Author of the The 7 Power Contractor. Al retired at 48 after systematizing his business so it could run on auto-pilot. Al explains the dream on his website, AppleseedBusiness dot com U.R.L

Today, I live most of the year in sunny Phoenix, overlooking a golf course. And when it gets too hot in Arizona, I head to my home in New York by the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. In short, my wife and I are living our dream. We kept our promise to each other – to retire from the rush of business before the age of 50, and then to help others do the same thing. check2000 dot com And then there are notable stories that might hit your news feed. Like Kurt Searvogel, the ultra-distance competitor who set a goal to bike every day of the year, a whopping 75,000 miles. As Kurt's story grabbed attention, a reoccurring question always appeared: How does he afford it and find the time? Kurt's response was from the unscripted realm. He said:

I am the owner of Applied Computer Solutions, Inc. Building a company into a very successful and profitable venture requires the ability to plan and execute as well as learning that recurring revenues are much more important than one-time sales. Owning the company also provides the needed income that is required to travel all over the U.S.A to compete in ultracycling events.

Make no mistake, famous or unknown, both groups share a personal anarchy: They lead life; life is not leading them.

The Unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework: Digging In

According to renowned psychologist Abraham Maslow, self-actualization is a goal every human should aspire to. From Wikipedia, self-actualization is “Expressing one's creativity, quest for spiritual enlightenment, pursuit of knowledge, and the desire to give to society.” The unscripted framework can help you discover your true purpose, giving you the freedom, the choice, and the money to do so, without the forbearance of scripted oppression. Frankly, this can be whatever you want. For me, it was writing. For you, it could be a life of politics, philanthropy, or continued entrepreneurship. The unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework is defined via this 3 D diagram:

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram. It illustrates the Unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework through a series of intersecting geometric shapes and labels, including 4D, 3B, FE, KE, and MP, bounded by the terms Unscripted and The FTE. The central intersection of all components suggests a synergistic relationship where the various elements overlap. The layout indicates that the framework is structured around the convergence of these distinct dimensions to achieve a specific entrepreneurial state.

The base of the bottom triangle denotes your "fuck this" event (F.T.E) and launches the unscripted process. Moving upward, each variable represents an unscripted component. A top your F.T.E, the upper triangle, 3 B's, are beliefs, biases, and bullshit—the installation of a new mental architecture, which neutralizes the scripted O.S. The three intersecting circles (the Venn diagram) represent entrepreneurship, containing three variable components: F.E, M.P, and K.E. The top triangle, 4 D, represents the four unscripted disciplines. The topmost part of the triangle constitutes the unscripted afterlife—or self-actualization.

Defined by mathematics, the framework looks like this:

The unscripted Framework equals open bracket 3 B intersection open parenthesis M.P intersection F.E intersection K.E close parenthesis intersection 4 D close bracket divided by F.T.E

Or vocalized, “ 3 B intersect (M.P) intersect (F.E) intersect (K.E) intersect 4 D divided by (F.T.E).” F.T.E is a Boolean value; it's either True (1) or False (0). Yeah, a fake (false) F.T.E creates a division by zero. Aside from giving mathematicians a connition, it also invalidates the process. If you failed math, don't worry. This is as mathematical as we get. As for each variable, we will dive into each in the next chapters. For those who like things nice and orderly, (tunef) has a six-legged stair progression.

- Step 1: F.T.E

- Step 2: 3 B

- Step 3: M.P

- Step 4: F.E

- Step 5: K.E

- Step 6: 4 D

- Result: Unscription

Where Life Changes: The Entrepreneurial G-Spot

Regardless of the framework's presentational style, unscripted occurs when all five shapes, the two triangles and the three circles, intersect in the middle and ascend toward self-actualized unscripted. Hitting this five-point penta-intersection is figuratively the entrepreneurial G-spot—it's where life changes. It's where Sunday night no longer feels like Sunday night. It's where you wake up and have already made a day's wage. This is where you hit yourself over the head and ask, "Why the hell didn't I do this twenty years ago?"

I remember my unscripted “G-spot” moment like it was yesterday. I just turned twenty-seven and it was one of the happiest days of my life. And get this: I lived poorly on a mattress in a tiny studio apartment. At the time, my business was growing.

I created an in-demand web service and finally cracked a nut on finding customers. After walking to the bank and making a deposit, I walked outside. It was January and the weather on this sunny Arizona afternoon was stunning—warm with a gentle wind caressing the neighboring palms.

Meanwhile 1,800 miles away in my hometown Chicago, it was just another dark day of snow, cold, and misery. I took a contented pause, thankful for my recent choice, and glanced at my bank receipt. It was over $8,000—more money than I'd ever known.

Now I realize that 8 thousand dollars is not a lot of money; basically, it is bankrupt. However, at that moment in my life, it meant not having to get a job for at least another year. You see, that 8,000 dollars bought me one year of freedom. Freedom to pursue my dream and what mattered to my heart and soul.

The truth is, the unscripted dream begins not the day you retire or have millions in the bank, ebook3000 dot com but the day you hit the entrepreneurial G-spot—the day when the script retreats and you no longer exist but live.

Micro-Process + Macro-Process = Success

Strip the unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework naked and you'll find two processes fundamental to its execution: micro-and macro-processes. In general, a process is an action-series resulting in an outcome. For example, changing a blown tire is a process. Getting this book into your hands, another process.

The micro-and macro-processes scaffold the framework and grease the entrepreneurial G-spot, unscripted's birthplace.

The first subprocess is your micro-process. Your micro-processes are your thought patterns—your beliefs, biases, and your ability to self-reflect. It's how you think, feel, and interpret the world around you. For example, it's how you define money and *think* it's acquired. It's how you interpret luck and how you *think* it happens. It's what you *think* when you see a young kid driving a Ferrari. It's about how you look at your choices and their consequences, assuming you look at them at all.

Unfortunately, your brain and much of its micro-processes have been hardwired by the script. Like an infection needing eradication, the script has written your life rules, providing the mental architecture for autonomic behavior and knee-jerk thinking. As a result, we simply recycle old beliefs of parental or ancestral origin without giving thought to the whys behind them. Once wired together, what's left is a long list of lies engineering existence. Throw in a bunch of cognitive biases, proven psychological errors insulating the lies, and voilà—conventional living wrought by conventional wisdom.

The framework's second subprocess is a macro-process. Macro-processes are repeated and modified actions. The words “repeated” and “modified” are critical to results, changing the action from an event (a solitary action changing nothing) to a process (an action chain that changes everything). Macro-processes spin the wheel of cause-to-effect, effect-to-consequence, and consequence-to-change.

Random, isolated actions are not macro-processes but impotent macro-events. The latter is ineffective at creating measurable change. Effectiveness occurs only when macro-events become macro-processes.

For example, want six-pack abs? I try working out at the gym once. Yeah, just once.

As an action, one workout has Zero effect on your appearance. It's a random macro-event. However, working out 290 times in the next year—the macro-process—will give you those abs.

Unfortunately, when it comes to business strategy, many macro-events (and processes) are dynamic and change with time. What worked five years ago probably doesn't work today. When dealing with Internet time, we're talking six months.

Let me give you an example.

After my first book was released, a reader complained I left out an important part of my story: How did I grow from one hundred users a month to over 600,000? I omitted certain details because such details were no longer relevant as a macro-process. The macro-event was worthless. Seriously, does it help you knowing that I spent 4 thousand dollars a month at the LookSmart search engine? This search engine doesn't exist any longer.

Heck, when I bought my company back after its first sale, “social media” didn't exist. Mark Zuckerberg was in high school fiddling with his Nintendo. The macro-process of scaling an Internet company is not the same as it was in 2003. Or in 2011. Or in 2015. Rules change. Playing fields evolve. This is why many “how-to” books are ineffective and largely a waste of time—the macro-processes mutate so fast that by the time they get into a book or an Internet marketer's latest scam program selling at $997, they're outdated and ineffective.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual flow diagram. It illustrates a process-oriented path starting from a micro-process, which branches out into multiple parallel macro-processes, all of which eventually converge toward a single event designated as the goal. The diagram suggests that a successful outcome is achieved by breaking down a primary micro-process into several supporting macro-processes that collectively lead to the final objective.

The Silver Bullet Syndrome

One of the greatest travesties in self-improvement is this notion of the “silver bullet,” a cherished macro-event—or “that one secret” that is error-proof, foolproof, and failure-proof. Scan the bad reviews for my books and you'll read a mélange of silver-bullet-syndrome responses.

- M.J didn't give me the secret!

- M.J didn't tell me anything actionable!

- M.J didn't tell me exactly what to do, how, and where to do it!

- M.J didn't wipe my ass with scented wipes!

Translation? I didn't deliver the king macro-event: the silver bullet. Specifically, these misguided souls are looking for one cherished macro-event delivering drive-thru success. The clear path and risk-free road. The color-by-numbers plan where the only thing needed is your box of crayons.

Such a macro-process does not exist, and it never will.

The reality is, most people like these fail, not because they lack the correct macro-processes but because they lack the correct micro-processes. A flawed micro-process materializes into the world as a flawed macro-process, hence making them macro-events—ineffective circle-jerking which doesn't build habits or change. This shot-gun splatter like mentality then cascades into a system-wide failure barring the silver-bullet entrepreneur from goals and achievement.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram illustrating a process flow. It depicts a silver-bullet macro-process oriented toward a specific event, contrasting a micro-process with a series of macro-events. The macro-events consist of various shortcuts and external attempts to achieve success, such as attending seminars, reading books, seeking mentors, and purchasing get-rich programs. The diagram suggests that following these superficial macro-events leads to a dead end, as indicated by a road closed sign, rather than reaching the intended goal or event.

For example, engage the world thinking money is evil and all rich people have lied and cheated their way to wealth, and your actions will reflect such distortions, producing either inaction or no results at all. In other words, your inside-self is defeating your outside-self.

Rewritten micro-processes cause real change, so the macro-process can follow. Both are required, and (tunef) contains both. Additionally, I've made sure that all processes in this book are transcendent—their effectiveness today will equal their effectiveness ten years from now.

After your F.T.E, the next unscripted step tackles your micro-processes—your 3 B's: beliefs, biases, and bullshit. Change your head, change your results.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram representing a theoretical framework. It features an inverted triangle intersecting with three overlapping ovals, all positioned above a tiered trapezoidal base, with mathematical notation and descriptive text at the top. The diagram illustrates the relationship between various components including unscripted elements, different types of knowledge or experience, and a foundational base. The arrangement suggests that the intersection of these diverse elements, filtered through a specific process, leads to the identification of beliefs, biases, and bullshit, indicating that the synthesis of multiple perspectives is necessary to uncover these underlying factors within the overall framework.

Chapter 16 Our Self-Imposed Prison; Beliefs, Biases, and Bullshit 3B

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines underneath suggesting upward movement or jumping. The figure conveys a sense of victory, achievement, and excitement.

Unfucking What's Been Fucking You

Despite almost forty years passing, I still remember my third-grade show-and-tell. Excited, I galloped to the front of the class. In my hands was a remote-controlled dune buggy with big tread tires and a cutesy flag poling its tailgate. I started my presentation by matter-of-factly stating my cool toy was a gift from Santa Claus.

Whoops.

Big mistake.

The classroom snorted laughter. In seconds, my suspicions were confirmed: Santa Claus wasn't real. And let's just say the rest of the third grade didn't go so well.

As you can see, grasping a wrong belief, a wayward bias, or a piece of bullshit can have consequences, even for an eight-year-old kid. Represented by the upper portion of the lower triangle within the unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework, the 3 B's are the mind maps driving—or derailing—your personal transformation. They are:

Beliefs: What you think is true that necessarily isn't.

Biases: Your mental shortcuts and default assumptions, either reaffirming or protecting your beliefs.

Bullshit: Your internalized narrative about why things are, or simply, the bullshit you sell yourself.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram represented as a pyramid. The diagram features a base labeled as the FTE, a central triangular body containing the terms bullshit, biases, and beliefs grouped as 3B, and a peak topped with a circle labeled as the entrepreneurial gspot. The structure suggests that the entrepreneurial gspot is the ultimate goal or pinnacle, which is supported by a foundation of the FTE and built upon a core consisting of various biases, beliefs, and bullshit.

Many of us wander through life thinking we are architecting our will, living uniquely and brilliantly with purpose. But the truth is, we aren't. Behind the curtain, our brains are recycling impulsive and reflexive actions based on our preprogrammed 3 B's. These beliefs, biases, and bullshit buoy the scripted O.S telling us what to think, what to say, and what to do.

Life stuck in a rut? The 3 B's are the shovels that dig. Trouble starting or finishing? Look to the ground—the 3 B's are the trip wires. Until these wayward code blocks are reprogrammed, unscripted pursuits are likened to road-tripping with four flat tires.

The Enemy Within: Your Brain

I admit it. I'm a vitamin junkie. I think I've taken every fad fat-burner and muscle-builder out there. However, my madness is not about a shortcut; it's about leveraging the psychological power of my brain, otherwise known as the placebo effect. Ingesting the latest hot pill gives me the psychological edge of belief.

In my conversations with aspiring entrepreneurs, it's clear many dismiss their brainpower. Take for instance when I mentioned beliefs: I can guarantee many readers will skip this section. "Meh, not important—just tell me how to make money; give me exact steps."

The reality is, your brain is the battlefield for success, more so than any actions that come later. If your brain didn't skew results, why does the scientific method require placebos? Your mind delivers a psychological impact—so impactful that it must be scientifically accounted.

For example, try this experiment I learned in competitive sports. Stand up and look straight ahead. Extend your hand outward and point.

Now swivel your torso to the left (or right) as far as you can go. Notice where your hand is pointing and landmark it. Now return to your normal standing position and close your eyes. Now visualize yourself swiveling back to the same position, except this time see yourself going farther. Visualize yourself swiveling with tremendous ease, limber and flexible.

Do this for thirty-seconds. Now open your eyes and once again point forward and swivel. Voilà! You now should be able to swivel your body much farther than originally.

Your mind is understatedly powerful. In fact, I owe three orthopedic surgeries to this amazing power. By using visualization at the gym, I ably lifted staggering weight that guys twice my size couldn't ebook3000 dot com lift. My brain's visualizations made these heavy lifts possible; however, after years of defying my small frame, my joints finally said, "No freaking more."

As you can see, belief's psychological impact doesn't correlate to truth or effective action. A falsely held belief is equally as powerful as one that is true. The difference, however, is what follows. A response imbued with a true belief is actionable knowledge.

A response compelled by a false belief manifests as a mistake, an illusion, or an inaction. Sure I could believe and ultimately bench press 335, but my joints would eventually expose the truth. Exposing our beliefs as either truths or falsities clarifies whether our actions are based upon actionable knowledge or misperceived delusion.

Take for example the belief that your wife is trustworthy.

You might question this belief when, for the first time in years, your wife buys some sexy Victoria's Secret goodies. Suddenly you *suspect* she might be cheating, and the belief is questioned. This suspicion might not incite action, other than waiting to see if anything else fits your suspicions. Weeks, perhaps months, may pass.

Conversely, when you return home early from a business trip and catch her naked with Ricardo the pool man, you've moved from questionable belief, to actionable knowledge: She's cheating. Proof constitutes an immediate belief shift followed by action. Old belief: My wife is trustworthy. New belief: My wife cannot be trusted. Action: I want a divorce; I'm moving out; Ricardo, meet my fist.

Validated beliefs unveil truth, and truth is the best basis for decision-making. On the flip side, false beliefs do the opposite: they produce either inaction or errant action. In self-help circles, such lies are called “limiting beliefs.” Under psychiatric diagnostic criteria, they aren't so kind—they're called “delusions.”

For example, if you believe in Santa like I did, you might leave him cookies on Christmas Eve and hope your name isn't on his naughty list. Believe that broke blogger's advice that "do what you love" is the secret to success and you might fail twenty businesses. Believe that suicide is the doorway into an alien spacecraft tailing Comet Hale-Bopp and you might kill yourself like the thirty-nine believers of the Heaven's Gate cult did in 1997.

As you can see, delusional beliefs cause erroneous actions. But their consequences don't end there. Delusional beliefs also cause erroneous inactions.

For example, if you believe “entrepreneurship is risky,” you'll avoid starting a business. If you're a woman and believe “lifting weights makes you big,” you'll avoid lifting weights. If you believe the Earth is flat, you'll avoid a Carnival cruise. Actually, no one should ever cruise Carnival, but that's another story. The point is, delusional beliefs cause both flawed action and inaction, spitting out one gigantic shitstorm of undesirable consequences.

And sorry, because life isn't a book, turning the page isn't an option—you suffer the consequences.

Unfortunately, on your unscripted quest, you'll battle many conspirators affirming your delusions and keeping your 3 B's script aligned. Until they're addressed, nothing changes. Simply put, the road to "fuck you" starts with unfucking the things that are fucking you.

Image summary: This is a pictogram. The figure depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised upward and an object held in one hand. The posture suggests a sense of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Flawed premises yield flawed results. Different results need different premises.

Three Men Make a Tiger

Image summary: This figure is a textual graphic accompanied by a simple illustration. The content features a chapter heading titled The Lies We Believe: The 8 Belief Scams, paired with a stick figure depicted in a celebratory or triumphant pose with arms raised. The image serves as a conceptual introduction to a section of text, suggesting a theme of uncovering deceptive beliefs and achieving a sense of liberation or victory over them.

Chapter 17 The Lies We Believe: The 8 Belief Scams

The Chinese proverb “three men make a tiger” refers to our ability to accept inaccurate, absurd, or irrelevant information as long as enough people repeat it. In effect, the crowd tells you how to think (and live), while critical thinking is shoved under the rug.

Reflect on your life's current circumstances and ask yourself, have “three men” put you here? Have “three men” smothered your life in debt? Have “three men” awarded you with an art history degree that can't get you a job? Have “three men” asked you to forsake five days of personal sovereignty for two? Have you surrendered to crowd-based conventions and now you're wondering, “Crap, is this all there is?”

Once again, the consensus fallacy underscores the “three men.” When universal ideas are repeated and lived by the majority, they are rarely questioned. Has anyone really stopped and asked Why we think and do what we do? Tradition? Because our teachers say so? Because Facebook made it a trending news story?

Why are we indoctrinating our kids to follow the same path we've taken when that path has been a token failure?

Why do people think trading time for money is the only way to make money?

Why do parents force their kids into debt for the promise of jobs that might not exist?

Why do couples rush to get married based on their age, not based on the quality of their relationship?

Why do Republicans believe that unconstrained capitalism has no effect on the environment?

Why do Democrats believe that success should be progressively penalized and that somehow it will translate into better-paying jobs? Why do they believe that government bureaucrats are virtuous and selfless, while the citizens they regulate are not?

Why has your brain been co-opted by a political party, a church, a news outlet, a blog, a radio station, a Facebook group, or books translated by long-deceased conquerors?

You see, anytime you allow a homo-jee-nee-us group to write your thoughts, you slowly poison free thought. For example, many of my readers have already boxed me into a category: M.J is one of these libertarian goons with a cache of guns! M.J is a corporatist! M.J this, M.J that! The truth is, if I disclosed my views on hot-button issues, such as religion, gay marriage, or environmentalism, your eyes would pop their sockets because no box fits me. Perhaps that makes me “independent”—but I call it someone who hasn't crowdsourced their thoughts to the likes of Jon Oliver and poorly written Saturday Night Live skits.

Behind our willingness to outsource thought sits our beliefs.

Beliefs are merely concepts, ideas, and thoughts that we regard as true. And no matter what your beliefs, there's an identical group who believes the same. 9/11 was a government conspiracy: You've got a group. Aliens living among us? You've got a group. While we are free to question and investigate our beliefs, few do. Instead, we seek to ratify them through a collective groupthink. And as a result, they escape critique and transcend, year after year, producing the same old results. Many times, these beliefs aren't our original thoughts but carbon-copy doctrine planted by seeders or co-opted from the crowds we identify with. In other cases, they are generational, passed from ancestry.

“Get a job, baby!”

That's my mom screaming up the stairs. She screeched at me weekly in a voice that could shatter windows and incapacitate an invading infantry. It was after college and I was still leeching off Mom while I struggled to find my entrepreneurial way. My mom was staunchly old-school and regularly hurled these “get a job” Hail Marys straight from the scripted play-book. For her, success was earned nine to five, Monday through Friday.

The point is, thank your parental seeder for some, if not all, of your crowdsourced beliefs. As children, we internalize the beliefs of those around us. If you come from a third-generation military family, you've probably adopted a military mindset. If your parents believe a particular religion, so do you. On my forum, countless young Asian adults complain about their demanding parents who unequivocally, without negotiation, insist they become an engineer or a doctor. The script might as well be etched in stone.

Besides parental conditioning, crowdsourced beliefs also come from your usual gang of seeders: authority figures and communal associations, such as political parties and advocacy organizations. If your favorite actor endorses a particular politician or undertakes a noble crusade to save the dolphins, you will likely adopt a similar belief. If you're a Republican, it's blasphemy if Jim and Joe legally get married. If you're a Democrat, a proposed corporate tax cut feels like a pick-pocketing from Exxon Mobil.

And then there's the worst mind-controlling seeder for belief conscription: the media.

Through selective censorship and headlining the media tells you exactly what to think, when, where, and how much. That anti-gun state senator in California caught gunrunning for criminal gangs? Real story, but meh, not important—give it six-seconds. Miley Cyrus's tongue and her leotard jammed up her ass? Let's give it five minutes and the lede.

The media has morphed from respectable journalists into a pathetic tribe of useful idiots serving useless idiots, looking for the next hot headline—scripted goulash potted in propaganda, garnished in distraction, and flavored for obedience. Journalism isn't dead but “undead,” where hyperrealistic red meat is grilled and then fed to an army of hungry zombies couched in their living rooms. As you can tell, turning this tide ain't gonna be easy.

In the latter half of 2011, the media fermented the stench that was the Occupy Wall Street (O.W.S) movement. Founded by a Canadian anti-consumer and anti-corporate group, the movement's contentious issues were social and economic inequality caused by corruption, particularly corporatism, banking, and government. When I first heard of the movement, I was like, anti-Wall Street? Anti-consumption? These are unscripted virtues; hell yeah, let me check it out!

Unfortunately, after looking deeper into their pet grievances, in my opinion it was nothing but a socialism orgy in a fecal-infested park, a pity party for the lazy, the unemployable, and the intellectually challenged. Of course, their issues weren't about economic inequality but about wealth redistribution and getting something for nothing. I earned a degree in medieval literature! Aren't I entitled to a $250,000 salary after graduation?

The sad thing about the Occupy movement is it had an opportunity to be special—a movement of script awareness and rebellion. Instead, it's a gaggle of Marxist mouthpieces who failed economics and world history. And despite their ridiculous fairy-tale Christmas lists, the media erected them their very own bully pulpit cast in scripted gold.

Anyhow, O.W.S doesn't need more grease than I've given; however, one positive of the uprising is worth mentioning: They put “We are the 99 percent” into the national vernacular. Indeed you are. This cute little 99:1 ratio embodies an unscripted truth: Common 99 percent thinking won't get you uncommon 1 percent results.

Let the crowd do your thinking and you will indeed believe as the crowd and, unfortunately, find yourself with the results of the crowd. This systematic brainwashing is how mediocrity is born, lived, and then buried.

The uncomfortable truth is, our beliefs have been brushed and varnished for years by a brush we haven't owned. Like an antique chair that's been painted over and over, stripping the layers for a fresh coat isn't as easy as a book in one hand and a glass of Merlot in the other.

First, old beliefs must be questioned so inattentional blindness is eliminated. Once the seeds of distrust are planted, they can spawn virally, reprogramming old scripted ideas and thought processes, replacing them with new revelations and new ideas, hence generating new actions. And once the seeds root, your reticular activating system (R.A.S) will give you a helping hand.

Rewriting the scripted O.S starts specifically by exposing, and then polarizing, its eight belief dichotomies. Specifically, when the world thinks White, you're thinking Black. When the world is Buying, you're Selling. It's switching teams from the perennial loser, the 99 percent, to the perennial winner, the 1 percent. And yeah, its difficulty is likened to a lifelong Chicago Bears fan abruptly trashing his Ditka sweater and becoming a cheesehead Packer.

Like the scripted hyperrealities, the eight belief dichotomies are natively deceptive. In fact, I indict them as cold-blooded scams. Culturally engineered and universally foisted, the belief scams ritualize the scripted life paths (Slowlane/Sidewalk) producing 99 percent results aspired by none. Expose, then polarize, the belief dichotomies and suddenly your results can hobnob in the realm of the 1 percent.

Chapter 18 Belief #1 The Shortcut Scam: Ordinary Doesn't Compel Extraordinary

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines positioned beneath the feet. The image suggests a state of victory, celebration, or jumping in excitement.

The Dichotomy: Events (99%) versus Process (1%)

During a sleepless night in 2015, I finally downloaded Words with Friends, the famous Scrabble-like game played by millions. Considering “words” are my current livelihood, I figured I'd give it a play. After suffering crushing loss after loss, something smelled rotten. My opponents seemed to be fluent in genetics, molecular biology, and PhD-level horticulture. Played against me were words like “amitoses,” “auxins,” and “zoea”. After a quick search online, I found the stink's source: the game is filled with cheaters.

Turning out, there are multiple hacks giving *players,* and I use that term loosely, the best word to play given all options. After uncovering the scheme, I could only shake my head in disgust at my fellow humans.

I share this story because it typifies the laziness that plagues society, both mentally and physically. It typifies how the shortcut scam of the event/process belief dichotomy keeps mediocre lives mediocre while stifling accomplishment and personal growth. The shortcut scam is the idea that extraordinary results can be achieved by uncovering a secret bypass or a miracle weapon, and such can skirt the real hard work that actually creates the extraordinary results.

For example, most infomercials are predicated on the shortcut scam.

Busting out of your Calvins? Muffin top crying for mercy? No problem, here's a fat-suffocating girdle that can compress that huge gut of yours. Your friends will think you've lost twenty pounds overnight! Or better, why bother with corsets when there's the 40 to 960 Fat Shredder pill! Never mind the shitshow in the pantry headlined by a Costco-sized crate of Oreos. None of it is a match for 40 to 960 Fat Shredder! Hell, that stuff is endorsed by Dr. Shnoz!

And while we're on the subject, have you noticed that every year some diet guru is peddling some hot new “secret ingredient” that will magically reverse decades of nutritional neglect and make you a supermodel in just weeks? And then, once it's discovered it doesn't work and the fad dies, next year another super-ingredient appears. Coffee Bean! Garcia Cambogia! Giraffe Urine!

The same game is played with success and financial independence. Just order my awesome new “Internet secrets” program for just three easy payments of $39.95, you'll be on your way to millions. But wait, there's more. Act now and you'll get a free website too! Once you fire up this templated plug-and-play website, the cash will roll in! But wait, there's more!

Order today and you'll get one free month of secret access to our secret toll-free hotline with our secret coaching superstars. Oh, don't worry, these “coaches” aren't minimum-wage stiffies hired off the street. Nope, they're actual millionaires who have so much time on their hands that they're willing to sit in a call center eight hours a day fielding calls from the fools who believe it!

Oh, and my favorite shortcut scheme? It's pharmaceutical companies who aren't in the business of curing disease; they're in the business of obscuring symptoms. Heck, I've suffered through enough drug commercials that I'm thinking prescription drugs are the transformational secret from a sedentary existence into an action-packed life.

Moderate to severe depression? Ask your doctor about Axapraxacoris and in no time you'll be mountain biking in Italy and zip-lining in Costa Rica! Side effects? Anal leakage, diarrhea, liver failure, heart palpitations, stroke, and sometimes death. Clearly the product works; guys who shit their pants and die horseback riding solve their depression.

Going back to my Word with Friends story, the implications of the shortcut scam are clear: My competitors weren't interested in improving game skills, vocabulary, or visual perceptions (the macro-process). Instead, the shortcut scam goaded them to install a cheat program so victory could be claimed without effort (the event), while simultaneously misrepresenting that they're brilliant.

Not surprising. As bees are to honey, so is the world's thirst for the shortcut. Look everywhere, Buzz Lightyear, the promise of shortcuts, shortcuts, shortcuts. That guru, the drug company, that financial planner, that plastic surgeon, the personal trainer—everyone claims to have the secret shortcut that will make you millions, snuff out that turkey neck, abolish that pregnancy weight, and make you an instant Casanova in bed. Just hand over your cash and the secret is yours.

We live in a microwave culture that demands fast results—not next week, not tomorrow, not after breakfast, but Now. We want what we want, and we want it quick and easy.

The truth is, many folks reading this book are looking for a shortcut. And after they discover there is no shortcut perched on a silver platter, and instead hard work and late nights are required, they'll tweet to their seventeen followers that this book is crap. Boo hoo, M.J didn't give me the easy button!

Event Idealism: The Road to Disappointment

The shortcut scam's genesis comes from a culture that encourages and promotes event idealism while dismissing the process-principle. Event idealism is when your behavior is geared toward fabulous outcomes with a predisposition toward short-term gratification and quick results. It denies process, overlooking the necessity of daily rituals and habits and, instead, expects fantastic results effortlessly. Conversely, the process-principle is an intelligent awareness that extraordinary results require an extraordinary effort consisting of daily habits, routines, and sacrifices.

T.L.D.R; To put it another way, the shortcut doesn't exist.

Everything in life can be analyzed by the event/process model. Its partnership is inseparable as cause and effect. Process slowly heats the cause while events boil the effects.

For example, if you bake a soufflé, the recipe and the timed mixing of the ingredients are the process; the sight and smell of the finished product are the event. When Michael Phelps wins nine gold medals in the 2008 Olympics and consequently makes millions in endorsements afterwards, his triumphs are the event. Behind the wins was a grueling process that largely goes ignored: relentless, rigorous training and yearly sacrifices—the daily routines that make the event a possibility.

To the untrained brain set on an event idealism, processes that birth great events are largely ebook3000 dot com dismissed and definitely not very interesting. Awakening at 4 AM and diving into an empty pool to swim laps? Meh. On the other hand, events grab headlines, herd eyeballs, and elicit talk around the watercooler.

Gold medals? Endorsement deals worth millions? If only I could be so lucky to have such genetics! A twenty-eight-year-old entrepreneur who sold his company for $50 million is newsworthy; the fact that he drove a beat-up Civic and hadn't had a vacation in years is not.

The unscripted understand that uncomfortable processes precede progress which causes the event. Without it, progress can't exist and the event never arrives. And whenever you try to circumvent that process, you become event-driven and vulnerable to shortcuts. And shortcuts cost you money.

Take for example diet pills. When you buy the latest diet fad pushed by the latest diet guru, cut the bullshit and admit what you're doing. You're trying to accelerate or buy fitness (the event) instead of suffering exercise and dietary change (the process).

When you finance a new Beemer for seventy-two months because you're cash short (the event), you're buying success instead of earning success (the process). Heck, if ya can't be rich now, perhaps you can look rich now? Two hours of nauseating negotiating, a signature on thirty pages of documents, and wham, success! Never mind your rocking new ride parked on your parents' driveway.

Another purveyor of an event modality is Hollywood, infecting young, impressionable minds with grandiose event-driven ilk. I could write a book on it, but for the sake of brevity, here's a few paragraphs.

A common plot device used by crappy screenwriters is Deus Ex Machina—or God from the Machine. This is where, seemingly from nowhere, an unsolvable problem or untenable situation is suddenly resolved by a weakly contrived and unexpected event. There's that word again implying quick and magical results.

When you're tied up and sentenced to death by Nazis, isn't it fortunate that the Ark of the Covenant spits fire and kills them all? Or how about Earth is getting annihilated by space aliens and they just happened to fail astrobiology, forgetting that bacterial decontamination is Space 101?

Oh, and there's the sappy "chick flicks." How many of them end with a spectacular wedding ceremony? Hitch. Runaway Bride. The Wedding Singer. The list is mountainous and I haven't even gotten into the new millennium.

Anyhow, you know how the closing scene rolls: After a big epiphany that the two jilted lovers can't live without each other, a big wedding event is paraded; everyone smiles ear-to-ear while jubilantly dancing with a feel-good song strumming in the background. Bride and groom kiss at sunset. Onlookers cry and smile. Fade out with elevation.

Story ends. The credits roll. Happily ever after. Or is it?

Hollywood marriage is the ultimate event idealism and molestation of the process-principle. In movies, marriage is always represented as a grand event. The expensive affair has spawned the term “bridezilla,” which is code for a woman who believes a six-hour event shall be life's pinnacle, something headlining T.M.Z and stopping Earth from spinning.

For the bridezilla who's seen the movies—Pride and Prejudice, and the 90,000 others—the wedding declares you and your partner have arrived, and happily ever after will be your gift. Just like Facebook, these movies present the sanitized version of marriage, the shared experience, the party—the event. Swept aside is the real process that must come afterwards: the compromise, the growing old together, and the hard work that marriage naturally requires of its partners—the process.

Of course, you don't see process. But what you do see are the credits rolling. Your mind fills the gaps and immediately resigns “happily ever after” as an event, not a process. Do nineteen-year-old bridezillas pissing their panties for a wedding know it's an hour-long event and a marriage is for life? A 50 percent divorce rate shouldn't shock anyone; without process, it's just two delusional people sharing expenses and suffocating under the shortcut scam.

The Hollywood-marriage plotline is one example of how the media subliminally frames us into event idealism and one that is destructive not only to marriage but to life. Events become the focus, and process becomes the proverbial redheaded stepchild. Event idealism is the secret to accomplishing nothing and failing at everything.

For example, another event-driven consequence evolving from shortcut thinking is what I call: “action-faking.” Action-faking (as opposed to “action-taking”) is when you take solitary and/or uncommitted action that is not a part of a bigger process. Instead, you're acting not to imbue real change but to “feel good” by momentarily fooling yourself about progress. Action-faking can be many things, from trivial busywork to data research to reading books—none of which coax progress.

You might indeed act, maybe once or twice, but your actions aren't directly correlated to what moves the needle. Instead, we're tricking our brains into secreting a momentary dopamine high, fooling ourselves with the progress illusions, when in truth, we're wasting time.

For the aspiring entrepreneur who wants to get rich, be his own boss, and blah blah, “action-faking” is ordering business cards from Vistaprint. Look at that, they say you're a C.E.O! Woo hoo, you're the head honcho of a zero-revenue, zero-customer, zero-asset company!

Action-faking event.

It's spending a fortune on office desks and equipment before you've landed your first customer. Wow, look at those mahogany desks! Imagine the deals going down there!

Action-faking event.

This type of entrepreneurial masturbation is jerking your meat, convincing yourself that you're "making progress" while the sad reality persists: you aren't any closer to finding the love of your life, finding a customer, or making a profit.

Do you lift? Ask anyone who works out regularly and they'll stinkface the affirmative: Januaries Suck at the gym. Every January, gyms experience overcrowding as new faces storm in—event idealism "action-fakers"—New Year's Resolutioners who decide after X decades, this year is different! I'm getting in shape, losing weight, and changing!

And bam, three weeks later, the gym is back to normal. Classic action-faking. In fact, anytime I hear someone say, "I'm on a diet," I want to throat-punch them and shout, "Action-faker!" The word "diet" implies temporary. It implies failure. It implies that whatever you're doing for three days or three weeks will not become habit or a part of your lifestyle. Diets die. Habits do not.

Real, permanent change does not come from event idealism or from shortcuts. It comes from a daily, regimented process woven into the fabric of your life, automatic and nearly instinctual.

Event-Driven Entrepreneurship: A Failure of Process

Unfortunately, wayward entrepreneurs with event modalities are the rule rather than the exception. Examine the poor reviews for this book, my last book, and any book relating to money or entrepreneurship. The common theme will be that the paint-by-numbers shortcut was not bibbed and spoon-fed into the entrepreneur's salivating mouth. And for those lost entrepreneurs, the search continues tirelessly, at least until their next job hunt.

For example, this is the type of frustration I feel when trying to open the eyes of event-idealized thinkers.

Wannabe Entrepreneur: I want those beautiful roses blooming across the river. Can you help me get them?

M.J: Sure, but crossing the raging river isn't easy or quick. Ready to learn? ebook3000 dot com

Wannabe Entrepreneur: Meh, just give me the roses.

M.J: Huh?

Wannabe Entrepreneur: You've already crossed the river; just give me your big boat; or better yet, just give me the roses.

M.J: Uhh...ever heard about learning to fish versus given a fish?

Wannabe Entrepreneur: Fishing? Rivers? I don't care about this stuff and I am only interested in the roses. I've seen many Instagram posts where people flaunt their roses and they sound glorious. Do you think I can PayPal $997 to my favorite Internet marketing guru and get the "super-secret" for them roses?

M.J: *Sigh*. If you want the roses, you need to learn how to cross the river yourself. There aren't any shortcuts. I can give you the blueprint for crossing but you're going to need tools, hammers, wood, nails, and some other things, so you can build a system for crossing. It might take some time to find and learn these tools, but trust me, once you cross, the roses are incredible! It's worth the effort.

Wannabe Entrepreneur: This doesn't sound fun or easy, and it's not my passion. I want to do what I love. How about this ice cream cone I'm eating? I love it and I'm passionate about it. Will stuffing my face with it help me get the roses?

M.J: Huh? What does your ice cream have to do with the roses or the river that stops you from getting them?

Wannabe Entrepreneur: Mmmm...but I love this ice cream cone.

M.J: {furrows brow} Did you hear anything I just said?

Wannabe Entrepreneur: {looks up from his cone, face smothered in ice cream} So...can you give me your boat?

In this story, the roses are the event (success) and the raging river is the obstacle: sacrifices, struggles, and the failures (the process). The advice (the tools) given don't sound easy, fun, or quick, so the wannabe focuses on irrelevancies, namely, a continued search for the tasty event-driven shortcut (give me your boat, give me cash) underscored by love and passion. And finally, the ice cream cone is the action-fake—it feels good now; it doesn't help and is gone in minutes.

Polarizer: The Process-Principle

My first book took me three years to write. This one nearly three as well. In both cases, I had urges to quit. Multiple times. I'd write six chapters, read it, and end it in the shredder. I'd flail my hands in the air and whine like a baby because my perfectionist mind ruled: It sucks. Sometimes I'd pen my frustrations on my forum so everyone saw process is not easy. And each time the angst boiled, I set it aside and reaffirmed to myself that if it was easy, it wouldn't be worth it.

This is what happens when you vacate event idealism and adopt a process-principle. Frustration and angst, while felt, are squashed. Expectations adjusted from ease to challenge. Obstacles, expected and overcome. And most important...shit, while not quickly, gets done. Here are nine steps to help you moving toward the process side of the event/process dichotomy:

1. Intelligent Awareness

2. Modify Expectations/Realign Difficulty

3. Identify and Visualize the Change Target

4. Apply Mathematics to the Goal

5. Segment Goal into Its Daily Action

6. Identify Threats to the Target

7. Identify the Right Battlefield

8. Attack Bad Habits with Inconvenience/Pain

9. Act until Echo

Step #1: Intelligent Awareness to Neurological Defaults

Obviously, an “intelligent awareness” of event idealism isn't sweeping the nation. The diet and weight-loss industry is 60 billion strong. The infomercial marketing business, 170 billion. The automotive industry, ginormous, more than 1 trillion, accounting for a whopping 3.5 percent of the country's entire G.N.P (gross national product). Oh, and since you're reading this book, the self-improvement business, nearly 11 billion.

The sad truth is your brain is not wired for process but for event-oriented shortcuts intended for efficiency. And it loves assumptions, basing everything on memories or past reference points. Without our brain's optimization features, we'd be no better than a goldfish swimming on instinct. But this mental efficiency has its exploitive drawbacks.

For instance, magicians leverage our neural bias toward shortcuts and "fill in the blank" gap assumptions. Magic is all about attention and distraction, using our lazy brains and their cognitive shortcuts and algorithms against us. Unfortunately, that same neuroscience giving magicians power also gives the script power through event-driven thinking, putting you on the perennial losing team. This neurological awareness is the first step toward a process modality.

For example, the best event/process model is our health because it reflects process preceding progression or regression. That beach babe with the guns of steel and flat stomach? Process, daily exercise and a disciplined diet entailing huge sacrifices. The visual result of a fit and healthy body is the event.

Likewise, that fat dude I saw last week at the casino, who ate his way into a wheelchair and went back to the buffet line six times, is morbidly obese via process: decades of sedentary living and poor dietary decisions. American fatness is a consequence of event idealism—an eating event feeds our addiction to feel good now, as opposed to the disciplined process of eating properly and feeling good later.

The next time you go grocery shopping, try cart-creeping—spying into other people's shopping carts. Pick any outlier—someone obese or someone fit. Match their food content in their carts with their body type.

More than likely, they'll be a perfect match. This exercise gives you the ability to do the impossible: you can witness a process before the process occurs. By examining someone's food choices, you get a sneak peek into their eating habits for the next week.

Spot a fit guy and he will have lean meats, vegetables, and raw, "close to nature" choices. The person who'd sink a small canoe will have highly processed and sugary foods: cookies, soda, chips, and whatever else "highs" their now. Obesity is a dereliction of process, while fitness is a testament to it. Health can't be shortcutted—bought, stolen, cheated, bribed, operated on—and it can't be injected. It must be earned. Indeed, we are walking advertisements for the event/process dichotomy.

Step #2: Modify Expectations and Realign the Source of Difficulty

After awareness, the next step is realigning expectations: extraordinary results demand extraordinary efforts. That means give up the ghost and kill the shortcut search. Kill the idea that excellence can be accomplished with mediocre effort. The real difficulty is accepting there is no shortcut. Give up the assumptions about those who accomplish great things and that their results are automatically Deus Ex Machina, not process.

The fact is, people struggle with their goals because they refuse the process-principle. Jumping from ebook3000 dot com one promised shortcut to another, their difficulty is not related to process, but to the everlasting search for a shortcut that doesn't exist.

I just can't lose any weight!

Oh really?

I've known you for two decades and you've never hit the gym or eaten properly. In other words, you can't lose weight because you can't find the shortcut to lose weight. No wonder it's so difficult! And the research proves America's resistance to process and their thirst for shortcuts. According to Marketdata Enterprises, roughly seventy-five million dieters admit being fickle and simply shift from fad to fad.

Success is simpler than you think: ax the shortcut, honor the process-principle, and do the necessary work. Dump the diet pills, the fat girdle, and the fads; eat properly twenty meals out of twenty-one and get your ass to the gym, sprint, play tennis—for the love of God, do freaking something. And wham, you succeed.

Step #3: Identify and Visualize the Change Target

What exactly do you want?

Envision yourself time-shifting one year into the future at a New Year's Eve party. Envision yourself celebrating the year that was, the year that changed everything. Take a moment and reflect on the accomplishments you hope to celebrate. Did you win a fitness competition? Did you start a new business and double your income?

Complete a full-length novel? Identify Exactly what you want to feel and see yourself there. If you don't identify where you want to go, the road to get there stays hidden.

Step #4: Apply Mathematics to the Goal

After envisioning how awesome your new year will be, attach a numerical figure to your goal.

It “lose weight” is the goal, this would translate into “lose twenty-five pounds” or “get to 12 percent body fat.” Likewise, if your goal is to “start a business,” you would need to identify a numerical number, say sales, profits, or number of customers.

The mathematics of change are crucially important as ambiguous milestones cannot be measured and often are preludes for action-fakes. For instance, my gym once publicly posted the goals of some members. As I scoured over them, I'd guess two-thirds of them were subjective goals, such as “get healthy” or “feel better.” If ambiguous statements delineate goals, you short-circuit the feedback loop because there is no measurement apparatus. You also bury the finish line.

Step #5: Identify the Daily Action Target

After isolating the goal and quantifying it, break it down into its core “take-action” component, or what I call “the daily target.” What daily routine will get you there? For example, if your objective is to write a novel, your daily target could be to write 500 words every day, or a minimum of two hours. If your objective is 12 percent body fat, your daily target would be to work out and/or eat no more than 2,000 calories. The important thing here is to isolate the macro-process that builds the habit.

If your goal cannot be measured, use daily accounting. For example, if “get smarter” is a goal, the daily target could be to learn one new thing every day.

Step #6: Identify Threats to the Daily Target

What threatens your daily target? In order to hit your targets, identify what will stop you from achieving them. What impedes success and prevents real change?

Success is more about what you need to Stop doing versus Start doing. Are you spending five hours a day on Facebook playing the latest game? Are you jumping from one idea to the next with no focused action or plan? Does your ego require an expensive B.M.W—which then requires a sixty-hour-a-week, soul-sucking corporate job? The hardest part of the process—principle is repetition; greatness is a lot of small things done daily.

Step #7: Identify the Proper Battlefields

You can't build new habits without an intelligent awareness applied to the proper battlefields. Most people fight their wars on the wrong battlefield, resulting in loss after loss. If you only knew where to fight, you would have a fighting chance to create the change you want.

If you want to lose fifty pounds, pinpoint where the battle is won and lost. Most would think the battle is fought in the kitchen. As you walk in, the battle begins:

O.M.G, don't eat that ice cream! Pick something else!

Mmm, I'd love a cold Pepsi right about now...but I shouldn't.

Those Cheetos are calling my name...but I should have the celery.

Sorry, but you already lost before you entered the kitchen: The battle isn't fought in the kitchen but at the grocery store. The instant you put this crap in your shopping cart is the instant you lost the war. Likewise, if you're spending hours watching mindless reality television, the battle isn't on the couch with the remote control; it's on the telephone. Pick up the phone and cancel the freaking cable T.V. Wage war on the wrong battlefield and you'll be armed with sticks and stones while regression fights with an A.R-15.

Step #8: Attack Bad Habits With Inconvenience and/or Pain

Once battlegrounds are identified, you can attack your bad habits. How? By leveraging your natural human instinct to seek the path of least resistance. Put the shortcut scam in your corner by turning bad habits into a royal pain in the ass.

Make them invasive. Inconvenient, and with no shortcuts.

In our refrigerator example, if you've won the war at the grocery store, you now have attached inconvenience to the bad habit. If you want ice cream, you've got to hop in your car, drive to the store, troll the grocery aisle, buy it, and drive home. Not super complicated, but certainly not super convenient.

If you're trying to stop playing video games, pack up your Xbox console and sell it. Or throw it in the attic. Now if you want to play, you've got to climb a ceiling ladder and crawl through a dusty attic to unpack it, wire it up, and play.

Step #9: Act Until Echo

A process modality's final step transforms actions into habit. Whatever your goal, act until echo. Take disciplined action until a feedback loop kicks on. Vow to work until your first echo occurs and then—and only then—decide your next step. Do I continue? Adjust? Or stop?

Years ago, my college sweetheart left me for some big-shot ad executive who wore expensive suits and talked with a slithery tongue. Back then, I was lost and, let's just say, she deservedly needed to jump ship. Anyhow, to assuage my grief, I hit the gym for the first time in my life. The gym medicated my sorrows. While this distraction started as an action-fake, it later transformed into a process. By the time I was over the breakup, I experienced my first feedback echoes: I felt better and my gangly stick arms grew some apples. People commented on my subtle transformation, and the echo reinforced the activity from a temporary distraction into a process. Once your effort strikes echoes, it reaffirms your actions, becoming habit, sometimes addictive, and as automatic as brushing your teeth.

The point is, whatever the goal, work until you strike your first echo. And when that happens, notice how you feel. Once you get to that first echo, there's usually no going back. Even if it's marginal results, you empower yourself forward.

I recently heard a great analogy for this in Gary Keller's book, The One Thing (recommended read). The process-principle and its echoes can be visualized as a line of dominoes, where each sequential domino gets progressively larger. When you start, the very first domino knocked over is incredibly small.

When it drops, nothing is felt or heard. However, its velocity is enough to knock over the next, slightly larger domino. That domino continues the progression, toppling the next larger one. As the dominoes get bigger and fall, suddenly you start hearing and feeling them drop. It's music to your ears, motivating you forward.

The process continues until the last domino tumbles over, a gigantic domino symbolizing your goal—competing in a fitness competition, saving a million bucks, getting out of debt—and it started with a tiny, insignificant domino, which cascaded into incredible change velocity. And yet, the ascending dominoes perfectly illustrate why event-driven failures fail: They start at the biggest domino and are powerless to budge it. If they only saw that it's the little things that cause the big things.

Chapter 19 Belief #2 The Special Scam: “I'm Not Good at That”

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet to suggest upward motion. The image conveys a sense of victory, success, or achievement, implying that the individual has reached a goal or won a competition.

To me, the function and duty of a quality human being is the sincere and honest development of one's potential.

~ Bruce Lee, Martial Artist

The Dichotomy: Fixed (99%) versus Growth (1%)

In 2004, at the age of twenty-seven, Josh Waitzkin won a world title in Tai Chi Chuan. He also went on to win thirteen national championships. Later, he'd become a championship coach, leading his team to several world titles. He's also a black belt in Brazilian jujitsu. If this is the first time you've heard about Mr. Waitzkin and his achievements, you might guess he was born with talent. Or that's he's been practicing martial arts ever since childhood.

In both cases, you'd be wrong.

Josh's accolades are indeed impressive. However, what's more impressive is that Josh's didn't start studying martial arts until he was twenty-one. And before that Mr. Waitzkin was, let's just say, more geek than athlete. He was the story behind the Hollywood movie Finding Bobby Fischer, as he was the only person to win consecutive chess championships: the National Primary, Elementary, Junior High, High School, U.S Cadet, and the U.S Closed Juniors.

Early in Josh's childhood, he was labeled “a prodigy,” and one might argue he was. However, according to Josh, the greatest thing that ever happened to him was when he lost his first national chess championship. The defeat taught him about the psychological traps of definitive, fixed labels—such as “You are special” and “You are a prodigy”—and how they can create false impressions so that hard work suddenly becomes optional.

As he put it, “I had felt my mortality,” and after the breakthrough, he would go on to dominate the scholastic chess scene for the next eight years.

The point of this story demonstrates just how dangerous the special scam is, even to a world-class achiever. The special scam is a double-edged belief that our innate talents are enough to accomplish our dreams or that our innate talents are immovable, fixed characteristics immune from improvement. The special scam tells us hard work is optional because we're already awesome, or it's worthless because we can't change our skills. Either way, the special scam says, "I wasn't born with that kind of talent" or "I'm great; I don't need to improve." Both justify avoiding the grind of improvement.

Compliments of today's over-coddled and over-selfied culture salted by an anti-success and anti-competitive media, the special scam has granted us trophy kids: youngsters born rock stars, awarded trophies for no particular reason; participative prodigies worthy of a crown, a stage, and an audience. Sometimes trophy kids take the stage on American Idol as horrific singers, making for great laughs and ratings. Underneath these failed performances are delusional vocalists who have fallen for the special scam—they believed the counterfeit adulation showered upon them from prejudiced stakeholders: parents, siblings, and friends. And the next thing you know, Simon Cowell is grimacing and telling talentless crooners to pound sand.

Take Instagram, for instance. In my opinion, it's one gigantic shit-show of self-important narcissism. Some people have Instagram accounts with over 1,000 photos posted.

The 1,000 photos are not what's impressively sad; it's that those photos are of themselves in various stages of flex, undress, partying, whatever. Narcissism is being damn kind; this is sickness. Clearly achievement's barometer nowadays is measured by how many likes and comments your margarita selfie receives. Me, me, me, as if anyone really cares.

The special scam also has created a vocal tribe of “Dunning-Krugers”—a psychological deficiency where incompetent people don't know they're incompetent because they can't distinguish between the two. Dunning-Krugers infest the internet, particularly in the comment sections wherever comments are allowed.

The other day, I read an article about celebrated entrepreneur Elon Musk, a businessman whose accomplishments put him in the 99.99 percentile. Unfortunately, I was in the mood for a little self-mutilation and mistakenly read the comments. A majority of them thought 99.99 just wasn't that impressive. Comment after comment criticized Musk, a virtual convention of armchair do-nothing who, unfortunately, have a platform to voice their stupid opinions founded on nothing but their ability to construct a sentence from their parents' basement.

Underneath the special scam lies the greatest destructive force to our dreams: a fixed mindset. A fixed mindset is the belief that talent alone causes success and that your basic qualities of intelligence, athleticism, and even rhythm are fixed traits that cannot be changed or improved. Ha, yes, rhythm!

In college, my dorm neighbor was a Puerto Rican kid who could hip-hop dance with the best of them. Anytime he showcased his moves, the dance floor parted like the Red Sea and it was an instant Night at the Apollo. Anyway, I started hanging out with my neighbor, going to clubs and dance raves. Slowly, I picked up his skills. He took notice and started guiding me. In a matter of months, I was dancing like him, parting my own Red Seas. If you're not impressed, you should be; I was a geeky, uncoordinated white kid from the suburbs.

Soon we were dancing in Chicago's inner hoods and battling with the best of the best. Heck, every once in a while, w'ed really live adventurously and pop into an Omega Psi Phi party. Anyhow, the demonstrative point of my hip-hop escapades is that new skills can be acquired and mastered regardless of your current level of talent or intelligence. And yet, had I suffered from a fixed mindset, I would have resigned to fixed statements of existence: "I can't dance and have no rhythm; I'm just a pasty white dude from the suburbs."

Fixed-mindset research has been well documented, studied, and proven.

Carol Dweck, PhD, is the leading researcher in the field of motivation at Stanford University and the pioneer behind the fixed-mindset discovery. Her book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success explores just how dangerous a fixed mindset is to personal growth, success, and even child development.

In one of her studies, Dweck and her colleagues gave fifth graders ten easy problems from a nonverbal I.Q test. After completing the problems, the kids were given either of two types of praise: (1) fixed, intelligence praise, such as, “That's a really great score; you must be smart”; or (2) growth, effort praise, such as, “That's a really great score; you must have really worked hard.”

Later in the experiment, the children were then given an opportunity to do another test of their choice, one described as easy, or one described as challenging. Their preference heavily swayed upon the type of praise they received prior. A whopping 67 percent of the intelligence-praised children opted for the easy test, while 92 percent of the effort-praised chose the challenging one.

Dweck goes on to explain how fixed-mindset praise can create an environment where students feel the need to prove intelligence while simultaneously avoiding risks or challenges. She explains, “As a result [of the fixed praise] they enter a fixed mindset, they play it safe in the future and limit the growth of their talent.”

Further in the experiment, the students were given an impossible test designed to incite failure. Once again, the fixed-mindset group performed statistically poorly against their effort-praised counterparts, becoming frustrated easily and giving up early. And lastly, each group was given one final test as easy as the first. These results proved costly as well to the fixed-mindset group: the average score dropped by 20 percent, while the average score of the effort-praised group increased by 30 percent, a staggering 50 percent difference.

Further testing also uncovered another unsettling outcome: Children who receive fixed praise view imperfections as shameful, so much so that the kids lied them away. Dweck admits, “What's so alarming is we took ordinary children and made them into liars, simply by telling them they were smart.”

These results were so profound it was tested six additional times, each yielding the same outcome. Furthermore, students praised with participation trophies and “you are special” affirmations don't do well later in education or in life. Their reaction toward challenge, equally disheartening. They readily admit cheating over studying.

After failing, they simply look at someone else who did worse just to make themselves feel better. And in countless study after study, they flee from difficulty.

Remember my brush with cheaters in the Words with Friends game? Take a look at the reviews for the cheating app allowing fixed-mindset types to flee from difficulty:

I began using this app approximately one month ago and instantly became one of the top players in my lodge!

All my friends seem to pretty much beat the pants off me. So having this app, or anything I can use to even up the odds, is something that really makes me happy.

Yeah, these are actual reviews for the cheating application. Makes me wonder how much these players received fixed praise as children. Mommy said you're a genius. Teacher said you're special! And now that the real world exposed the lie, hearty challenges are not worth effort, and instead, cheating becomes cool. Notice the words used as well: “top players” and “even up the odds.” Uh, no. You're not the top player and you didn't even up the odds—you fucking cheated.

People with fixed mindsets aren't spending time improving or developing their skills; instead, they're focused on proving, finding, or documenting their talent or intelligence. (Comments section, anyone?) And in many cases like my Words with Friends example, hiding their lack of it. Criticism, nonessential and rejected. Obstacles, avoided. In fact, when a fixed mindset is presented with an error, their brain activity is virtually dead, while the brains of those who thrive on challenge are on fire. And the success of others? That's when you hear such blathering as “luck” or “he knew the right people.”

The reality is, a fixed mindset is destroying our younger generation's ability to cope. Whatever they call it, "self-esteem building" builds nothing and instead cripples dreams, creating fragile buttercups who can't handle life's harsh realities. Such evidence took center stage after the 2016 presidential election of Donald Trump. After winning, thousands took the streets to whine, cry, and riot. Professors canceled exams. Nationwide, campuses offered students free counseling, therapy dogs, and Play-Doh.

Bruce Tulgan, the author of Not Everyone Gets a Trophy (recommended read) mentions the deficiencies of the millennial generation as seen by today's employers and recounts one employer's assessment who said:"It's very hard to give them negative feedback without crushing their egos...they walk in thinking they know more than they know." Once they figure out that, nope, you're not special because you showed up—you're only special when you earn it—they're crushed.

Polarizer: The Kaizen Principle

I have a confession. I'm not interested in fame or the spotlight. I hate public speaking, interviews or whatever throws me on the public stage. I, by all definitions, am a hardcore introvert. And yet, despite my “hate” for these activities, I still do them. Why? Because I'm not very good at them. And to get better at them, I have to do them. And so it goes with a growth mindset.

While doing a gazillion podcasts won't turn me into an extrovert, they do help me improve. Extroversion and introversion have been proven to be genetically predisposed; however, how one reacts to the predisposition is where the coffee is perked. Had I been infected with a fixed mindset and the special scam, I wouldn't bother with interviews. Instead, I'd justify, "I'm an introvert and not good at those." Case closed.

However, how you approach your strengths and weaknesses comes down to your mindset. Do you accept your characteristics as facts, rigid constructs of existence, immovable and impervious to alteration? Or do you accept your weaknesses as malleable and open for improvement? Once you become aware that neuroplasticity—your brain's ability to form new neural connections—is possible, intelligence and skill no longer await just the victors of the genetic lottery.

We live in a spectacular time. The world's encyclopedic knowledge is accessible with a few simple keystrokes at Google. You can learn, discover, or find anything. For example, here's a comment by a former wage slave:

After 5 years of college, I got a degree. Right out of the gate, I was at the top of my field, earning a solid mid-5-figure salary. There was no upward mobility. I started at the top, at age 23. I did that for 3 years. With free info from the Internet and one 299 course, I learned everything I needed to know to make 3x that salary in a year and a half. In another 5 years, that meager college-degree salary will be so far in the rear view mirror that I won't even remember what life was like to make so little. The Internet has largely rendered college, and education in general, irrelevant. For those that want to learn anything, open your browser and get to it.

You see, you might not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but don't fret—you're surrounded by pencil sharpeners. The world is already yours, but only if you're willing to go get it.

A growth mindset is how Josh Waitzkin goes from a chess champion to a champion in martial arts. It's how I go from knowing nothing about programming to coding a web application. A growth mindset knows where challenge lies and accepts the Kaizen Principle (and the process-principle) as part of the build.

The Kaizen Principle is to endeavor to create tiny incremental improvements in your daily life with an aim for mastery over performance, while forsaking external comparisons, unless such comparisons inspire. The three key operands here are: 1) Tiny incremental improvements 2) mastery over performance and 3) external comparison.

First, the only concerning metric is You. Have you done something today, no matter how small, to improve whatever needs improving? Are you moving the needle or action-faking? You are your only competition, and the process-principle will drive that change.

Second, aim for mastery over performance: be the best at something You can be. It is 100 percent You-oriented and not centered on performance or competitive rankings. Mastery doesn't care about how you are judged by others. It's only about “getting better” (you) over “being better” (others).

And third, refrain from comparing yourself to others, especially rock stars in your field. If you're aiming to improve your fitness and finished your first month of training, it's probably not a good idea to compare your bikini body to some Instagram fitness model with three million followers. Comparison is the path to perpetual misery.

There's always someone richer, faster, hotter, fitter, or whatever. And yeah, I also advise staying off Facebook so you're not comparing everyone's highlight reels to your daily rigor. That is unless it inspires you.

And lastly, don't believe your own press clippings. I get a ton of email thanking me: a life changed, a fortune being made, or a paradigm being smashed. It's flattering but an invitation to a fixed mindset. These raves could wallpaper my office, but ogling them implies, "I am successful" or "I've made it," and both suggest fixed permanence where I can sleep in, show up last, and leave first.

So, if Mom raves you're the best thing since sliced bread, don't believe it. If coach says you're the best quarterback he's trained since Drew Brees, thank him, smile, and ask, "How can I get better?" Through her breakthrough research, Carol Dweck has give us a defense to a fixed-mindset while promoting its antithesis: growth. Never praise talent or ability, either for yourself or for a child. Instead, praise the process-principle.

Praise improvements, habits, growth, and efforts. Praise how far you've come, and one day, you'll praise your results.

Chapter 20 Belief #3 The Consumption Scam: How Much Time Did That Cost?

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet suggesting upward movement or jumping. The image conveys a sense of victory, achievement, and excitement.

No society ever thrived because it had a large and growing class of parasites living off those who produce.

~ Thomas Sowell, Economist

The Dichotomy: Consumer (99%) versus Producer (1%)

During a visit to the county landfill, I parked my truck in front of a junk heap and stared. As I meditated on the garbage piled as high as a demolished apartment building, it struck me that everything in this gigantic entangled mass was once new. State-of-the-art. An object of want. There were B.B.Q grills, bikes, toys, lawn furniture, stoves, picture frames, wine racks; it was a graveyard of past desires, a swollen scrap heap of residually accumulated consumption.

Then I thought: Someone once opened their wallet, swiped a credit card, and bought this stuff. And now, here it lies as worthless junk, while its debt probably remains.

The consumerism hyperreality has consequences. Behind the debt and the landfill, those consequences are belied by the consumer scam—a belief where consumerism is perceived exclusively interdependent of production. That is, we rarely link our consumption to its equal or corresponding production necessity and the time it requires.

The consumer scam's cognitive disconnect starts as kids. As toddlers, we're programmed to attribute consumption with emotions, whether it's fun, happiness, or a particular status. Throughout the years, we badger our parents for toys and other playful things. Underneath these innocent desires an unfortunate neural connection builds: the idea that “stuff” can induce positive emotions without consequence. And because our parents pay the tab, such mental connections carry a destructive payload: consumption and production are not correlated.

In the classic film A Christmas Story, Ralphie is irrationally obsessed with a Red Ryder B.B gun. For Ralphie, the gun represents many things: happiness, fulfillment, coming of age with responsibility, and even rejection of authority (“You'll shoot your eye out!”). Like Ralphie's lust for the B.B gun, adults attach the same irrational zealousness to their wants. Buying this car will make me feel, “I've made it!” This purse gives me the feeling that I'm affluently refined and classy! While there's nothing wrong with aspiring to own a Porsche while adorned in Armani, what's ultimately lost in these wants is production. Specifically, what is the true cost of owning these things in terms of debt? Life rations? Will a cute four-bedroom suburban house with its thirty-year mortgage really take thirty years to pay off?

According to a study by Urban Institute, 35 percent of Americans are Past Due on some type of debt. More than one of three people not only owe money, but they are delinquent on what they owe. In fact, according to a survey conducted by CreditCards dot com, more than 18 percent of those indebted expect to never pay it off. Nope, they will carry it till death takes them underground.

Behind this American insanity lies the consumer scam—the notion that consumption is unabashedly unconditional with zero correlation to production. People live and work to consume today and think nothing of tomorrow.

In 2008, millions of homes sunk into foreclosure because buyers didn't give two-shits about buying a house they couldn't afford with money they didn't earn. Similarly, I see the consumer scam and its emotionally inflamed buyers commiserating on exotic car forums. Always worth a snicker, these folks max themselves financially by purchasing an expensive sports car and yet cannot afford routine maintenance, insurance, and gas. Uh, you didn't know a Lamborghini clutch is $12,000? Duh. But hey, at least everyone in traffic is fooled.

Oh, and the next time you feel inadequate driving your ten-year-old rust bucket while the sleek new Mustang speeds by, don't. Chances are that driver isn't as styling (or smart) as you think. Nearly 85 percent of all cars on the road are financed. Yup, that Audi has a ridiculous car payment.

Not only that, but the average loan now extends over sixty-five months—more than five years! Translation? People buy more car than they can afford. So the next time you're stuck in traffic surrounded by new cars, remember those numbers: 85 percent and 65 months. These aren't life's victors but victims of the consumer scam.

The scripted playbook is written in the language of consumerism and bound by alienating production. Grab a dollar and give it a stare. The difference between a lifetime of wage slavery or freedom is entangled in that little paper hyperreality and its relationship to its kissing cousin, consumption. The consumer scam is Why the freeway is jammed with cars at 7 AM on a Monday morning. It is Why people have no options. And it is Why people are enslaved until death—at least until you stop being a consumer first, and a producer last.

The consumer scam's greatest impact is on the Sidewalk within the scripted O.S. The distorted relationship between consumption and production is why some people, even the seemingly affluent, are one misstep from insolvency. Kanye West allegedly is $53 million in debt and is tweeting Mark Zuckerberg for handouts. Rapper 50 Cent filed for bankruptcy.

How are these rich celebrities going broke? The consumer scam, where consumption annihilates production. Big paychecks and huge business profits are no match for the consummate consumer; it wants every dime earned and, compliments of credit, more than every dime.

Think of it this way. Debt, spending more than you earn, is consumption exceeding production. It isn't money owed; it's a production deficit.

Debt = Production - Consumption

If you have a negative net worth of 500,000 dollars, you have effectively consumed 500,000 dollars more value than produced. In lieu of the debt, you promise the debtor future production. This is why strapping yourself with six figures in college loans is dangerous. Debt mandates the necessity of future work—even if you cannot find work.

For example, Antoine Walker is an N.B.A basketball player who earned over 110 million during his ten-year career. And yet, even at that staggering production level, he couldn't outrun consumption. According to a story at Yahoo Finance, Antoine spent his millions on luxury estates for family members, exotic cars (Bentleys, Maybachs, B.M.W's), luxury gifts and vacations for his entourage, and even the best designer wardrobe money could buy.

Geez, his consumption was so feckless he wouldn't wear the same designer suit twice. When the real-estate crash hit his investments, the party ended. With no safety net, Walker filed for bankruptcy in 2010. Over 110 million pissed away on *stuff*—the final tally was a negative 8 million in excess consumption.

Sorry to say, but Mr. Walker earned like the 1 percent but spent like the 99 percent. He successfully produced in a skilled entertainment endeavor with fierce demand and yet had an insatiable thirst for consumption, one that consumed production itself. In the end, it cost him his N.B.A championship ring and, more importantly, his ability to live forever unscripted.

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised upward and an object held in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Lottery winners and athletes who overspend and go broke is symptomatic to the underlying problem which is a scripted mindset anchored by Consumption.

The consumer scam bases its power on fluid spending. Ever notice that regardless of income, it's always barely enough to live? Earn an extra $500 next month, and it's blown: a new gadget, a few extra drinks, or whatever else fancies your soul. Spending what you earn, balancing the middle ground between producing and consuming (while saving nothing), is 99 percent thinking. A severe production imbalance is 1 percent thinking.

And then there are Sidewalkers who don't acknowledge production at all. For them, consumption and production is not balanced because production is hidden to them like it was in their childhood. Now as adults, these freeloaders produce nothing other than votes for power-hungry politicians. In their warped delusions, someone else should produce (work), covering their basic needs—food, shelter, drugs, cell phones, Internet, and health care—often arguing it's their "right" to such production, never once thinking a producer has to have their production confiscated (stolen) to enforce such "rights."

Which reminds me...a lot of people nowadays throw around the phrase “income inequality” as their pet political grievance, but know what I never hear about? “Production inequality,” “work inequality,” and “value inequality.” Only in the American republic do we see hordes of voting-ready consumption warriors demanding unrequited access to consumption with zero production. What do these Trigglypuffing mouth-breathers give to the tax base? To the economy, society or jobs? Oh yeah—nothing, but a Twitterized delusion of self-importance.

Bottom line, by merely existing and breathing, we incur basic consumption needs. Rejecting this truth is rejecting adulthood. All adults must fight the war between production and consumption.

Adults living as children aren't interested in this responsibility. They want their Red Ryder B.B gun and they want it free, preferably wrapped with a cute little bow. Consumerism has no balanced middle; you're either a consumer or a producer. Or worse, you deny the paradigm altogether.

Polarizer: Producerism

What consequences has the consumer scam and debt had on your life? Can you quit your job and pursue a dream? Has the daily grind negatively affected your health? Anytime you hear a “riches-torags” story like Antoine Walker, examine it from the consumer/producer dichotomy. Pay attention to how the consumption teeter can permanently disintegrate the production totter.

If I examined my life's freedoms, I owe it to one truth: I've rejected consumerism and hit the entrepreneurial G-spot by honoring production through producerism. Production steamrolls consumption. Disproportion over balance.

And it's why I am debt-free. It's why I own my house free and clear. And it's why I own the most important thing of all: my time. I also enjoy substantial life luxuries because of producerism: owning any exotic car I want, dining at nice restaurants, getting good Cirque tickets, and flying first class. And yet my life is far from the scarcity suck-fest peddled in Money magazine.

Producerism respects the interlinked relationship between consumption and production. If you want to live well, produce well. The more production value you thrust into society, the bigger your house, the faster your car, and the juicier your steak. In other words, stop looking to take and start looking to give.

Like many unscripted beliefs, producer reorientation requires a polarized shift. First, expect your entrepreneurial efforts to produce far beyond your consumption. In later chapters, I will show you how.

Second, a consumer-to-producer shift means behaving like one. That means:

- You lead the herd, not follow it.

- ✓ You pave new paths, not harden the already well-worn ones.

- ✓ You create and sell franchises, not buy them.

- ✓ You receive rents or royalties, not pay them.

- ✓ You lend, not borrow.

- ✓ You create and sell a brand; you're not buying the brand.

- ✓ You hire employees, not seek to be hired as one.

- ✓ You sell products on late-night infomercials; you're not buying them.

- You sell on Black Friday, not buying on Black Friday.

As a producer, everything turns upside down. Producers don't spend money on the latest hot trend; they're inflaming and profiting from the latest hot trend.

And finally, as a member of team producer, constantly put yourself in the shoes of a business owner. Watching an infomercial? Think about the process from idea to prototype to on the air. Did the commercial move you to buy? Did it irritate you?

If you owned that product, what would you have done differently? The next time you buy something, pay attention to why you bought it. Was it the marketing copy creating an element of scarcity? The photos? The great reviews? Your interaction with customer service?

Was the product delivered on a trial basis, showing value first, then you bought?

Producerism is being a lifelong student of production. Tune your R.A.S to see what everyone else cannot. And soon you will be doing what everyone else cannot.

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised upward and outward, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Effective producerism rarely evolves from trading your time for money, but instead manifests itself from investing your time into a scalable business system.

Chapter 21 Belief #4 The Money Scam: I Can Get Rich by Wanting to Get Rich

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The figure represents a person jumping or leaping in a celebratory manner, suggesting a sense of victory, achievement, or excitement.

The Dichotomy: Money (99%) versus Value (1%)

Being broke sucks. I know, because I was for most of my early twenties. While my friends drove new cars and dressed new threads, I rolled in an old Buick Skylark while adorned in secondhand-thrift-shop fashion. Yeah, let's just say my dating life at the time was about as directionless as a politician's moral compass.

Anyhow, behind my lack of money definitely wasn't a lack of effort. I was motivated. Driven. And obsessed.

Unfortunately, I was obsessed about the wrong thing—and that thing was money. For me, it was everything. It symbolized freedom.

Job liberation. Validation, self-worth, and social acceptance. And yet, despite my obsession, I had no clue what money represented, how it moved, why it existed, and how to get it.

Underneath my perpetual brokenness, the money scam was working—a 99 percent thought line, where money is viewed as an elusive and mysterious concept, one that must be hunted, manipulated, cajoled, legislated, or pried away from someone else. Money's pursuit is akin to a pig riding the proverbial donkey chasing a carrot on a stick—money is the carrot; the script is the pig; the ass is you.

Whenever the money scam prevails, one becomes what I call a money-chaser. Money-chasers jump from one business idea to another, one job to another, one opportunity to another. Money-chasers view money tangibly like a sofa or a car, something that can be stalked like a tyrant aspiring for the emperor's throne.

As such, money-chasers are the “show-me-the-money” types who creep markets looking for quick cash, of course effortlessly and risk-free. These entrepreneurs step to the plate with one idea, strike out, and then quit. These couch-dreamers find hope in a late-night make-money infomercials featuring smiling millionaires camped on the beach with an open laptop because, after all, that's where all millionaires go once they hit it big. Others are found on “make-money-online” forums, asking generalities like:

- What's a good business to start with fifteen dollars?

- How much money can I make selling black staplers on Amazon?

- How do I make $1 million dollars in the next six months?

- Can I make money trading the Forex market?

- What's an easy product to import from China?

Inside these questions stinks the money scam. The lost entrepreneur sees money as prey, and they are the hunter. The money-chaser rummages behind every nook and cranny, searching for sunken treasure undiscovered by their 10,000 predecessors who just dived the same dive.

Remember, money is only a hyperreality. Just because you can see, touch, and smell it doesn't mean it's tangible, other than its paper form. The truth is, most of the world's money is represented intangibly: in pixelated numbers on a monitor, a number on a paper check or a bill, or a number represented by a ledger entry at a bank. If you have $5 million deposited at Bank of America, you cannot physically walk into the branch and withdraw it, at least not without substantial notice. In every six-or seven-figure transaction I've done, from selling houses to businesses, I never touched the money. A number simply moved from one party to another based on a mutually negotiated exchange.

So, before we remove the teeth from the money scam, here's a question: At its fundamental core, what is money to you? Something that buys stuff? A tool for power? A payment for work performed? While all of these things are uses of money, they don't define money itself.

Removing our cognitive hang-ups, what does money really represent?

If you've said production, you're wrong.

A medium to facilitate barter?

Nope, but getting closer.

Value?

Wrong again, but now you're getting hot.

Try this.

Assume you have something I want. Let's say it's an eighteenth-century gold statue, and I pay you 50,000 dollars for it. In this exchange, we mutually agree and reach equilibrium: I value your statue at 50,000 dollars and you value losing it at 50,000 dollars. The transaction mediator in this exchange is money. We agreed. No one was held at gunpoint and forced into the transaction. Money is not hunted, cajoled, or manipulated in the deal; it merely mediates and bridges the deal once equilibrium is reached.

Afterward and thanks to the money bridge, I get your statue and you get 50 thousand dollars; this stores the transaction value Now so you can exchange it for something Later. Let's say a week later you buy a new Cadillac for 50 thousand dollars. In essence, money bridged and stored our perceived value assessments between two vastly different items: I get a statue; you get a Cadillac or the “option” to buy a Cadillac.

However, here is where things get muddied.

Let's say that during our sales negotiations, you represented the sculpture to be pure gold. After paying $50,000, I later discovered the sculpture is not gold but bronze covered in cheap electroplate. I feel scammed.

Why? Because you misrepresented value. Perceived value did not translate into actual value.

In response to this misrepresentation, I approach you (the seller) and ask for a 49,000 dollar refund, since my *new* perceived value of the statue is only 1,000 dollars. You laugh and tell me to pound sand. I get in your grill and threaten you. You punch me in the noggin.

I drop to the floor and the statue shatters to the ground in a hundred shards. As I pick up the pieces, frazzled by your unforeseen M.M.A skills, I notice a tiny black satchel among the debris—apparently molded within the statue was a satchel hidden for centuries. I open it and find what appears to be a huge crystal rock.

Unfazed, I pocket the rock and leave bloody angry while cursing you a crook. ebook3000 dot com Next week, I have the crystal rock examined by a geologist. He tells me that it's a diamond and appraises it for $4 million. I call you and sneer a self-satisfied thank you. The punk gets punked.

Despite these swings in actual value, nothing changed with respect to the transaction because money is just a transaction mediator where agreed perceived value is stored.

Unfortunately, as demonstrated in our story, perceived value has a caveat: actual value and its delivery sometimes don't match. And that's an important distinction. Money's velocity is only predicated on perceived value, not actual value.

When you sold me your gold statue, we agreed to 50,000 dollars in perceived value. However, actual value fluctuated from 1,000 dollars to 4 million dollars.

If you're fired from a job which pays 50 thousand dollars per year, your employer has decided that your actual value is not matching the perceived value, your salary. While most world transactions amount to a fair exchange where perceived and actual value closely match, sometimes they do not.

So, imagine the lunacy of hunting something without knowing anything about your prey. It's like hunting stags by stapling Bambi photos to the trees. Most people are broke and remain broke because the money scam has made them perpetual chasers of something that cannot be chased—it can only be attracted by offering perceived value.

One of my favorite metaphors highlighting this disassociation is likened to a slippery cat scampering loose in the neighborhood. Money-chasers stalk the cat, hoping someday to catch it—around the bushes, up the tree, and in between the parked cars. That someday never comes.

Meanwhile, the unscripted know better. They ignore the cat and instead offer it something attractive. A cracked can of tuna later, and bam, that cat slinks in and leaps to your lap.

The money-chasing ideal is unfortunately (and disgustingly) common in the entrepreneurial subculture. Ask many aspiring entrepreneurs why they pursue entrepreneurship and you'll likely hear something about money, passive income, or world travel. I witness this several times per day.

At the end of my forum registration process, I ask: “Why are you joining our community?” The question comes with a warning: answers are evaluated, and fudged registrations are deleted. Despite the clear instructions, the most popular answer is simply “money.” Other popular answers are “get rich or die trying,” “want to own a Lambo!” “travel,” and other inconsequential cringe-worthy shit. These responses expose money-chasing “dreampreneurs”—a class of wannabe entrepreneurs who somehow mistook starting a business with a ride on the Ferris wheel with a stick of cotton in one hand and a Slurpee in the other.

Lost in the money hunt is money's true nature. And it's something few talk about. Money is stored perceived value intangibly accounted, value that you have created, acquired, and communicated.

In effect, your net worth scoreboards how much perceived value you've created, communicated, and sold beyond your consumption of it. Billionaires (or their heirs) have been privy to a massive value operation. And the actual paper? That's our universal agreement to transform the intangible number into the tangible. Throw in some fancy paper, ink, and dead presidents, and voilà, money!

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised upward, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Money doesn't have a brain but its possessors do. Therefore money responds indirectly to a value stimulus, but it also can hold biases and prejudices.

Polarizer: The Value-Voucher Principle

Stop hunting money and start hunting value.

Money is not prey.

Instead, erase “money” from your vocabulary. Vow to never utter the word again. As a producer, start thinking of “money” as value-vouchers—a store of perceived value produced, communicated, and delivered to the world.

If your goal is ten million dollars, the new goal is ten million value-vouchers. And acquiring those ten million value-vouchers requires facing money's true nature. Be valuable. Wanted. Demanded.

Sadly, most live life polarized to money and wonder why they can't make any. The money scam's insanity is like focusing on a toaster to make toast—while ignoring the paramountcy of bread.

Picture it this way. Put two magnets together and how do they react? Either they attract or repel. The money scam and its money-chasers are polarized, where marketplace interactions are magnetically incongruent, creating repellent action.

Ahh, the irony. Money's hot pursuit actually repels money. However, flip the magnet and forget about money and focus on value—and the magnets attract.

So how can you polarize the money scam and attract value-vouchers? First, understand how value-vouchers move. To Honorably attract value-vouchers, money bridges must be constructed with these four building blocks:

1. Value (product/service creation)

2. Perceived value communicated to another party (marketing and messaging)

3. A mutual agreement, an equilibrium with that party (closing)

4. Actual value delivered (execution)

Notice that word “honorably”?

I hope so, because unscripted entrepreneurs aren't just focused on perceived value; we're focused on delivering actual value. Yes, there is a difference, and we'll get into that next. For now, possessing and executing on these four items is what attracts value-vouchers as well as a good night's sleep.

Expecting money while spitting on value creation is like expecting jobs while spitting on business owners. Without value, you're sailing without a mast.

So, back to my forum and its registration process.

I recently ran an S.Q.L query on the registration question, “Why are you joining?” Guess how many registrants mention “value”? Solving problems? Helping others? About fourteen of every thousand—and that's with many users who are students of my first book. Coincidentally, that's about 1 percent. The other 99 percent? They mention money or some other selfish motive.

Getting rich. Fast cars and fast living. Freedom, travel, and other classic dreampreneur shit. Indeed, let the money scam be your axe in the money hunt and you won't get rich, but you will die trying.

Chapter 22 Belief #5 The Poverty Scam: “I'm Poor Because You're Rich”

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding a small object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet to suggest upward movement or jumping. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or achievement.

The Dichotomy: {Selfish} (99%) versus {Selfless} (1%)

I'm in Las Vegas at the Bacchanal Buffet in Caesars Palace, probably the best buffet in the world. Next to me is a man who must be tipping the scales at 400 bills. As I watch him waddle back and forth to the buffet, double-plated for the umpteenth time, I curse the man in my head: because this selfish ass can't stop stuffing his face, someone else on the planet is starving.

So...

What do you think of my heartless assertion?

Hopefully, you don't agree and think it's ridiculous. Hopefully, you know that obesity and overeating are not subject to binarism—a gluttonous human who can't put down the crab legs does not create one that is starved. To think otherwise is an absurdity that directly relates to our next belief scam, the poverty scam.

The poverty scam is the zero-sum belief that you are broke because someone else is rich. And of course, if you're rich, you're selfish. These associations are about as ridiculous as our big buffet man having a direct correlation to a child starving in Africa. Behind the poverty scam is a deviant belief that evolves from the money scam: when perceived value and actual value do not match, the villain narrative is born.

The Poverty Scam's Villain Narrative

As in our gold-statue transaction, whenever actual and perceived value do not match, the poverty scam sprouts wings. And left behind is the villain narrative.

The villain narrative is the belief that rich people (or corporations) are, by default, selfish, greedy, or untrustworthy. Inherent in the villain narrative is also the presumption that those who acquired wealth did so through subterfuge or fraud. Hence, you are poor because everything you buy is some type of theft.

With the villain narrative, money's relationship to value is erased and its mutualism stolen. Money no longer is a consensual agreement but a forced coercion. Gee, does that sound like taxation?

Or being forced to buy health insurance? Listen to our intellectually gifted protesters over at Occupy Wall Street and you'll hear some variant of the villain narrative.

As demonstrated earlier, value-vouchers are moved by creating perceived value, not actual value. And unfortunately, the scammers know it. Behind every fraud, bad product, and dissatisfied customer, is an effective communication of perceived value that does not translate into actual value. When a diet pill promises six-pack abs in six weeks and it doesn't deliver, perceived value is sold, not actual value. You see, capitalist villains aren't dealing in actual value but perceived value because they know perceived value makes money.

For example, in the early twentieth century, Victor Lustig claimed to possess “money printing machines,” which could create perfect copies of hundred-dollar bills every six hours. Despite the machine's slow output, Lustig's boxes commanded a tall price for the era, sometimes over $30,000. Herein lies the essence of perceived value and how all scams work. Lustig's boxes did indeed output hundred-dollar bills, but only two of them, and neither were copies, but merely placed there by Lustig to perpetuate the value illusion.

After dispensing two real bills, blank paper came out. By the time the victim figured it out, Lustig was long gone, and 30,000 dollars richer. The perceived value equilibrium was 30,000 dollars—the actual value was 200 dollars—and another villain was born.

Likewise, in the late twentieth century, it was common for unscrupulous stockbrokers to set up “boiler rooms” and sell worthless stock to unsuspecting investors. Many of these stockbrokers got rich because they could splendidly sell perceived value. These talented salespeople could sell horseshit to farmers, and many became rich, famous, even worshipped—and unfortunately, indicted.

Anyhow, I bring this up because the same phenomenon happens today, except it's not worthless stocks peddled, but worthless products sold via Internet marketing.

Bro-Marketing is a term I coined, which sums up the Internet marketing racket. Instead of boilerroom operations (Bro) selling worthless stocks, we now have boiler rooms (or basements) selling worthless P.D.F's, marketing secrets, and whatever else can be packaged for $997 with a landing page, fake testimonials, and a countdown timer. Bro-marketing is huge—and it has corrupted entrepreneurship.

Many *entrepreneurs* are morally and ethically bribing their souls, persuading themselves that it's okay to sell worthless-shit products just because they make money. Using the usual tools of the trade—persuasive copy, click-bait headlines, trip wires, fake reviews, sales funnels, and the usual boiler-room mishmash—they believe their own apostasy, ignoring zero reorders, bad reviews, and terribly high refunds and chargebacks. You see, whenever you blow 2 thousand dollars for some generalized marketing advice you could find in a free white paper or ten-dollar book, you've been duped by a Bro-marketer selling perceived value.

In effect, scam artists, Bro-marketers, and other perceived-value hustlers still live by the money scam. And since they're focused on hunting money, they're willing to do Anything for it—including deception, cheating, or worse, fraud. As a result, money-chasers graduate to value-cheaters who only play in perceived value's sandbox.

Some are skilled at selling perceived value and, hence, Eskimos buy ice. Vegans buy steaks. And subsequently, the villain narrative wins another soldier leaving the scripted army thinking they're poor because these assholes get rich.

Here's another example that's very personal to me: In the summer of 2014, my forum was hitting record traffic, revenues and users. You'd think I was happy, right? Wrong. My forum was growing, but it was attracting the wrong entrepreneur: Bro-marketing value-cheaters who didn't care about actual value, only about perceived value. As these folks infiltrated my forum, the daily discussion morphed into stupid launch schemes, slick copywriting strategy, ethically challenged marketing, and marginally deceptive advertising. Product discussions that delivered actual value? Superior, selfless customer service? Meh, this didn't interest them.

In August of that same year, I exiled these individuals from my forum, prompting an exodus of like-minded thinkers. While my traffic suffered, my integrity didn't. For the unscripted, perceived value and actual value match.

And yes, marketing and copywriting are absolutely critical in the value chain. However, for capitalist villains, slick marketing steals wealth through value illusions, much like Mr. Lustig did decades ago.

The Villain Narrative: Hollywood, Politics, and Corporations

Ever notice the evil rich person is Hollywood's favorite archetype? The wealthy tycoon slots the villain role perfectly. Ballyhooed as some megalomaniac hell-bent on pillaging the common folk, this frequent personification happens as often as an Adam Sandler appearance in a pea-brained comedy no one watches.

In James Bond's Diamonds Are Forever, the megalomaniac wants to take over the world. In Spiderman, the eccentric millionaire skirmishes around town as the Green Goblin, causing chaos and destruction. In It's a Wonderful Life, warped, frustrated old man Potter wants to turn Bedford Falls into a mini Las Vegas. Other fictions portray successful businessmen willing to commit theft, fraud, and murder, all in exchange for profit and power. Movies and television are rife with corporate and capitalist villainy.

The Virginia-based Media Research Center documented this fact when they released a report detailing the results of researchers watching a whopping 863 sitcoms, dramas, and television movies broadcast over prime-time networks (ABC/N.B.C/CBS/FOX). The researchers' findings? “Businesspeople tend to be portrayed as venal and unscrupulous,” explains Tim Lamer, coauthor of Businessmen Behaving Badly. “They engage in criminal behavior. As a group, corporate types commit more murders on T.V than any other occupational category—even career criminals.”

Aliens, Resident Evil, Avatar, and Network are all recent examples of seedy corporations or their henchmen doing evil deeds. In an article for Politix, movie critic Nell Minow agrees with the corporate villainization and those who run them. She explains, “The corporate bad guy in stories has been around as long as the corporation. One of the best-known characters in literature is Charles Dickens' Ebenezer Scrooge, a stingy moneylender without any vestige of kindness or compassion.” And yet, has it ever occurred to anyone that maybe the real persona behind an entrepreneur is not crusty Mr. Potter, but perhaps George Bailey?

The villain narrative, or class warfare, is also prevalent in politics and often determines who gets elected. Campaign demagogues know a winning candidate is the politician who successfully paints the villain narrative against his opponent, while minimizing it for himself. Democrats successfully used the villain narrative against Mitt Romney, portraying him as a ravenous capitalist working for the evil private-equity company Bain Capital. Comments from his wife about owning a horse and its expenditures sealed his defeat.

Political class warfare is a scripted tool for obedience. According to OpenSecrets dot org, the average net worth of a congressman, Democrat or Republican, is about 10 million dollars. Remove the Senate Democrats from the calculation and the average falls to about 7 million dollars. If you believe that rich people are evil and you're broke because of them, look no further than Washington, D.C. The political game being played is just another scripted trick: Engorge the peasantry that money is evil and those who have it, have acquired it nefariously. (But never mind us wholesome folks over here on Capitol Hill because we're working for you.) Don't be a chump; politicians and their media henchman are not your friends. Think they are and whip out the Wahl; you're about to be sheared.

Another villain-narrative confirmation comes from publicly traded companies operating as capitalist villains. Personally, I have no love for Monsanto, Comcast, McDonald's, and the other corporate monoliths who seemingly don't care about their customers. You see, once a corporation goes public, something dramatic eventually happens—it shifts priorities and causes the value equation to flip to a value-cheating villain.

Customers are no longer the corporation's number-one stakeholder, it shifts to stockholders. And what do stockholders want? Rising share prices by way of profit.

Whoa, look at that—suddenly value creation and happy customers become casualties to the primary motive: money. That frothy, feel-good corporate mission statement on the wall? It morphs to bullshit window-dressing where it now says, “Our organizational mission is to appease shareholders, squeezing every dollar out of our customers so we can meet or beat Wall Street's consensus earning estimates.”

This is the Wall Street reality, which translates into a well-deserved reputation of corporate greed. Tie in the politicians and the lobbyists, and it becomes crony capitalism. Furthering the perception, anytime a money-chaser cheats value and is exposed for fraud or poor business practices (people like Madoff, Rothstein, Pearlman, or corporate leadership like Koslowski, Ebbers, Lay), it makes headlines, ruffling feathers and tarring perceptions. Defrauded investors, cheated customers, and unsavory business practices herd eyeballs; entrepreneurs living with integrity do not.

While I don't deny corporate misdeeds and stakeholder abandonment, they aren't the prevailing majority for small business. For every negative story grabbing headlines and spotlighting the villain narrative, there's a buried bag of positive stories you'll never read about.

The masses confirm the villain narrative every time a business cheats value. This Green Tea Fat Burner doesn't work! This expensive real-estate seminar is just a big upsell into a more expensive seminar!

That politician promised me free health care! Sorry, you're poor because you keep buying shit you shouldn't buy—including fantasies that don't exist.

In aggregate, these overt messages obscure the money hyperreality and darken its shadow to some murky apparition ready to smother its victims into poverty. Value, erased. Solutions, solved but forgotten. The end result is the poverty scam: “Income inequality! I'm poor because that dude's rich! Give me my poster board so I can protest!” Find yourself believing such dualistic nonsense ratified by the villain narrative and, sorry, enjoy your tent in Zuccotti Park while you “Feel the Bern.”

The real truth eviscerated underneath the political campaign slogans, the subliminal plot narratives, and the bureaucratic henchmen seeking to destroy jobs, lives, and rain forests isn't so vile. Unfortunately, that truth doesn't sell movie tickets or cause protesters to take to the streets with homemade posters shouting about C.E.O pay.

That truth is this: Everything great in society has happened because money moved massively due to massive value creation and delivery—and yes, this created rich people. Without wealth, you'd be transported back to the dark ages, where you'd shit in an outhouse, burn candles for light, and use pigeons to send letters to your nana in Akron.

Money doesn't escape your wallet because there's a gun to your head (unless it's the gun of the government); you buy because you perceive value, enough of it that it compels you to say, "Yes, here's my cash; give me what you have."

Polarizer: The Fiduciary Principle

Imagine a world where you needed to crap in a bucket, haul it outside to the woods, and dump it in ebook3000 dot com a hole you had to dig the week earlier. Imagine a world where that same bucket is used later to catch rainwater so you have *clean* drinking water.

Wherever you are, right now, take a look around you.

I'm sitting at Starbucks. The aroma of ground coffee fills the air, while a holiday song spirits the background. Outside, the temperature hovers in the fifties, which by Arizona standards, might as well be absolute zero. Inside, as I type away at my six-year-old laptop while drinking my mocha latte, it's a balmy seventy-five.

My iPhone, which rests nearby, shows it's 3 43 PM, which means I have seventeen minutes left to finish this chapter before driving to the gym. Instead, I ignore my self-imposed deadline and pause from my writing.

As I look around me in total comfort and convenience, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and humility, not just to God, the universe, or whoever else is running the show, but to rich people.

Gasp! What?

A careful reflection yields a humbling truth: Every single thing in your life was once invented and created by someone, or by someone executing on a corporate initiative. Yes, every comfort, convenience, and functionality you now enjoy was once someone's idea. Someone's work, dream, or passion. And now you benefit from that output. Just examine my snapshoted Starbucks moment, a mere blip in time:

My old laptop, which still surprisingly works...Bill Gates and a boatload of millionaires at Microsoft

My writing platform, Scrivener...Keith Burkholder

■ My research at Google...Sergey Brin, Larry Page, and another crew of rich people

■ My iPhone, which keeps me organized and scheduled... Steve Jobs and a slew of other rich people

My Facebook newsfeed...Mark Zuckerberg and a lot of other rich people

■ My yummy coffee and comfortable writing respite...Howard Schultz and the original Starbucks founders, Jerry Baldwin, Zev Siegl, and Gordon Bowker

The electricity powering the coffee grinders, the lights, and the heat providing comfort...Thomas Edison, George Westinghouse, Nikola Tesla (although he died poor)

■ My progressive glasses allowing me to see the great things surrounding me...Benjamin Franklin, followed by Owen Aves and Carl Zeiss

☑ My durable, comfortable jeans...Levi Strauss

My upcoming workout at Lifetime Fitness...Braham Akradi

■ My fifteen-minute drive to my upcoming workout, which would have taken two hours by foot and twenty minutes by bike...George Selden (patent), the Ford family for making it mainstream

■ My ears, inspired by the holiday music orchestrating in the background...Josh Groban

Everywhere I go, I'm thankful these artists, inventors, and entrepreneurs have enriched my life with ease, comfort, security, personal growth, and even entertainment. Every one of them deserves to be rich.

So the next time you're on the throne with diarrhea and you can press a lever having that miserable stink miraculously disappear into nowhereville, be happy someone, somewhere, is rich because of that convenience. The next time you order pizza and your pizza's cardboard box isn't sagging into the cheese because of that cute little plastic tripod, be happy that Carmela Vitale invented the Pizza Saver, and be happy that Carmela is rich. The fact is, these people and their corporations have become fiduciaries to society's advancement—creating things making our lives easier and more enjoyable. And therein lies our polarizing principle that reverses the poverty scam: the fiduciary principle—a resolution that as unscripted entrepreneurs we will serve selflessly to serve the selfish.

A thorny challenge indeed. As humans, we are born selfish, and such selfishness is human nature. However, going against our human nature explains why so few succeed at providing value: we're too preoccupied with what We want; we can't see what Others want.

For example, there's an old folktale demonstrating just how selfishness blinds us to opportunity. It

There once lived an old man who had a wish. He prayed to God that before he died he would get the chance to see the difference between heaven and hell. One night an angel appeared before the old man's bed and granted his wish. The angel blindfolded the man and spoke: "First you shall see hell."

The old man felt a momentary weightlessness and then the angel removed the blindfold. The old man found himself standing in a boundless dining hall filled with large, rounded tables, ornate with gold. Each table was piled high with the most delicious of foods: fruits, vegetables, breads, cheeses, meats, desserts—everything you can imagine was there and exquisitely prepared. The man salivated at the sight as the intoxicating aromas filled his nose.

However, the old man noticed everyone seated at the dining tables was sickly with gaunt, morose faces seared with frustration. Each diner held a long spoon. These spoons must have been over three feet long. While the people cursed to hell could reach with their spoons any delectable food they wanted, they could not get the food into their mouths. The hell-dwellers were in a constant state of torment, starved and desperate to taste what was just inches away. Sickened, the old man cried, "Please stop—take me to heaven!" And so the man was blindfolded again. "Now you will see heaven," the angel said. After a familiar weightlessness, the blindfold was removed. The old man was confused. It was like he never left. He was once again in a great dining hall with the same round tables piled high with the same culinary lavishness. And just like hell, he saw these people also had long spoons preventing them from feeding themselves. However, as the old man looked closer, he noticed that the people in this dining hall were plumply vivacious and smiling; laughter and cheer filled the air. As he panned through the hall and processed the joyous sounds, the difference between heaven and hell finally struck him: The people in heaven were using those long spoons to feed each other.

Whenever our selfish blockheadedness is cast aside (even temporarily) and we focus on the selfishness of others, we become fiduciaries, and suddenly the value of long spoons is evident.

As a fiduciary, resolve to be a societal asset, advancing its ease and enjoyment. Resolve to be treated how you want to be treated. Put customers as kings in the stakeholder chain, being trustworthy and honorable to a standard that squashes the villain narrative. A fiduciary mindset is selfless, where an external exploration of needs and problems becomes clear.

The real truth is hit when the poverty scam is polarized (and the money scam): Great value precedes great wealth. If you want to make millions, impact millions. Become a worthwhile fiduciary to your fellow man and you will stop being worthless. Or we can suffer through another millennial idiot protesting corporatism, whereas afterward, he snapped an Instagram selfie wearing Nikes, hopped into the Prius his parents bought him, drove to Starbucks and bought a latte, and logged into his Facebook from his iPhone on a Comcast 5 megabytes Internet connection, all while being smugly ignorant that everything in this entitled twit's life was delivered by capitalism.

How we manage our selfishness determines if we operate our business within the gray area of value-cheating or the sunny skies of value-providing.

Your relationship with money is defined by one of the three monetary identities: 1) money-chasing, 2) value-cheating, or 3) value-vouchering. Which is it?

Chapter 23 Belief #6 The Luck Scam: You Don't Play; You Don't Win

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding a small flag in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet suggesting upward motion or jumping. The image conveys a sense of victory, success, and achievement.

The Dichotomy: Luck (99%) versus Probability (1%)

Luck. Behind the superstitious creed for losers, do-nothings, and dreamers is the luck scam—the belief that life's outcomes, both positive and negative, are primarily dependent on fluke randomness. If not randomness, a bipolar fairy dosed on Prozac oversees the luck of the universe, a mystic arbiter who at a moment's whim decides who receives fortune and who receives coal.

While I don't pay attention to my haters, every so often I stumble across their drivel. Cast from the Sidewalk, the common theme in their hallucinogenic opinions is luck. M.J got lucky! And you know what? They are right.

In fact, I've been experiencing this strange "luck" phenomenon for over twenty years.

For instance, I was lucky when I chose to study when in college as opposed to getting trashed every weekend like my peers. I was lucky when I chose not to get a corporate job after college and instead focused on entrepreneurship. I was lucky when I chose to start, and then fail, in the supplement business, the jewelry business, and the mortgage business. I was lucky when I chose to start, and then fail, in four network marketing schemes. I was lucky when I chose to stick to my entrepreneurial dreams despite three more business failures thereafter.

I was lucky when I chose to swallow my ego and suffer jobs more appropriate for a high school dropout: delivering pizza, flowers, and newspapers, all while my buddies had cushy corporate jobs. I was lucky when I chose to work as a limousine chauffeur because, just maybe, I'd like to own a limousine someday. I was lucky when I chose to read books every day about emerging Internet technologies while camped out at airports, weddings, and drinking holes.

I was lucky when I chose to do something after I spotted a need in the limousine business. I was lucky when I chose to work on that business every day instead of partying or getting lost in Seinfeld reruns. I was lucky when I chose to win a negotiation for a great domain U.R.L back when premium domains were being sold for six and seven figures. I got lucky when I chose to sell my company, in 2001, to a Silicon Valley start-up. I got lucky when I chose to repurchase my company at a fire-sale valuation during the dot-com implosion. reasoning that the financials outweighed the irrational fear smothering the markets. I got lucky when I chose to not only survive the dot-com crash but to thrive. I got lucky when I chose to explode profits while minimizing expenses and employee overhead, enjoying sixty-plus months of consecutive profitability, mostly seven figures per annum. I got lucky when I chose to save most of my earnings into safe, inflation-beating assets instead of investing it into risky assets touted by the mainstream.

I was lucky when I chose to sell real estate right before the real-estate market crashed, despite everyone—including the National Association of Realtors—saying, “Now is the time to buy.” I got lucky when I chose to sell my company (again), in 2007, to a private-equity company for a multimillion-dollar valuation. I got lucky when I chose to create a forum dedicated to entrepreneurship, one enjoying nearly one million page views per month because, you know, building a huge community is as simple as popping a pill—download the software and bam: traffic, users, and engagement.

I can go on and on for another five pages about selling millions of dollars in books, investment decisions, health choices, and more. But hopefully you noticed a trend in my rant, and it wasn't a lucky hot streak: I got lucky when I chose, then acted. And then continued to act.

If you believe you're unlucky, I have no doubt—you are. Instead of seeing action interacting with immeasurable probability, you see a cosmic genie levering a luck spigot. You are continuously unlucky if you do not move probability in your favor.

In fact, luck's mysticism is another hyperreality, a shadow seen as real when statistical probability casts the shadow. The keyword in this oh-so-dismissed concept of moving probability? You must move it. You must choose, act, and repeat. Ahh, the process-principle peeks in. Again.

So, making sure we're on the same page, when I say "luck," I'm not referring to people born with a "bad hand." If you think that's you, I'm sorry; it probably isn't.

A bad hand is being born in a third-world country without education, sanitation, or clean water. A bad hand is being born in a tyrannical land where you'd be thrown in a gulag for reading unscripted. A bad hand is being born with a debilitating disease like cystic fibrosis or cerebral palsy. The sad fact is most people think they've been dealt a bad hand when they've been given one of the best hands in the world.

If you popped out of Mom in America or another industrialized republic, congratulations; you have pocket kings.

If you're reading this book, you're relatively wealthy by world standards. You probably have multiple televisions, shoes, electronic devices as well as more than one shirt for the week. If you had the means to buy this book (thank you) or steal it (thief), both reflect a great hand.

You have freedom to choose. You can see, read, and surf. And the ultimate tell: You're not starving or homeless because you can pursue self-actualization through a book. See, you're one lucky bastard, just like me.

Testing Your Luck

To diffuse the cloud that shadows luck, try this experiment. And be honest.

Call a coin flip. Winner wins a smile and pat on the back. Ready?

flip )))))))))))

It's tails.

Did you call it correctly? If so, take a moment and think about your accurate prediction. Would you now label yourself as “lucky”? Or if you called it incorrectly, do you suddenly consider yourself unlucky? Probably neither because you know the probability: coin flips are fifty-fifty chances of losing or winning.

Now let's switch gears.

What if a correct coin flip call would win $10 million? Suddenly the outcome might be considered luck simply because the attached outcome is significant. And yet the flipping odds or the mathematics never change. What changes? Your perception. In its purity, this is the essence of probability. When life's chaos diffuses into outcomes, probability becomes clouded and superstitious explanations become likely.

Let's take it further.

What if you had Ten chances to correctly call one coin flip to win the ten million? Would you keep flipping? Or stop and reason, “Eh, I'm just not lucky.” You see, moving probability is about trying.

Hitting heads on one coin flip is 50 percent, but ten flips moves the probability to 99.4 percent. That means, just because no one shared or commented on the great blog article you wrote doesn't mean the game ends. Just because your invention didn't get funding or the 2 G's blown on Facebook ads sold nothing, doesn't mean dig your grave. Keep freaking flipping!

The luck scam cripples your personal power. Motivation becomes anemic. Believe in some mythic karmic force operating against your will and it will beat you into bullshit excuses.

Seriously, why try if you're the unluckiest person alive? When that happens, probability is not moved, and yeah, you fail to be lucky.

University of Hertfordshire psychologist Richard Wiseman, author of 59 Seconds (recommended read) and the founder of the “luck school,” has studied luck for years. He says, “Unlucky people have almost no insight into the real causes of their good and bad luck, their thoughts and behavior are responsible for much of their fortune.” Explaining further, he says, “Luck—bad or good—is just what you call the results of a human being consciously interacting with chance, and some people are better at interacting with chance than others.” So how do you move the probabilities? You change your statistical universe.

Life's Gumball Machine

Here's how to change your luck.

First, picture a row of large gumball machines. Each machine has 1,000 gumballs of four assorted colors: white, orange, red, and gold, each varying in their colored consistency. A cursory examination of each gumball machine reveals mostly white and orange gumballs; while some machines have many reds and no golds, others have few reds and many golds.

These gumball machines represent a life path, and the colored gumballs represent the potential outcomes and consequences of that life path. When you choose a life path (or wander through life), you're assigned a machine and their corresponding variation of colored gumballs. To receive a gumball, a coin is deposited and the dial turned. This deposit and turn is action—the effort that spins the wheels of chance.

Once a coin is deposited, a gumball magically pops out. The gumball is a consequence, a reaction, or an echo of your effort. After doing this several times, you notice the gumballs spit out are mostly white, with a few oranges.

A white gumball simply means nothing, like an ineffectual macro-event. Your effort yielded no results, consequences, or feedback. No harm done. However, the orange gumballs represent some type of feedback, either as a learning experience, a caution, a failure, or even a warning. The orange gumballs often have cryptic messages etched on them, giving you more clues for your next spin.

Most of my life has been filled with orange and white gumballs. An orange gumball told me it was time to sell real estate in 2006, sell my company in 2007, and write another book in 2015. And then, every once in a while, a red gumball pops out and messes everything up. Red is a catastrophic consequence, such as a bankruptcy, an accident, or even getting caught driving intoxicated.

As you continue depositing effort into the machine, eventually it happens. A rare gold gumball pops out. Congratulations, that's when you hit it big: the event from the process-principle! Success, fame, or fortune! And when it happens, life's scripted couch warriors will accuse you of being giftedly lucky.

Of course, none of them witnessed your prior mis-spins and failed efforts or your skilled decoding of orange balls. Once the starry-eyed see gold, it's just “luck”!

Our life circumstances and their consequences are like this four-colored gumball machine. Right now, you have a machine. Question is, what are its contents? Is it filled with too many reds? Is your chance at hitting a gold one in 1,000? Or perhaps it's zero?

A Sidewalker's machine has no golds, many whites and oranges, and frankly, too many reds. Treading the Slowlane? Similar outcome pool: Mostly whites, some oranges, many reds, and few golds. Stock-market crash? Red. Lost your job?

Red. Laid off? Red. Health suffering because of too much work and too little pay? Red.

Within the unscripted 3 B's, our objective is to change your gumball machine's contents. A Slowlane or Sidewalk existence cranks for mostly everything but gold. If life's best-case scenario is a 2 percent pay raise, well, enjoy the celebration dinner at Red Lobster. The fact is, many people work harder than I do—the problem isn't their work ethic; it's their gumball machine. An unscripted pursuit modifies this universe: reds disappear and golds sneak in.

Polarizer: The Probability Principle

The probability-principle replaces luck by modifying behavior on five fronts. The first two behaviors acknowledge the causal effect of your gumball machine.

First, change your universe. Play games with better odds and returns without accepting more risk. Your career path, your lifestyle, and your behavioral routines determine your universe. And the best gumball machine available is the unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework.

For example, take two brothers: Brother A and Brother B both work as plumbers for the same company. After work, Brother A watches television, plays video games, and drinks cheap beer. For hobbies, he goes on casino binges, often wagering a week's salary in the process.

Brother B doesn't have a television. Instead, he's an aspiring entrepreneur who dyevs into books, learns code, and sells his inventions on Amazon. He binges on webinars, trade shows, and Shark Tank on Hulu. Now picture each brother's gumball machine.

Brother A's machine contains mostly white, few oranges and reds, but absolutely no golds. Life's best-case scenario is tripping at the casino and being awarded an insurance payout. Brother B's machine has a different constituency. It also has some reds, many oranges and whites, but most important, it has some golds. Brother B has changed his probability universe while Brother A is dialing for white gumballs by doing nothing.

The second behavioral modification is action so probabilities are altered. You must deposit coins into the machine so probabilities are moved. Effort! Action! Work! Crank, crank, crank!

Depositing three coins and giving up because your spin yielded two whites and one orange? Sorry, that's not cutting it!

Imagine if you had a great talent for something and your default gumball machine was filled with 20 percent gold balls. Throw in a growth mindset and the gold balls increase to 25 percent. However, without effort deposited into the machine, the probabilities are never tested. If you knew your machine had twenty-five gold gumballs among 1,000, would you just stop at one crank? No, keep cranking! Fifty spins beats five. Untested probability means “good luck” avoids you.

The next three behavioral modifications are suggestions from Richard Wiseman, the experimental psychologist on luck. His experiments conclude our behavior can change luck if we mimic the traits associated with lucky people while eliminating the unlucky ones. These three traits are intuition, routine, and positivity.

In Wiseman's research, intuition is critical to luck. People who trust their gut and instincts are luckier than those who ignore them. Such *feelings* can serve as alarm bells while the unlucky person ignores their intuition and instead thinks about things too rationally. For example, here are two things in the past that seemed rational, but my gut screamed, No!

Hey, my cousin made 100 thousand dollars last year flipping real estate with interest-only loans. I'm going to start doing it too! (Uhh, isn't your cousin a bus driver?)

Hey this Vegas restaurant is a great investment. The famous Joe Blow invested; so did [name-drop and name-drop]. You should too! (Seems like a lot of risk for the return?)

Another modification is routine, or specifically, breaking routine.

If life follows the beaten path, the path is beaten for a reason. A step outside your comfort zone modifies the gumball machine and alters probability. In a Telegraph.co.uk article, Wiseman explains that unlucky people tend to be creatures of routine, talking to the same types of people, traveling the same routes to work, while lucky people spread variety into their lives.

Want to be lucky? Add variation, do something different, crank the spoke of the wheel!

The final modification is positivity.

Instead of seeing the glass half-empty, see it half-full. Be thankful you've won the geographic lottery, have access to clean water, a warm bed, and a hot shower. When tough times knock, spin it positive and imagine how it could have been worse.

In 2003, I bought a new Viper. A few weeks later, it was on fire and wrapped around a palm tree with me in the car. I walked away unharmed, which amounted to a life-or-death coin flip. And yet, not once since the accident did I reason “bad luck”—after all, I destroyed a $90,000 car in minutes and jacked up my insurance rates for the next seven years.

It was good luck. I could have killed someone or myself. Bad luck? No way. You choose the interpretation of your life events and then you choose how to act on that interpretation.

You choose, like I chose. With such power, you can influence luck and modify the gumball machine you tow.

Change your universe.

Change your luck.

Change your life.

Unlike money, luck has no brain and holds no grudges or prejudices. It only reacts to the mathematical probabilities of an applied stimulus.

Image summary: This figure is a text-based graphic containing a stylized illustration. The content features a chapter heading and a specific belief titled The Frugality Scam, accompanied by the phrase Live poor; Die rich and a simple depiction of a cheering person. The image suggests a critical perspective on extreme frugality, implying that sacrificing quality of life in the present to accumulate wealth for the future is an ineffective or deceptive strategy.

Chapter 24 Belief #7 The Frugality Scam: Live Poor; Die Rich

The Dichotomy: Defense (99%) versus Offense (1%)

Imagine playing baseball for fifty years and never batting. Imagine playing defense the entire game, chasing after hits from the real players who get to the plate. And now try imagining how stupid it would be to *think* you could win the game. Unfortunately, such a paradigm exists in the scripted world. It's the frugality scam of the defense/offense dichotomy.

When it comes to money management, most people live like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings. They cower in a shabby trailer, shrilling about “my precious” and how it must be guarded with dear life. Such is the existence of someone consumed by the frugality scam—the belief that obsessive expense reduction, penny-pinching, and experiential deprivation will someday pay off in the opposite: rich life experiences, freedom, and abundance. The frugality scam is like chopping off your head and bragging you'll never suffer migraines again.

For M.O.D.E.L. Citizens who've chosen a Slowlane path, the frugality scam is the lead horse. Grab any “early retirement” or “millionaire success” book and you'll suffer through a seasoned turd-pile of defensive strategy. Spend your entire Sunday clipping coupons.

Work a second job. Buy a high-mileage used car, but surely not the car with so many miles it endangers your safety. Stop eating out, stop going to movies, stop going on expensive vacations, stop this, and stop that.

That is, you scripted fool, stop living and start dying. Live poor so you can die rich.

Other gurus trademark defensive tactics into slick platitudes like “the latte factor,” where your future millionaire empire is hitched to a six-buck Starbucks cappuccino. Heck, if these people thought picking your nose and flicking it into a snot pail would save ya two bucks, they'd recommend it while patting your shoulder with one hand as the other picks your pocket. Sorry, but saving pennies on coffee isn't going to make you rich; it just makes you another deprived fool deferring life for a flimsy promise that requires an immortality deal with the devil.

Of course, the frugality scam's problem is not frugality itself. The problem is, it is defensive, focused ebook3000 dot com on expenses, or outflows. And to have outflows, one must first have inflows. Let me explain. If you put "liquid net worth" (L.N.W) into an equation, it would be:

L.N.W = Total Income Earned - Total Expenditures

If L.N.W is positive, congratulations, you've been a saver or a net producer. Negative? Sorry, you've been naughty at the mall or not very productive.

Within the scripted O.S, wealth creation is mistakenly promised by massive, mind-numbing expense reduction. Seriously, let's call it what it is: You become an obsessive-compulsive cheap-ass, who covets every dime as if it were a weeping porcelain statuette of the Virgin Mary. Understandably, living in a 150 square foot "tiny-house" and stiffing the college kid waiting tables saves you money, but is it really a path to abundance and freedom? Or does your financial fantasy require the life expectancy of someone living in Okinawa, Japan?

The problem with a defensive strategy is expenditures are subtracted from net earned income. If you don't have a sizable income, it doesn't matter how cheap you are! You can't squeeze a dime from a nickel!

Polarizer: Controllable Unlimited Leverage (cul)

People get rich quick everyday.

Think about it. You can't be the youngest billionaire on the planet by getting rich slow. You can't become a teenage millionaire by perfectly timing an S&P 500 investment at age 12. Get rich quick might indeed exist, but don't mistake that for get rich easy. Years of disciplined, focused work channeled into the right business system can make it happen. Easy is not a part of the equation.

Behind the “get rich quick” stories you'll discover two critical items: 1) A strong offense underscored by controllable unlimited leverage (cul) and 2) a detachment from intrinsic value (trading your time for money) in lieu of a business system.

First, controllable unlimited leverage means your entrepreneurial venture has leverage through scaling probability. This means your income has either a high ceiling, or none at all. You could be making $4,000 monthly and by next year, it could grow to $40,000 monthly. The controllable unlimited leverage principle is the income/production side of the net-worth equation where your income (or assets) explodes so violently that your consumption expenses are outmatched—so outmatched that they cannot compete.

For example, if you own a software service, you can conceivably grow your user base by 1,000 percent and, subsequently, your income can grow by the same metric; if you own a shoe store on the corner of Main and Elm, you cannot because scale is capped by a geographical region (we go deeper on this later). Comparing the two strategies is like the Dallas Cowboys suiting up to play football against Concord Middle School. One changes lives; the other pays bills.

Every so often, an entrepreneur posts a cul “holy-shit” experience at my forum, reporting year-over-year income gains of 400 to 500 percent. Try getting that from a job.

The second element which makes “get rich quick” possible is clipping the strings of “time for money” or intrinsic value. Intrinsic value is the value of your time in a job endeavor. If you stock shelves at Target, your intrinsic value might be rated hourly at $12. If you're a doctor, it might be rated annually at $200,000. No matter which, income is capped and measured by the number of hours in a day, or years in a life. Creating massive wealth quickly requires this relationship to disintegrate.

Once the offense kicks into gear (and “get rich quick” graces a probability) saving money is not only easy, but it doesn't feel painful. For instance, my savings rate for the last fifteen years (net income less expenses) has been greater than 50 percent, sometimes as high as 70 percent. Save 10 percent of your paycheck? Funny. I can save big percentages of my income because my producerism is focused on ventures with controllable unlimited leverage. With an offensive mindset, I don't trade my time for money, I trade them into cul ventures.

Assume this: Instead of earning $40,000 a year, you now earn $40,000 a month. At that income, can you keep consumption quarantined, or marginally linear? Or will you fall for the consumer scam and ramp up spending parallel to production? And more importantly, at $40,000 a month, could you now save 50 percent of what you earn? And be debt-free in a matter of weeks?

Earlier in the consumption/production dichotomy, I mentioned Antoine Walker and his $110 million career earnings. A spectacular offense, right? But Zero defense. A great offense gave him championship enjoyment for years—fine living, luxury—but ultimately, a matador defense put him back in Shitsburg.

You see, once you're making five and six figures per month, as unscripted entrepreneurs do, decades or centuries aren't needed to become a millionaire—but years, sometimes months. An extraordinary life is won on offense; it is then preserved through defense. With an offensive game plan (earning thousands per month instead of thousands per year) time is no longer a hindrance. Once you witness explosive income via unscripted producerism, tossing nickels in a mason jar and waiting fifty years for stock-market miracles suddenly seems silly. In the race to win your freedom, an offensive stallion wins—not a defensive mule.

Chapter 25 Belief #8 The Compound-Interest Scam: Wall-Street Ain't Makin Ya Rich

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding a small flag in one hand, with vertical motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or achievement, suggesting that the individual has successfully reached a goal or won a competition.

The Dichotomy: Wealth (99%) versus Income (1%)

Nobody gambles in Las Vegas expecting to lose. Nope, you arrive at this opulent casino shimmering in imported crystal chandeliers and marble thinking you'll be the next big winner. You roll dice, hit some blackjacks, and plunk a few coins in the quarter slots. Your goal? To win the wealth that surrounds you. And yet, like the millions who gambled before you, it never clicks that such grand palaces aren't built on winners, but on losers. Sadly and unbeknown to the scripted, such duplicity also exists in the financial markets.

Thanks to the consensus myth perpetuated by a complicit government, an abetting media, and a cartel of financial conglomerates, the world's megacorporations forever enjoy a steady spigot of "wishful-money" much like the Vegas casino. In turn, the smart money, the few who own the casinos, then "slow cook" and manage the money, becoming fabulously wealthy in the process. While wishful-money victims take the gambled wait for the deferred promise of wealth, the scripted straitjacket cinches tighter. Meanwhile, bankers make bank.

Take for instance this story about Billy Banker and Iggy Investor.

Iggy, the consummate scripted Slowlaner, has fallen for temporal prostitution's B.F.F: compound interest. Iggy believes regular retail investments in stocks, mutual funds, and 401(k)s produce future wealth, provided Iggy patiently waits a few decades.

Fascinated by the market's wealth-curative powers, Iggy wins a tour of New York's financial district. Excited to witness how his money is managed, he meets his tour guide, Billy Banker, a successful hedge-fund manager.

The tour begins on the exchange floor with the opening bell and proceeds skyward to the penthouse offices. The elevator slides open, where Iggy enters a large atrium, overpowered by brash ivory and money-green marble floors. Atop a centerpiece, a lush floral arrangement of roses, orchids, and gladiolus scents the room—the last time Iggy saw so many flowers was at a funeral. Ahead, a large reception desk fashioned in similar-colored marble embosses the fund's official corporate insignia, a platinum sculpture probably sculpted by Picasso himself. Indeed, the ninety-eighth floor is presided over by the financial empire known as Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe.

The penthouse offices, each backlit by the imposing Manhattan skyline, home a variety of astutely manicured men, cuffed in tailored suits and diamond watches. Gregarious red-pinned leather chairs station large mahogany desks, exuding the type of power reserved for an emperor's throne room.

As the tour continues, Iggy peeks at the employee parking garage. It rivals an exotic car dealership featuring mur-say-dees, Maybachs, and McLarens. Others reveal that such trivialities are not needed and transact in caviar-stocked limousines and yachts docked at the marina.

By lunchtime, Iggy is amazed by the surrounding magnificence. He's enraptured that these bankers, stockbrokers, and hedge-fund managers are wildly successful managing money—his money. Billy Banker catches Iggy's enchantment and winks, "C'mon, we're not done yet."

After a short drive to Greenwich, Connecticut, Iggy is escorted into a guard-gated community featuring majestic brick estates with turreted architecture, grand porticoes, and brick-lined driveways winding through the pristine acreage.

“Here,” Billy Banker explains, motioning to the stately mansions, “is where we live.”

Iggy affirms, “Wow, finance is a great business to be in!” Billy Banker nods his head and corks a mercurial smile. Impressed his money appears in good hands, Iggy asks, “So Billy, if this is where you live, where do your customers live?”

Billy Banker signals his hand toward his B.M.W 7 Series and says, "Let me show you."

A short drive later, they are in Bridgeport, where Billy parks his Beemer on a street lined with narrow two-and three-story row houses. Iggy steps outside the car and absorbs the neighborhood.

The stench of diesel fuel steams the summer air. The potholed street is lined with broken cement sidewalks that have lost their battle with the years. Hugging the curb, a tireless Civic sits stilted on cinder blocks, its back window shattered in half, beaming like a perilous guillotine ready to behead an unsupervised child. Unlike the community they just visited where the skies were painted green with the flowering treetops from mature oaks, the sky here is littered with an entangled mass of electrical cables and telephone wires, feeding each house like breathing tubes to a comatose patient.

Iggy courts a momentary thought of Oz and Kansas.

Unlike the distinguished residences he just saw, the homes here are panicked in unique distress. Some have white picket fences, which are no longer white and no longer picketed. Other homeowners have outlined their properties with chain-link fences, which mostly lie nonfunctional and slumped over in disrepair. Box fans smother open windows; their curtain comrades dance unceremoniously, a coerced acknowledgment to the artificially induced breeze. The houses themselves stand incongruently organized, gangly and marred by rotting wood and flecking paint, each standing curbside like a chorus line of aging centuries proud to have withstood the turbulent decades.

Billy Banker pans his Rolex-wrapped hand outward and showcases the distressed avenue like a grand prize on The Price is Right.

“This, my friend, is where our customers live.”

Wall Street Won't Make You Rich

News flash! Compound interest is a scam. The stock market isn't going to make you rich. And neither will that E.T.F, that mutual fund, or that 401(k). That is, unless you plan on managing that E.T.F, that mutual fund, or that 401(k).

The truth is, the good folks on Wall Street aren't in the business of making you rich; they're in the ebook3000 dot com business of making themselves rich. And now that the government has backstopped their failures (but not yours), be assured, the compound-interest scam will remain one of most whitewashed belief scams in existence.

The compound-interest scam is this serendipitous orthodoxy that the stock market will someday make you, the common man, uncommonly rich. Shoveled down your throat in gag-worthy quantities and upheld by the frugality scam, this financial ideology cries for regimented saving, investing, and of course, patience, hopefully followed by a long life expectancy.

Again, peek inside any personal finance book. Within minutes, I guarantee you'll read the same old tired dance, a preachy sermon which sounds like this: Invest X dollars into the stock market every month for X decades, and abracadabra, just like magic, you'll have X millions by your sixty-fifth birthday! Such magical outcomes are then backed by magical charts, which undoubtedly show your financial empire magically ascending into the stratosphere. Such utopian claims are then paired with what I call the Utopian Graph—a financial chart illustrating how much money compounds after fifty years if you just stop drinking coffee and, instead, religiously invest those savings with Billy Banker.

“Start investing early and often,” the articles say. “Compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe,” echo the financial acolytes. #SlowClap. #RollEyes.

Anytime the Utopian Graph rears its face—be warned—you're about to be laundered in the compound-interest scam.

The same narrative powering Las Vegas powers the compound-interest scam: a survivor bias. When someone wins, you'll hear about it. Big winners grab headlines. When a coworker wins in Vegas, you'll hear about it in a Facebook status. And while he won $263, thousands of others lost hundreds, thousands, and yes, even millions.

Those losers? They say nothing. Crickets. They don't appear in headlines, and they don't make the statistics. But these statistics do peek insight into the survivor bias' size and who goes home a quiet loser: The Wynn Casino cost $2.7 billion to build. Bellagio: $1.6 billion. Singapore's Sentosa: just under $5 billion.

Similarly, when Iggy Investor wins at Wall Street, we're guaranteed to hear about it—on Yahoo's front page, in best-selling "Millionaire" books, or in some financial magazine whose ad revenues are funded by the money megafirms. Every day someone, somewhere, trumpets these frugalicious stories. The subversion method, always the same: plaster the photo of a young couple and their kids standing in front of a cute house, arms crossed, ceremoniously smiling with a shit-eating grin, and then tag with click-bait...

- Millionaires in the making: Joe and Cindy have amassed a half-million-dollar nest egg while dumpster diving for expired meat behind Trader Joes!

- Twenty-nine-year-old millionaire reveals how he built his wealth never earning more than 80 thousand dollars a year!

And then you're hit with the shtick. They're possessed by the frugality scam—ridiculously obsessive about money, coupons, and thrift but squanderous with time. Defensive Gollums. They're the ones asking the Safeway cashier to do a thirty-five-cent price check on the bananas, stealing seven minutes of your life you'll never get back.

Or worse, some “survivor” articles are hoaxes.

In October of 2014, Yahoo Finance featured an article about a twenty-seven-year-old millionaire (named Anton), which trumpeted the compound-interest scam. After reading the story and the cursory numbers, I immediately thought something smelled fishy. I know income and investment returns, but his numbers simply didn't add up. I posted my skepticism on my forum. A week later, my suspicions were confirmed: the story was fake and “Anton” acquired most of his wealth through inheritance, not via market investments.

Thanks to the survivor bias, you aren't getting the real story. What you don't read are the financial failures. You don't hear about Ted, who lost half his savings in 2008's market crash.

You don't hear about Martha, who lost her pension because of fiduciary mismanagement. You don't hear about Harold, who trusted the compound-interest ruse for thirty-two years and died young at fifty-two, never enjoying the fruits of his thrifty savings—a casualty to dying rich in cash but poor in experience.

You see, the survivor bias keeps successes spotlighted and failures buried. It showcases the few who win and ignores the rest. Statistics of non-survivors? Good luck finding them. And if such statistics were sought, who would fund it? The government? Vanguard? J.P Morgan Chase? Nope. Truth doesn't keep scripted slaves enslaved.

And then we have compound interest's prejudicial parties, people who sell more fairy tales than Disney. Turns out, these fiscal hypocrites aren't rich because of compound interest, but are rich from teaching it. Through best-selling books featuring survivors, syndicated radio shows, and incentivized financial products, the financial gurus make millions propagating the scam.

In 2015, Tony Robbins released the book Money: Master the Game. Before I could buy the book, my inbox blew up with emails from those venting that his new book was another compound-interest conspirator. Tony seemingly morphed from an awesome motivational guy to just another Wall Street chill. Anyone with a scant of intelligence knows Mr. Robbins amassed a fortune selling books and high-priced seminars, not mutual funds. Could it be that the book is really a “trip wire”?

A tool stumbling starry-eyed idolaters into a back-end sales funnel, which makes millions on management fees, referrals, seminars, or whatever else carries a big price tag? The duplicity cost Tony a fan, but I doubt he's worried. As for the book, readers told me to avoid it, hence sparing me the pain of gouging out my eyes with an ice pick.

And finally, the compound-interest belief is missing the most important things of all: youth and abundance. In all of recorded history, not one person has gone from zero to $50 million in ten years because they invested in the S&P 500. Did you ever hear the story about the thirty-year-old billionaire who got rich clipping coupons and investing in mutual funds? Ha, nope, neither have I. However, there are plenty of Wall Street millionaires/billionaires under thirty, as well as entrepreneurs. An eighteen-year-old multimillionaire entrepreneur exists—the eighteen-year-old coupon-clipping, miserly stock-market multimillionaire does not. Oh wait, or does it?

In December of 2014, The New Yorker magazine published an article featuring eighteen-year-old Mohammed Islam, who claimed making $72 million trading stocks. Trading on his lunch break, Islam claimed to net a staggering return while investing in E.T.F's, oil futures, and other financial instruments. After reading, I concluded, once again, bullshit. I called it out (again) on my forum. My reasoning? Mathematically impossible. Sure enough, twenty-four hours later the story was exposed as a lie. Islam made it up. Turns out, he was another easily impressed young man fascinated with the Wall Street hyperculture—ya know, the place where sordid characters like Gordon Gekko and Jordan Belfort are hero-worshiped by money-hungry sycophants.

In short, a few outliers find fortune in Las Vegas; however, most do not. Instead, gaudier and flashier slaughterhouses rise into the sky, feeding their hustlers steady drips of cash while the sheep they impress get slaughtered. The compound-interest scam is temporal prostitution's pimp—a gambled trade where your young-years are sacrificed on the pedestal of patient mediocrity while hoping to get paid old-years later. Brilliant, eh?

The Truth Trifecta: Killing Compound Interest With Its Own Blood

Behind compound interest and its Utopian Graphs are mathematical truths driving exponential growth. For example, if you grew one hundred dollars at 10 percent interest compounded annually for fifty years, you'd end up with over $11,000. If you saved one hundred dollars monthly at the same rate for fifty years, you'd end up with more than a $1.4 million. Cue Darth Vader because that's impressive, most impressive. And these compound-interest calculations are not conjecture but mathematical absolutes as much as one plus one equals two. Indeed, compound interest is powerful, as the emperor has foreseen.

Unfortunately, mathematical absolutes and human reality aren't the same thing.

Compound interest's ineffectiveness is like trying to survive a sinking Titanic. You know the boat will sink in 2 hours and without a lifeboat, you will die. And yet the compound interest cheerleaders have brainwashed you into believing another story: They say a lifeboat will save you if you just patiently wait 8 hours for it to arrive. On our sinking death boat, we simply don't have 8 hours.

Nonetheless, I do agree that compound interest is a powerful concept. Seriously, if my five-year finance degree taught me anything, it was that. However, you know what else is powerful? And not so forgiving? The fiscal Tricycle.

(T)ime.

(R) Eality.

(1) Nflation.

Wheeled by (T)ime, (R)eality, and (1)inflation, the fiscal Tricycle debunks compound interest, and it's why it won't make you rich. Mathematically speaking, compound interest is like the fastest man on the planet, say Usain Bolt. He's powerful when unencumbered, like simple compound-interest calculations. However, saddle him on a tricycle, the three-wheeler of time, reality, and inflation, and suddenly he's impotent and slow-moving. It's like putting Jeff Gordon in a school bus and expecting 800-horsepower performance. Utopian Graphs with grand promises cannot be trusted because they're unencumbered analyses based in a hindsighted vacuum void of mortal time, reality, or inflation. Here's how the fiscal Tricycle castrates compound interest as a reliable wealth creator.

Truth #1: Time

Dead millionaires tell no tales.

They also don't go on luxury cruises down the Rhine, make love with their hot wives, or relax on the Riviera, Cognac in hand. Time cannot be stopped, avoided, or beaten. It's the ultimate human reaper, and it's why time is the first ax in compound interest's castration.

First, “buy and hold” has no exit. No one ever talks about selling because it's buy and die. The common denominator in all Utopian Chart extrapolations is time, and a heaping load of it. Not months or years but decades, amounting to more than 83 percent of your life, starting at age eighteen. Your typical Utopian Graph shows a nominal investment grown over fifty years, usually starting when you're eighteen years old.

Not sure about you, but I didn't save shit when I was eighteen. Instead, I spent everything and piled on debt.

The truth is, most people don't start saving until their thirties. (This also falls in line with “reality,” but that's next.) According to a BankRate dot com survey, 27 percent of Americans have Zero savings, while 76 percent of Americans live paycheck to paycheck with enough savings to last only six months. Six months? The average American can't save a multi-monthed emergency fund, let alone a multi-yeared retirement stretch. That means mimicking the ubiquitous Utopian Graph is impossible because too much time has already passed. The S&P 500 won't grow $1,000 into $2 million in twenty years. And while the compound-interest blowards advocate starting at any age, portfolios give zero shifts.

They are apathetic to your life expectancy, your circumstances, and your health. Like the honey badger, the markets don't care.

A dead millionaire is still, well, dead.

For example, I ripped this from the web, showing how blinded people can be when it comes to the compound-interest scam. The article headlined:

Warren Buffett Tells You How to Turn 40 dollars Into 10 Million dollars.

The body stated:

A few years ago, Berkshire Hathaway C.E.O and Chairman Warren Buffett spoke about one of his favorite companies, Coca Cola, and how after dividends, stock splits, and patient reinvestment, someone who bought just 40 worth of the company's stock when it went public in 1919, would now have more than 5 million. Yet in April 2012, when the board of directors proposed a stock split of the beloved soft-drink manufacturer, the figure was updated and the company noted that the original 40 would now be worth 9.8 million.

So, who is this magical someone who magically invested forty dollars in 1919 and is rolling in cash today?

Turns out it's nobody.

If you were sixteen years old in 1919 (born, 1903) and somehow got your hands on forty dollars, which then was about a thousand bucks, you'd now be 113 years old. In other words, you'd be a dead multimillionaire. And yet you're supposed to believe this unicorn exists, someone who survived polio, the Spanish flu, both world wars, the Chosin Valley, Hamburger Hill, the Carter administration, the F.D.A food pyramid, and cancer.

You can't make this shit up, and yet people salivate at the charts like a butcher's dog.

Folks, this ghost thesis isn't a compound-interest study but an example of how most people fail to think critically about time and money. Resign yourself to compound interest for wealth and you've resigned yourself to "hope and time" for freedom: hope I'm alive after X decades; hope my money is worth something after X decades; and hope the markets yield X percent after X decades. Sorry, hope based on variable returns, variable market instruments, and variable life expectancy is a bad plan. And a band of Billy Bankers are hoping hope is your plan.

Think of it this way. Every year, you are advised to snip off body parts: a finger, a toe, a spleen, a kidney, or an earlobe. Your body parts are then “invested” with Cryogenics Asset Management, L.L.C, who cryogenically freeze your parts for later sale. The government, the media, and your trusted advisors say, “After five decades, your body parts will be worth millions, and you can retire and travel the world!” Then after following diligently for half a century, you discover that (A) the cryogenic freezing process failed, (B) your body parts weren't worth the promised millions, or worse, (C) your body is so ravaged with missing parts and other ailments that you're either dead or your millions cannot be enjoyed. Starting over, reversing course, or switching gears is now impossible.

Too much time has passed. When wealth now is traded for a promise of wealth later, you're snipping body parts.

Truth #2: Reality

Another trick upholding compound interest is a denial of reality.

Behind the Utopian Graphs and their perceived wealth powers is a magical interest rate, or a growth rate, that no one can mimic, at least in practical real-world application. Specifically, there's an interest rate illusion, which is always upheld “matter-of-factly”—an arbitrary number implying stress-and risk-free investing. A typical Utopian Graph pegs their growth rates as 8, 10, and sometimes even 12 percent and then assigns that growth to some risky asset class cherry-picked from hindsight.

A 10,000 dollar investment in gold ten years ago would now be worth X dollars!

If you invested in the S&P 500 right after the 2008 crash, 10,000 dollars would now be worth X dollars!

If you invested in 100 shares of Apple Corporation back in 1999, it would now be worth $X!

Again, these returns are based on hindsight and aren't risk-free. For every Apple, there's an Enron. For every commodity boom, there's a commodity crash. Bubbles come and go, bankers get bayled out, and you're left holding the bag. Chasing a growth rate is a fool's game, and the last time a 12 percent yield was offered by a financial firm, it was run by a guy now jailed at the Butner Federal Correctional Facility. The risks associated with 10 percent growth rates are more suited for Hollywood stuntmen, not Mildred and Walter living in Sun City.

Second, arbitrary compound-interest calculations planted within the nexus of the financial markets are another deceptive shadow. Simple math solving compound-interest calculations is real—a hypothetical interest rate is plugged in with a time frame, and bam, you get a large number befit to an agenda. Unfortunately, the obscured truth is different.

In the financial markets, an interest rate (or a growth rate) must be attributed to a financial instrument, such as a stock, bond, or an asset class. Interest (or growth) rates cannot exist without a corresponding instrument or asset class attached. This creates the rate! And each instrument carries risk, which means you could lose some, or all, of your money.

What should the Utopian Graphs really be based upon?

The risk-free growth rate. After all, when you arbitrarily plug a number into a formula and magically see your thousands turn into millions, you aren't taking a risk. It's simple, risk-free mathematics.

So what's the risk-free rate? Its number is pegged by the three-month U.S Treasury bill rate, which I'd argue isn't risk-free, but that's another book. Anyway, as of October 2015, guess the rate...

It's a staggering 0.03 percent.

That's three-hundredths of a percent. That means, plugged into our Utopian Chart, one hundred dollars grows to 101 dollars and 51 cents after fifty years. Enjoy the buck! On monthly one-hundred-dollar investments, it grows to more than 60,000 dollars, which adjusted for inflation is barely 8,000 dollars in today's money. That is what's expected taking the "risk-free" approach.

Interested in taking on more risk? Well, that's what Billy Banker is hoping!

There are catastrophic consequences when trying to make the Utopian Charts work based on simple plug-in growth rates: Yield chasing. Unacceptable risks. Greed. All cloud your judgment. When your Wells Fargo savings barely pays 0.02 percent, it's easy to feel frustrated. And suddenly liars, cheats, and scoundrels have your ear. Underneath any financial scam is a victim chasing a growth rate promoted by a Utopian Chart and an opportunist offering it.

For example, there's David Fleet. Through a variety of newsletters and advertisements placed in church publications, Fleet advised potential investors using a message similar to my own: the stock market is risky. Instead, he recommended an investment in his real-estate business, offering investors a guaranteed 10 percent annual return. He raised over $17 million, mostly from elderly investors, and then in the ultimate irony, lost it all in the stock market. In December 2014, the S.E.C charged Fleet with multiple counts of securities fraud, proving again two things: (1) the market is no place to create wealth, just like a strip club is no place to find your future virgin wife; and (2) for every yield-chasing fool, there's a yield-offering con man. And in this case, it wasn't outrageous, like 20 percent per year, but a mere 10 percent!

In another example, F-Squared Investments, an investment firm headquartered near Boston, exposes more reality checks pertaining to Utopian Charts. This firm claimed to own a sophisticated computer model that could time market entries and exits. Investors bought the tale, investing more than $28 billion. F-Squared claimed returns of more than 198 percent since 2001. In December 2014, the S.E.C found otherwise and levied the returns were entirely made up, a fabrication hatched by its company's C.E.O. As usual, investors took a haircut.

No Utopian Charts were updated.

And these are just recent examples.

The financial world is rife with tales of defrauded investors, all chasing yield and the charted illusion of wealth. The most egregious example of wealth destruction via the stock market was the 2008 market crash, which incidentally almost crashed the entire financial system. Now does that sound like a “safe” place for your life savings? As the market swallowed portfolios and early retirement aspirations died, reality took over. And that reality?

Fear.

Most sold, and suddenly Utopian Charts became dystopia. And to date, many have not reentered the markets. According to a University of Michigan analysis conducted on Federal Reserve reports, market participation was at a dismal 16 percent in 2013, compared to 30 percent in 2001.

As I write this, the markets are at record highs. And despite the market fervor, the middle class is not better off. The sudden stock-market growth should've elevated America's heartland into prosperity, and yet such prosperity is curiously absent.

Compared to the late-nineties market exuberance during the Internet boom, we're not seeing the wealth effect with the market recovery because people are fearful. And suspicious. They've learned that compound math on a napkin and compound math complicated by a financial instrument is like the difference between gambling with Monopoly money and gambling with your firstborn. Utopian Charts never account for Fear.

These two scam scenarios exemplify when the reality of human emotion, fear and greed, poison simple compound-interest equations that buoy Utopian Charts. Investors chase. They get greedy. And they get screwed. Meanwhile, Billy Banker makes bank.

On the whole, compound-interest calculations based on simple math don't require resilience, they don't face fear, they don't time markets, and they don't need to manage risk. Compound-interest calculations based on reality? Actual financial instruments that can go from hero to zero in a matter of days? That requires nerves of steel, a risk appetite, and also a heaping pile of hard-earned money. The financial world is filled with market prognosticators who promise mythical returns foretold by mythical charts.

Tune in to C.N.B.C on any day and one expert predicts skyrocketing markets while another predicts doom and gloom. One recommends, “Buy gold!” and the other admonishes, “Sell gold!” The point is no one fucking knows. But know what they do know? Your guesses, whether right or wrong, will make them millions.

Truth #3: Inflation

Compound interest has an evil twin, one who doesn't seek attention or grab glory from the front pages of financial blogs. It lies hidden for years, silently ravaging portfolios like termites in an old barn. The third and final compound-interest castrator also has the same power of its sibling: compound shook3000 dot com inflation.

Every Utopian Chart ignores plausible growth rates, plausible fear, and plausible inflation. The reality of your money-printing government? One dollar today will be worth much less tomorrow. And with our government's continued debt appetite, your dollars might end up worthless.

Back within our original compound-interest calculation of $100 monthly investments, $1.5 million in “fifty years later” money might only buy you a new Chevy. It might only be a down payment on a double-wide in a mobile home park. It might be today's equivalent of $50,000, which simply isn't much to live on, at least not abundantly or freely.

The Utopian Chart propagandists want you blind to inflation. They want your focus on the end result: X millions after fifty years with today's thinking. Today's thinking projects those millions with today's health, today's buying power, and today's circumstances. O.M.G, I'll have $7 million if I follow this simple one-hundred-dollar plan? I'll be able to travel the world and buy a mansion in the suburbs with a Lamborghini parked in the driveway!

The inflationary truth is more sobering. One hundred years ago, a quarter bought many things: several loaves of bread, a can of coffee, or a pound of sirloin steak. A quarter in my childhood got me a pack of gum and ten minutes on Pac-Man. Today it buys nothing. From 1913 to 1940, total inflation was a nonfactor at 43.8 percent, or an annual average of 1.6 percent. However, from 1940 to 2013, it was more than 2,000 percent. That means the ubiquitous Utopian Chart would need to grow 2,000 percent just to break even!

Despite the media's contention that inflation is under control, American families aren't finding it so. From February 2000 to April 2014, the cost of living has skyrocketed. Utilities, up 81 percent. Auto insurance, up 69 percent. Medical supplies and drugs, up 60 percent. Food to fill the refrigerator, up 43 percent. Gas to fill the car, up 70 percent. Meanwhile, wages and salaries have not followed. According to Pew Research, the average wage peaked more than forty years ago when about 4 an hour had the same purchasing power as 22 dollars today.

The Utopian Charts cannot be trusted because trust is not in the calculation. Can you trust the government to be a good steward of taxpayer money? Can you trust fiscal policy makers to keep inflation from exploding?

Can you trust a growing economy for five decades? Answer these questions honestly and you'll realize inflation is a gamble and your bet is placed with people who historically have not been prudent. For me, I'm unwilling to make a multi-decade-long gamble reliant on ivory-tower economists, financial megacorporations, and a lying government who can't stop lying as they print money. Compound inflation is as powerful as compound interest.

Consider the Source

If the devil funded a study reporting that 91 percent of hell's inhabitants were happy, would you believe it? Such duplicity is common in pharmaceuticals and agriculture. When the public needs assurance that the latest drug, chemical sweetener, or frankenfood is safe, the conglomerate funds research studies to support their agenda. When such conclusions come from the mouths of corporate giants like Monsanto or Pfizer, many people are skeptical, including myself. Interestingly, drug and agricultural studies from biased interests face critical scrutiny, even from the scripted populous. However, the financial world gets a mulligan.

Never a week passes where the world is spared from seeing another insufferable Utopian Chart shoveled out by the mainstream media, another pseudo proclamation that wealth's secret rests in Wall Street's grimy hands. For example, my last sufferance came from Business Insider. The juicy headline?

Every 25 year old Needs to See This Chart...

Of course, it was a Utopian Chart arguing the stale compound-interest mimetic. My headlined rebuttal would be a bit different. It'd read:

Every 25 year old Needs to Wake the Hell up and See W.H.O is Promoting This Chart

The creator of such a fine mathematical analysis?

None other than J.P Morgan Asset Management.

Instead of believing the narrative, start questioning W.H.O wants you to believe the narrative. Consider the source. Instead of sanctifying this crap as if Moses ambled down from Mount Sinai and delivered the missive himself, ask who benefits from your belief. Where are the millionaires?

Investor dot gov is an arm of the Securities and Exchange Commission, the government's regulatory body for financial securities. On Investor dot gov, I found a variety of resources, including a compound-interest calculator. Odd, the calculator had no field for inflation. In fact, Investor dot gov had no such calculators—inflation, cost of living, or otherwise. There was also no mention of the current $20 trillion federal deficit.

Other compound-interest sponsors are the finance websites and magazines who are collusive in perpetrating the scam. Financial companies pay kings' ransoms to promote a variety of banks, brokerages, and fund companies. Such advertising is then buttressed by survivor articles.

See how Charlie Cheapskate became a millionaire while driving a taxi six days a week!

And then you're hit with the shtick. He's a scarcity whack job smitten by the frugality scam, sewing his own clothes, refusing to dine out with friends, and pedaling a bike to the store. Simply put, his life sucks ass.

It's like money possesses these people, transforming them into religious fanatics who don't worship God, but nickels and dimes. Like dangling Marionettes, these poor saps are limited by wherever their money strings lead—or I should say, don't lead.

Another peeving example came from Forbes, a magazine I genuinely like. In 2013, Forbes sponsored a video aptly entitled, “How to Get Rich.” The video pushed the “wealth fantasy,” featuring your usual run-of-the-mill financial chauvinists, like Jack Bogle and Meredith Whitney, each championing the financial markets, compound interest, and your typical hodgepodge of scripted doctrine. After watching the video, I could only chuckle at the unspoken hypocrisy.

So I did a little research into Forbes cover models. I was curious how many Forbes millionaires and billionaires actually followed this advice as recommended in the video.

Look for yourself. Try and find One Forbes cover model whose fortune was created because they diligently invested with Wall Street like we retail investors, a.k.a. Iggy Investor, are instructed to do. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Welcome back. What did you find?

Let me guess—nothing.

Subtract the entrepreneurs, the inheritors, the sports and entertainment titans, the corporate insiders, and those that serve the financial industry over investing in it, and you'll find exactly what I found: the stock market isn't making investors wealthy; it's making its servants wealthy.

As expected and cleverly ignored, not one Forbes cover model got rich following the “wealth fantasy,” but an overflowing handful of them got rich perpetrating the advice. In other words, if you want to get on the cover of Forbes, don't take advice from Forbes.

In September 2012, the S.E.C charged radio personality Ray Lucia for allegedly spreading misleading ebook3000 dot com information about his pet investment scheme, the “Buckets of Money.” To obtain clients who would be charged advisory fees for their services, Lucia claimed to yield-chasing attendees that his strategy was empirically backtested, even during bear markets.

The S.E.C felt differently. According to the charge, the S.E.C claimed Lucia used a lower 3 percent inflation rate for his backtesting methodology, even though historical inflation was much higher. Furthermore, the S.E.C claimed that Lucia's “backtesting” failed to account for the negative effect his advisory fees would have plundered from the strategy, a strategy in which funds weren't even allocated by the strategy he purported. L.O.L. And yeah, no Utopian Charts were updated.

Again, this shouldn't shock you. The greatest game in town is not investing in the markets but managing the money of those who do. Perhaps Mr. Lucia will be the next big smile gracing Forbes' cover.

What? Who? I'm sorry, I hear a heckler in the cheap seats.

What about Warren Buffett? Carl Icahn? Bill Ackman? They got rich from the stock market, right? Sorry, despite what you've heard from good old Warren, he's not a traditional stock investor like you or me but an activist investor. I know, I know—when Warren Buffett speaks, the lemmings' ears bleed gold. However, instead of falling to your knees and convulsing in an orgasmic tizzy, I'd recommend putting on your research cap and examining what Warren says and what Warren does; are they always equal?

Anyhow, if you aren't familiar with activists, these are moneyed investors who purchase huge blocks of stock with the intent of influencing corporate strategy. Yes, Buffett doesn't buy stock and “hope” it goes up. Instead, activists take large positions where they can move markets, acquire voting rights, and appoint board members. They exert control and influence corporate policy, a key element separating You, Iggy Investor, from Buffett the activist.

Bottom line, people like Warren Buffett and those pushing the compound-interest agenda aren't using Warren Buffett's conventional investment wisdom; they're the ones profiting from it. While the scripted peasantry buys the funds, the compound-interest apostles run the funds. And the ultimate fact: There are no experts in the financial markets. One expert says Dow 20,000; another says Dow 10,000—both clueless, both equally likely to be correct, and both hoping you'll buy into their circus.

A market direction cannot be predicted, but you know what can? Juicy management fees from M.O.D.E.L. Citizens.

Polarizer: The Capital-Principle

You probably think I hate Wall Street. Or that I don't own any stocks, mutual funds, or financial instruments. Both would be incorrect. In fact, my approach to Wall Street is identical to my approach to Vegas. Just because I know Vegas produces more losers than winners doesn't mean I don't go.

You see, instead of looking at Wall Street or Vegas for what they can be, I look at them for what they are. When I hit the Vegas Strip, I'm not looking to get rich or to defy the odds. Instead, I'm looking to be entertained. I bet in ten, maybe twenty-five-dollar increments, effectively transforming a gamble into entertainment.

Likewise, when it comes to Wall Street, I take the same approach. I'm not using the markets for how they're marketed—to create wealth—but instead I use them for what they are: the buying and selling of capital in exchange for income (interest) or equity (appreciation). According to Investopedia, the formal definition of a capital market is that it “channels savings and investment between suppliers of capital such as retail investors and institutional investors, and users of capital like businesses, government and individuals.” Note, the definition says nothing about getting rich.

In Chapter 47, I will go into significant detail regarding the capital-principle, but for the purpose of this belief dichotomy, it's this: The capital markets are to be used for income, capital deployment, liquidity, and asset speculation. And when you have a lot of money to deploy, suddenly compound interest reverses its tide; it becomes an effective tool for creating 100 percent reoccurring passive income.

For example, a lot of my net worth is invested in bonds: municipal (tax-free), corporate, emerging markets, and closed-end funds. Other investments are in dividend stocks, like Southern Company, Holly Energy, and a nice allocation of R.E.I.T's. See? I don't hate Wall Street because Wall Street allows my money to work for me 24/7. The net effect is I let compound interest pay me monthly, 99 percent hands-off residuals payments, but only once compound interest becomes an effective growth multiplier.

For example, take a paltry 3.5 percent return, which is offered on a municipal bond. The effective return, because it's exempt from taxes, is nearly 7 percent. Take a look at the difference in monthly, passive returns.

- 1,000 dollar investment equals 2.91 dollars per month

- 4 million dollar investment equals 11,666 dollars and 66 cents per month

More than $10,000 per month, tax-free, doing absolutely nothing, and with a tiny interest rate. Imagine the joy. Imagine the freedom.

Imagine. And yet, I don't need to imagine, because this is my reality. You can activate compound interest's praised power only if you can earn and save millions fast, not when you use it to turn nickels into dimes as the compound-interest scam implores. Explode wealth by leveraging producerism through the unscripted framework—then compound interest can pay you residually for the rest of your life.

Another aspect of the capital-principle is as a tool to beat inflation. If you're looking to devalue money through time, stick it in a bank or under the mattress. Money does in fact sleep, but only when it's not properly deployed.

I use the capital markets to deploy cash so it outpaces inflation. Sometimes that is foreign currencies, short-term bonds, or yes, even a mutual fund or two.

Asset speculation is another component of the capital-principle. This is akin to gambling, like in Vegas, and please, don't bother arguing it isn't. You can look at technical analysis charts all day, analyze income and cash-flow statements, smoke tea leaves, and pray to the holy Cramer, but no one knows if Company X will be the big winner, or the big loser. We can make educated guesses, but that's all they are: guesses.

That said, I engage in asset speculation regularly by investing in companies I understand and like, and with money I can afford to lose. Sometimes things go well; sometimes they don't. Sounds like Vegas, eh?

And the best and final use for the capital markets? Liquidity. When an entrepreneur sells his company in an I.P.O, it's like winning the Super Bowl. Either indirectly or directly, the capital markets transfer liquidity from the selling owners (the founders and early seed capitalists) to the public (investors and speculators).

In the end, Wall Street is not a place for growing wealth but a place for asset speculation, earning income, and deploying capital. Yes, save early and often. However, don't think you can sail to the promised land on a compound-interest wave—it's ineffective for creating wealth unless millions are amassed First; then it's powerful, perhaps as powerful as Lustig's money-printing machine.

If your wealth strategy is compound interest, what uncontrollable variables are lagging and endangering your retirement? Market returns? Savings rate? Job stability? The economy? Life expectancy? Inflation?

Image summary: This figure is a graphic illustration. It contains text identifying a chapter and title regarding cognitive biases and brain delusions, accompanied by a stick figure with raised arms in a celebratory pose. The image suggests a thematic introduction to a discussion on how the human mind can be misled by biases, using a simplified human figure to represent the subject of these psychological phenomena.

Chapter 26 The Biases: Your Brain's Delusions

Authentic You versus Your Brain

In the Seinfeld sitcom, Newman is Jerry's mortal enemy. In our unscripted fight, our Newman isn't an external adversary—it's our brains.

Every one of us fights an inner battle between our soulful desires and our brain's reflexive impetuses. In one corner, there's an authentic you—striving for success and happiness. In the other corner is your impetuous brain—an emotional, obstinate machine that hates change and loves scripted protagonists: predictability, shortcuts, and security.

If the Authentic You versus your Brain battle were a football game, your brain would be favored by four touchdowns. Recognize the war and you can win. Others have no idea it exists. And if you aren't aware of it, guess what? You're losing.

Your brain's offense in this battle is its biases: scripted, self-defeating cognitive obstructions defended and reinforced through autonomous thinking patterns, allowing snap judgments and worldly inferences, often in an illogical fashion. Other obstructions mislead, pickpocketing time and effort through misinformation. All together, these biases keep you mired into either inaction or wrongful action.

Exposing these obstructions (and their misinformation) starts with being less human and more Vulcan—a conscious shift from the emotional to the logical. Move from hearing your brain to watching it, as if it were a detached entity unto itself. In other words, start thinking about how you think.

As you pursue unscripted using (tunef), there are seven primary brain battles you'll face. They are:

- Change Adversity Antithetical Apathy Podium Popping Momentum Paralysis

- Righteousness Semmelwashing Survivor Spotlighting

Change Adversity: Why Refusing Change Is Refusing Excellence

Your brain's quarterback in the (Authentic You versus Your Brain) war is change adversity. Change adversity is your brain's predilection for comfort and status quo despite being surrounded by change. Behind change adversity is what's called a status quo bias—our brain's preference for predictability over instability. With change adversity as our brain's frontline defense, change adversity's threats are double-edged.

The first threat thwarts behavioral change. By default, we prefer our actions to be routine and familiar. Whatever your situation, it marks the baseline where change is felt negatively as discomfort, pain, or loss.

In business, change adversity is felt whenever a major website is redesigned. Change a website's user interface (U.I) and watch feathers ruffle. Anytime Facebook changes their U.I, a lynch mob marches in Menlo Park. Major website overhauls always spark resistance and friction, regardless of improvements. This is change adversity speaking.

Additionally, change adversity writes the script in today's politically correct culture of mediocrity. Take for example the “fat acceptance” movement, where people want obesity's health hazards whitewashed. Recommend that people stop Big-Gulping huge vats of unrefined sugar and—look out—you'll be labeled a “fat-shamer.” Underneath the P.C B.S is denial—a denial of truth and reality so the pain of changing to a better diet can be avoided. In this case, change adversity protects us from loss—loss of our Cokes, our Papa John's, and our Ben and Jerry's.

Change adversity mesmerizes us into behavior normalization: an errant conviction that great change can happen without a great behavior change. As the old saying goes, “The definition of insanity is to do the same things repeatedly and expect different results.” In the end, life does not change because we won't change. It's like trying to roast marshmallows without a fire.

For example, I've been lifting for twenty-five years. However, I admit I suffer stagnate periods where my regular effort doesn't yield results. Within these moments, I step outside my brain and admit regular has happened; it's time to change—diet, regime, something—and change it in a big way. The greatest physical improvement happened when I replaced my afternoon workout with a fasted 4 AM workout. As a night owl, this was a huge change, and huge results I received. I saw my abs—as a middle-aged dude, let me tell ya, that's huge!

Change must precede change. Would you believe this is the big secret for success? Obvious, eh? Well, not really.

Because change is an uncomfortable choice, people try anything to get change without change. Everyone wants positive results, and yet, no one wants to change their choices. Instead, we would rather plod through the same routines with the same skills and the same behavior, hoping not to get the same results.

The diet industry preys on change adversity: “I lost thirty-five pounds and didn't stop eating my Twinkies!” Sure you did.

Behind any great story is a great change story led by a choice, which recirculates back to the process principle. Don't like the job or lackluster results? Then choose change, and act until echo.

The second threat of change adversity is how we react to it, or choose not to see it at all. This is the difference between making or missing a fortune, or going bankrupt. Opportunity is served on the silver platter of change and change is always happening. Change precedes fortune. I made a fortune because I recognized and took advantage of a shift in search behavior.

Others make fortunes in how people use technology, from ordering a car (oo-ber) to ordering a movie (Netflix). Mobile gaming, self-publishing, solar power and hundreds of other industries are changing, and hence, creating fortunes. If you miss one change—don't worry—another is coming.

On the flipside, RadioShack, the small electronics store often bookending strip malls, went bankrupt in 2015, and it's a classic example of an organization resisting change. Even the name is synonymous with stuck on stuck—they might as well been named “Typewriter Emporium”. Radio is a mid-century technology, and when RadioShack refused to rebrand and change their operations, they sealed their fate. Remember Blockbuster Video? They refused change while Netflix saw the future for on-demand movies. By the time Blockbuster realized it was drowning by a change tsunami, it was too late.

Do you see other companies on the verge of extinction because they are too slow or refuse to change? In my opinion, Major League Baseball is a dying sport because it refuses to adapt to an attention-impaired culture accustomed to a media diet of instant and controlled gratification.

In the end, change marks the black ink of billionaires and the red ink of ruin. When change adversity is stamped out, we can be on the winning side of change by changing ourselves. Change keeps you poor or makes you rich. You decide which.

Righteousness: Why You'd Rather Be Right Than Rich

Askhole.

That's the name for someone who asks for advice and doesn't take it. Instead, they'd rather argue the advice or ignore it altogether. Askholes are quite common on my forum, and it has nothing to do with stubbornness but with their righteousness. Righteousness is not about being fair or just but about our urgency to see and hear only things that support our biases, while discounting, ignoring, or arguing the rest.

For example, if you're a left-wing Marxist who thinks Mao and Chavez were the greatest leaders since the invention of electricity, you probably get your news from M.S.N.B.C. Likewise, if you think former President Obama was born in Kenya and prays five times a day for Salat, you're probably tuned in to the Fox News Channel. Both statements are ridiculous, but I guarantee you probably loved one of them and hated the other. The point is, you will fortify and quarantine your beliefs from adverse incursion—it's simply easier nodding your head in agreement rather than spending mental energy examining conflicting or challenging thought patterns.

Worse, it has been psychologically proven that our convictions actually get stronger when presented with conflicting evidence. This is why political arguments on Facebook are pointless, regardless of how many charts, graphs, and data you present. Political derision is so polarized nowadays that facts don't matter—you could have video evidence of a partisan politician slaughtering puppies and murdering grandmas; voters wouldn't care. Nope, that's my guy.

Anyhow, righteousness works hand in hand with change adversity.

Your immediate need to be right (confirming your biases) often trumps your will to win a victory in the future. Those askholes on my forum? They're more interested in being right, right now, than being wrong but profitable and successful later.

I experienced this inconsistent behavior in money management recently. Several months ago, I tried selling an overpriced bond investment I predicted was due for a correction. Selling would lock in profits. I placed a limit sell order and then left for the day. Unfortunately, I forgot about my order until several days later where I shockingly discovered that the order never traded and I still owned the shares.

During that time, the share price significantly declined, costing me thousands. Think I was upset? The truth is I wasn't. In fact, I was indifferent, maybe even a little bit happy. Why? Because I was right. And we love being right.

The point is, our brain seeks confirmation that we're right, often without considering if we really are. And the idea of confirming our rightness feels awfully good. You see, you'd rather be right than rich.

Another danger of righteousness is it shields you from red flags. Instead of righteousness preventing fortune, it could prevent happiness. For example, there's a young man on my forum who, by all accounts, won his dream job.

He designs video games for one of the largest video-game developers in North America. It's a high-paying, highly sought job and whenever there's a similar job opening, resumes pile up and lines form around buildings. Anyhow, he believed wholeheartedly he had his dream job. After he won the position over hundreds of other candidates, his brain celebrated, affirming "this is your dream job," and righteousness took over.

At first he was excited, but it later faded. As the job dragged on, he ignored his soulful whispers clouded by his confirmation bias. He wasn't happy.

His hobby was art, and he no longer had time or passion for it. He was working long hours and exhausted by the weekend. His relationships suffered. And yet, his righteousness kept him at that job for years, convincing him over and over “this is your dream job.”

Whenever he cashed his fat paycheck, he'd smile for a few hours and reason, "I earned this." Whenever he got a pay raise for a loyal year, he'd pat himself on the back and reason, "I'm good at what I do." And whenever he heard there were thousands of college grads clamoring to have his job but none were available, he'd reason, "I'm lucky to have my job because thousands of others want it."

Meanwhile, his soul spoke differently: this isn't my dream job but a death wish. And his gagged heart would not be heard until he exposed his righteousness for the liar it was, showering him with righteous urges and confirmations that, "Yes, this is my dream job."

And the final blow from your righteousness comes as reinforcement for scripted thought.

Take for example the typical claptrap that rich people are selfish and greedy, their corporations are evil, and whatever else incites impulsive thinkers to soil their panties and tweet their fingers raw. If you own such notions, your brain will actively seek to confirm its rightfulness. Anytime a story of corporate malfeasance makes headlines, you're on Reddit, upvoting the post.

Look, Comcast treats their customers like shit! O.M.G, Verizon charged a ninety-two-year-old grandma 15 thousand dollars for data she didn't use! Likewise, anytime you read about a rich person who is suspected of (or caught in) nefarious activities, you're blowing up your social media accounts: George Soros is taking over the world! The Koch Brothers are behind it!

Look, I get it. This shit happens. There are greedy people managing and owning corporations. Just as there are greedy rich people, there are greedy poor people.

Rich people don't have a monopoly on greed or evilness—the human species does. The problem is whatever you want to see is what you will see.

Your reticular activating system and its confirmation biases (the psychological henchman that drives righteousness) will do the rest, delivering such evilness to your perceptual stage, while the reality remains backstage and hidden. Not only does your R.A.S confirm what it wants to see, but it overestimates its frequency and discards the rest. Your perception is not the reality.

Antithetical Apathy: Those Suffocating Shouldn't Hate Air

If financial freedom and autonomy are your goals, your beliefs must align with those goals. If they don't, you'll either (A) lie to yourself, or (B) sabotage your effort, causing tension and stress. Both make goals unobtainable.

In our example above regarding rich people, let's assume you rightfully believe wealthy folks are evil and greedy. And yet, you also want to be wealthy. See the problem? Do you aspire to be greedy? Or evil? Of course not.

But then how can wealth be a goal? The implication firing the subconscious strife is clear: To become wealthy, you must compromise something. Do you choose rich but evil? Or poor vet kind?

Two diametrically opposed beliefs are at war. This mental battle, antithetical apathy, happens when two contradicting values or beliefs, a tangle in our consciousness. The internal polarization causes apathy, stress, sabotage, or even intellectual dishonesty.

As such, the belief might cause you to abandon goals: “I don't want to turn into an evil capitalist dick!” It might cause unwarranted expectations: “Do I really want to compromise my morality to succeed in business?” Or the belief might justify unethical actions: “Everyone uses deceptive marketing, so I'll use it too.”

People who “fear success” usually have antithetical apathy; one part of them wants success while another part believes success has a compromising price tag crossing moral or ethical boundaries.

Similarly, the most common use of antithetical apathy is a dishonest excuse for change adversity.

In 2012, Maria Kang, “the fit mom,” Facebooked a buff picture of herself in skimpy exercise gear with the question, “What's Your Excuse?” As expected, an Internet firestorm ensued. Millions were offended, whining about being “fat-shamed.” Others rebutted with terse antithetical apathy crutches, such as “My children are too important” and “Spend some time with your kids.” The psychological pandering in these rebuttals is dissonance: to be healthy, you have to sacrifice your children or your motherhood. The implied deduction is even worse: any mother who is incredibly fit is a bad mom. Can you see why it's easy to have an excuse and maintain the status quo?

In the end, Ms. Kang was not advocating that moms need to be fitness models who live at the gym; she was advocating being healthy. For the offended, this message bounced, and it's easy to see why. When your brain is exposed to hidden truths that want to remain hidden, offense is taken and plausibly denied using antithetical apathy and polarized "binary" logic—I won't abandon my kids to live at a gym. And as another offended reader stated, "I'm not about to give up ice cream and cake," which exposes your real agenda: Feeding your sugar cravings is more important than your health. Yup, now I understand your anger; it's not about protecting your kids but about protecting your Häagen-Dazs. And if you're not healthy, how much quality time will you really be spending with your kids?

Nowadays, everyone is offended because everyone's brain is running wild.

If someone tells you, “I'm offended,” it usually means you've exposed a truth they want to keep denied. As Charles Bukowski once stated, “Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves...” Rest assured, my writing will offend some folks. And you know why they're offended? Because they know I'm talking about them—and they hate being called on their bullshit.

In the end, hating air while suffocating is foolish. Confront your antithetical crutches—or drop them altogether. Yeah, you can be moral and ethical and still be rich. You can be a fit, healthy mom and still love your children and spend time with them. Stop letting your brain run roughshod and instead think about how you think.

Semmelwashing: Unconventional Compels Conventional Reactions

In 1847, Dr. Ignaz Semmelweis made a legendary discovery in the field of medicine and obstetrics. He unconventionally proposed that washing your hands with a chlorinated lime solution would drastically reduce child-born fever, a common illness of the day. Think his peers showered him with rewards and accolades?

Unfortunately not.

Because Dr. Semmelweis's discovery conflicted with conventional medical knowledge, the mainstream medical community blasted his claim, rejecting it as bunk and hooy. While some dismissed the discovery (and the data) based on scientific reasoning, others spurned it because it was unconscionable to presume that an upper-class gentleman, a physician, would have untidy and unclean ebook3000 dot com hands.

Despite ridicule from his peers, Dr. Semmelweis stood convicted to his discovery for years. By opposing the consensus, eventually his colleagues branded him a whack job and banished him from practice. In 1865, Dr. Semmelweis was committed to an insane asylum where he'd die just weeks later, purportedly at the hands of asylum guards. While his committal circumstances were never verified (perhaps having your life's work disparaged?), his death went relatively unnoticed, if not celebrated by those who contemptibly viewed his discovery.

Several decades later, Louis Pasteur's medical breakthroughs in germ theory exonerated Dr. Semmelweis and proved his main hypothesis. Dr. Semmelweis's defiance toward convention marched him toward death, labeled as a pariah, but time now marks him as a legend. And like many legends, he has a university named on his behalf.

This renaissance story demonstrates the next bias you'll face on your unscripted path: Semmelwashing. However, Semmelwashing doesn't come from your mind; it comes from the hive mind of the mainstream. It's what happens when unconventional crashes into conventional. When traditional paradigms are opposed or questioned, not only is the message attacked but so is the messenger. A Semmelwashing is the friction we face when other people discover we aren't following the conventional scripted brainwash.

For them, you'll likely come across as unwashed, a rubber band needing a “snap back” to reality, namely their reality. For example, prepare for a Semmelwashing after telling your parents you'd rather skip college so you can remain debt-free. Prepare for a Semmelwashing after Facebooking that you've quit your job to pursue something impressively fulfilling instead of remaining depressively employed.

Prepare for a Semmelwashing when your trendy friends can't understand why you're driving a decade-old Camry while they drive new cars. Anytime you defy convention and stamp a path where few tread, expect oppositional foggings from ordinary people with a reeducation on what convention demands.

Unfortunately, like many pitfalls of the brain, Semmelwashing has no defense other than awareness and expectation. When you deviate from scripted paths, expect clashing, especially from those closest to you. Expect to be questioned and maybe labeled "crazy" or "eccentric." For example, this book and I are prime candidates for a Semmelwashing. O.M.G, did he just say compound interest is a scam? Is he advocating not going to college? The truth is anyone who's sold their soul to convention or earns their paycheck selling it won't shelf this book on the mantel. I expect these ideas to be skewered and burned at the stake by misquotes, misinterpretation, and whatever else can marginalize me or the message. Semmelwashing confirms your message's threat by those who have chosen to die by it. Stand resolute and your reward is not the pursuit of happiness, but happiness in your pursuits.

Podium Popping: Why Someone Else's Pen Can't Write Your Story

The “leaping syndrome” is coming. Years from now, thousands of people will mistakenly kill themselves “leaping for success.” How? Well, as the story goes, leapers jump from the roof of the city's tallest building. Seconds later, thunk. And instead of success, they find death.

If you're wondering what possibly compels rational people to commit irrational acts (without influence from narcotics or a zombie apocalypse), you'll have to trace the leaping syndrome back to its origins. Several years before the epidemic, Lonny Leaper climbs to the rooftop of his city's tallest building. A failed author, father, and husband, Lonny has given up on life. His rooftop mission is suicide. As he stands at the ledge contemplating, a crowd gathers on the ground. Onlookers stare, some plead, others record via their smartphone.

And then it happens: Lonny jumps. The spectators scream and scatter as if the foot of Godzilla approached.

Thud.

When the spectators hesitantly peek at the crash site, they see the unexpected.

Instead of a grisly bloodbath, they see Lonny sitting upright on his butt, alive and gripping his head in shock.

Miraculously, Lonny survives the forty-story fall. The crowd is mystified. His jump, recorded by several bystanders, hits the Internet and goes viral. His incredible fall is viewed over 500 million times. Lonny becomes an instant celebrity, rivaling Grumpy Cat and suddenly, his two failed novels go from obscurity to number one and number two on The New York Times best-seller list.

As it turns out, Lonny is actually a talented writer. For the years that follow, he goes on to write five more best sellers and rivals the success of J.K Rowling, becoming part of the billionaire authors club.

Unfortunately, the leaping epidemic grows wings after Lonny does a rare interview, his first in years, with one of the nation's top business websites. The billionaire is asked, "Lonny, what one piece of advice can you share with those struggling to succeed?"

Lonny pauses, sighs stoically, and without expression states, “Well, that's easy…jump off a building.” The rest is history…

Of course, the “leaping syndrome” is just hyperbole. However, it demonstrates the first psychological trap that arms our brains for complacency and plagues self-development: podium popping. Podium popping is the ineffective application of various success strategies cherry-picked from individuals who have a broadcast podium. Much like an addict pops pills, a podium popper will “pop” random bits of advice from famous personas spotlighted in the mainstream.

For example, millions of folks hero-worship Warren Buffett and roll out the red carpet for whatever musings dribble from his mouth. Warren Buffett says do this! Do that! Seriously, if I have to suffer another article about Warren Buffett, I'm going to pull out what remaining hair I have left. Just to give you an idea how ridiculous it is, I recently read an article about Warren Buffett's diet. According to the article, he “eats like a six-year-old” and consumes five cans of Coke a day. Great. Now we have a bunch of people who believe the secret to becoming a billionaire octogenarian is eating 200 grams of highly refined sugar every day. Well done, Warren. Next, we'll hear about how Warren shifts every day at 3 PM, which of course will be copied by his devoted followers, as if mimicking his toilet habits will help usher his success.

In our leaping-syndrome example, thousands of people hear that Billionaire Lonny succeeded because he jumped off a building, so they start doing it—ignoring the randomness of the event as well as the other fourteen million factors that attributed to the outcome.

Behind the podium-popping epidemic, you'll find another psychological sandpit—the narrative fallacy, popularized by Nassim Nicholas Taleb's best-selling book, The Black Swan. As we go through life, our brain connects seemingly random and meaningless pieces of data and transcribes them into narrative form. That structured story is then used to justify or predict cause and effect. The narrative fallacy attempts to make sense of unpredictable and hugely variable events, when in reality, there is very little, if any, causation. Specifically, it oversimplifies life processes that are anything but simple.

Podium popping grabs its narrative structure by grabbing random advice from random articles about random people and drawing the conclusions “That's why they're successful!” and “If I do what they do, I'll succeed just like them!” The narrative fallacy and its aftermath of podium poppers is probably the most ubiquitous form of bias. Hit your favorite entrepreneur website and it's all about feeding the poppers their pills…

The 14 Productivity Hacks of Elon Musk!

9 Life Tips from Steve Jobs

12 Super-Secrets of the Super-Rich!

While the above stories might have interesting and useful information, you're getting only a minor, fragmented story behind the success. How much? I'd say about 1 percent of it. And yet, because of the narrative fallacy, you will misattribute it to much more—30, 50, 70 percent—and the next thing you know, you're jumping off a rooftop.

I witness the narrative fallacy and receive “pill requests” practically every day at my inbox. Email after email, someone messages me asking for critical, life-altering advice, as if I know the right answer:

- Do I quit my job and start a business?

- Should I quit the military after five years?

- Do I drop out of college?

- My wife is the ultimate Slowlaner; do I divorce her?

- Do I wipe my ass with my left or right hand?

Let me get this straight...you want me, a stranger on the other side of the planet, to decide one of your most important life decisions based on a paragraph written in forty-five seconds? It's ridiculous, and vet it happens daily.

Podium popping's consequence is that it makes you think you can retreat someone's story into your own. It makes you think that because “X worked for him; X will work for me.” The first issue with this thought line is it disrespects time and circumstance.

For example, the specific steps I used to start a company twenty years ago are absolutely irrelevant today. Social media didn't exist. Neither did the phrase "two-sided marketplace."

I had to drag my butt down to the public library and find paying customers by scouring the nationwide Yellow Pages. Do Yellow Pages even exist anymore? Likewise, the strategies and tactics I used to start my business forum in 2007 would also be vastly different today. Publishing a book in 2010 versus 2016? Again, different. The point I'm making is this: You and I are in the same boat.

If I wanted to start and succeed with a new project, I would not be as advantaged as you think. New successes blaze new roads; they don't trail old ones.

Another problem with podium popping and the God-like worship of success tidbits is it presumes people are homo-jee-nee-us, when in fact, we're all unique based on countless variables: genetics, personalities, education, upbringing, experience, management style, leadership style, financial resources, network associates, and culture are just a few qualities that make cherry-picked strategy practically worthless.

I have tremendous respect for Steve Jobs's entrepreneurial accomplishments, and yet by many accounts, the guy was a first-class douchebag: parking his mur-say-dees in handicapped spots, humiliating employees, and throwing tantrums when he didn't get his way. Shall we presume any of these negative traits accounted for Jobs's iconic success? And if so, shall we now aspire for douchebagger, considering it might be responsible for a legendary company like Apple? I hope not.

We're all perfectly imperfect. Including our heroes. While doing X, Y, and Z might have worked for Jobs, it might not work for You. Every one of us needs to stop hero-worshipping mortal beings and be our own heroes.

Be a hero to your wife, to your family, and to your children. Stop trying to write your story with someone else's pen and, instead, start using your own.

Survival Spotlighting: Failures Keep Their Mouths Closed

Billionaire Lonny Leaper says the secret to success is jumping off a building. He's a living testament to that advice. And unfortunately, he's also a living testament to the next psychological trap you'll encounter on your journey: survival spotlighting.

Survival spotlighting, which is similar to podium popping, is when you focus on the survivors of some process because they're showcased, while overlooking those who are not, usually due to lack of visibility, and hence, you come to an inaccurate conclusion.

After Lonny dispenses his landmark advice, “Jump off a building,” thousands of people jump off buildings and die as a consequence. And since we can't hear from those who have leaped and died, the media reports them as suicides, and life goes on. However, if the dead could talk, they'd expose the truth: this is the worst advice ever voiced; success was my intent—not suicide.

This is how survival spotlighting works—a survivor of some process is rolled out to a stage and dispenses glorious survivor advice. What don't you hear about? Everyone else that follows the same advice and has failed at it, is failing, or will fail.

A lottery has millions of invisible losers, and yet, one winner rises to the podium and is photographed and congratulated. When your buddy wins in Vegas, he's bragging on Facebook; losses are sequestered and replaced with pictures of the Bellagio fountain instead.

Behind survival spotlighting is the logic error, the survivor bias. And like the life-or-death consequences of the leaper syndrome, the survivor bias discovery also has its origins in life-or-death circumstance.

During World War 2, Abraham Wald and his colleagues were commissioned by the government to study long-range bombers, a notoriously high-risk job for pilots of the day. Their sole task? Figure out how to keep more bombers and their pilots in the sky.

The research started with simple observation. After a bomber returned from enemy territory, it was examined for damage. Data were graphed for each surviving plane.

After a while, a pattern emerged. The common damage clusters always occurred in the tail-gunner area, the middle underbody, and the wings. Riddled with shrapnel and bullet holes, Wald's colleagues concluded that these were the most vulnerable parts of the plane and should be reinforced with extra armor.

Conversely, the front and rear undersides of the planes hosted little or no damage and, they reasoned, shouldn't be modified. Wald, a mathematician by trade, interrupted the groupthink and theorized the opposite. Can you see why?

Wald argued that the damage clusters exhibited strength—not weakness—revealing exactly where the bombers could be hit and still survive the flight home. He added further that the most vulnerable areas of the plane were where there was no damage—those areas needed reinforcement because planes exhibiting those damage clusters were blown out of the sky, not surviving the flight home. The Navy listened and reinforced the correct parts of the plane, more pilots survived, we won the war, and yes, the survivor bias was born.

Fast-forward seven decades and the survivor bias has not only survived but thrived.

Take for example the compound-interest scam described in Chapter 25. It's predicated on survival spotlighting. Millions play the Wall Street casino for wealth, and few live to enjoy it. Those who do are spotlighted and hero-worshipped on the front page of Yahoo Finance. Behind the miraculous tale, you find a Lonny Leaper: a lifetime employee who hasn't suffered a job crunch or unexpected layoff for forty years; a man who never dealt with a health crisis or an ugly divorce; a man who had foresight to "sell" in 1999 and 2008, and "buy" in 2002 and 2010; a man who hasn't vacationed or dined-out in decades. Yes, just a caged, experience starved existence barred by a job, a shack, and an obsessive relationship with money and a retirement date that may never come. In other words, you hear about a man whose epitaph shall read, "Here lies Bob: a man who lived poor but died rich."

Here's another tale proving compound interest's survivor bias: I recently read a story fronting Business Insider, which told the miraculous tale of a thirty-year-old millionaire who was currently succeeding the Slowlane via a deprivation-and-saving strategy. This article also mentioned my Fastlane strategy, implying that it was B.S because this poor guy was succeeding a Slowlane. This man also mentioned that his astonishing story was featured in The New York Times, on Business Insider, and in various other media outlets.

Duh, ya think?

These results are so rare, so miraculous, so “outlier” that they're newsworthy and belong in the pages of an international newspaper. However, you know what stories aren't featured in The New York Times?

Multimillionaire entrepreneurs who retire forty years early and live lavishly, not because of Wall Street, experiential starvation or mind-numbing frugality, but because they provided massive value. Hmm, maybe I should knickname myself “Money M.J” or “Dollar DeMarco”?

But these stories never make the front page of some financial website because it simply isn't unusual. Notably, a penny-pinching millionaire is newsworthy—an affluent entrepreneur living large is not—and such might incite the masses.

Behind the extraordinary survival stories are the walking wounded: the people who have been living Wall Street's fairy tale and are treading failure. That's Walter and Helen in Sun City, who lost half their retirement portfolio in the 2008 crash. Financial advisors told them, "Be patient—the markets will bounce back." Unfortunately, Walter and Helen don't have the luxury of patience; their story didn't make it into Kiplinger's but instead made Sun City Independent's back-page obituaries; they died early, "waiting" for the markets to bounce back. So much for that European cruise they wanted to take.

Then there's your average middle-class, middle-aged worker who's been saving diligently, but not enough, because the stinking job market hasn't given a competitive salary opportunity. Or the capital markets aren't yielding 10 percent as promised by Utopian Charts. For him, compound interest is a mortal impossibility unless he lives to 130 years old or starts making $500,000 a year. He'll never retire and will work until death. Where's his story?

In fact, where are all the baby-boomer millionaires and billionaires? If compound interest was so effective, those nearing retirement should be set for life! And yet, they're not.

According to Teresa Ghilarducci, a professor of economics at The New School for Social Research, 75 percent of Americans approaching retirement age in 2010 had less than 30,000 in their retirement accounts. Seventy-five freaking percent! This begs the question: If 75 percent can barely scrape up and invest 30 G's, how much do the other 25 percent have? Think they're all millionaires?

Of course not!

The median saved in this outlier group is a mere 55 thousand; the average amount is barely 110 thousand. Smell the smoking gun yet? This data disrobes the emperor: Survivors of compound interest and its ridiculous demands on savings and frugality are probably less than 1 percent. And yet the sky continues to rain leapers.

Momentum Paralysis: Why You Can't Move Despite Movement

Ever hear the phrase “throwing good money after bad”?

How about “only dead fish go with the flow”?

These statements best describe the next unscripted battle fought, momentum paralysis.

Momentum paralysis is not about immobility but being unable to depart from your current course of action. It is our tendency to allow momentum, or flow, to carry us through life rather than making proactive decisions, which are decidedly better for our future, even when those decisions have painful or uncomfortable attachments.

For example, several years ago, I read Fifty Shades of Grey, which probably ranks as one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Anyway, as an author, I was curious about the book. Seriously. With all the hype and hoopla, throwing women in a tizzy and banking millions, the book warranted an investigation. Several chapters into the book, I concluded a sulfuric acid bath would have been more pleasurable. Paragraph after paragraph, I found myself mimicking the Jackie Chan Internet meme, W.T.F. How many more times do I need to hear about Christian's gray eyes?

His tousled hair? And her juvenile reaction to it? And yet, despite the Fifty Shades of Literary Torture I was suffering, guess what? I finished the damn book.

As you can see, momentum paralysis keeps you attached to the same poor decision when the right decision is to stop, reverse course, or let it go. Behind our reversing inability is a fear of loss. In my Fifty Shades example, I continued reading because I didn't want to feel I wasted two hours of my time. So I wasted three more thinking it would get better. I also continued reading because of fomo I didn't want to miss out. Was there literary genius lurking later in the book? A shocking plot curve curing its ills and explaining its Louvre-worthy reverence? Unfortunately, redemption never came—just more tousled hair and piercing gray eyes.

Momentum paralysis is why people lose fortunes in the stock market.

When you pay one hundred dollars for some hot stock shares, say eToys dot com, and then it drops to eighty dollars, oh no, you can't be wrong, can you!? So you buy more at eighty dollars. Then it goes to fifty dollars and, yet again, you buy more. And then you repeat this insanity all the way to zero. Behind your rationale was not stubbornness but righteousness and your desire not to miss the great gains that surely will be forthcoming.

Are you in a soul-destroying relationship that needs to end? Momentum paralysis will keep you in it until you address the paralysis and the illogical excuses that keep you there.

- I'm great friends with his sister.

- I love his child.

- O.M.G, the thought of being single and dating again scares me.

Whatever the rationale, it compels unchanging and continuing displeasing momentum. And the longer it goes on, the harder the momentum is to break. And then the excuse becomes, “But we've been together for twelve years!”

The cognitive machinations behind momentum paralysis is a sunk-cost fallacy. Sunk costs are time or money investments that cannot be recovered. These costs, and the perceived pain of acknowledging their loss, are what keep you doing shit you shouldn't be doing.

For example, let's say you tragically followed the advice, "Do what you love," and opened a restaurant in your city's historic district. After six years and multiple business repositions and marketing initiatives, it's clear: Your eatery is barely profitable, earning your time a net of six dollars per hour on a seven-day, eighty-four-hour workweek. But yeah, you're "doing what you love," right? So is it time to quit and do something else?

Logically, yes. But momentum paralysis says no. It says, "Hang on," and then unabashedly reminds you of the sunk costs: Remember that long fight with city hall to get this location? Remember how hard it was hiring Chef Chavez, one of the city's best chefs? Remember winning the Daily Gazette's "Best New Restaurant” title six years ago? All of these memories, the sunk costs, keep you grinding a grind that should no longer be grinded.

In Chapter 40, we explore the business side of this quitting decision, but on the mind's side, momentum paralysis keeps you chained to your past while wasting away your future. This is important, especially for new entrepreneurs, because multiple failures precedes success. If momentum paralysis causes your first entrepreneurial failure to stew for ten years, you're going to run out of life.

Momentum paralysis and sunk costs are also why aspiring entrepreneurs stay aspiring. On my forum, there are several medical doctors who are tired of medicine and its domination by insurance companies and government regulation. By day, they manage emergency rooms.

By night, they're building businesses. In my chats with these professionals, I can see their greatest challenge won't be business struggles but letting go of sunk costs associated with medicine.

Our past decisions have deeply etched emotional attachments. And the greater those emotional attachments are—years of schooling, training, residency—the harder abandonment becomes, hence not choosing what's best for the future but instead desiring to not see your past investment wasted.

In the end, momentum paralysis is an illogical reaction to loss aversion. Again, thinking how you think gives you the logic to diffuse emotions stoking the fires. If you had to walk twenty miles to see your favorite musician, and during your walk's thirteenth mile discovered the concert was next week, would you walk the next seven miles?

Or would you logically admit the mistake and turn around? Of course you would, but inertial paralysis keeps us walking toward an empty venue. What empty outcomes are you walking toward?

Chapter 27 Bullshit From Bullshitters: Crutches, Clichés, and Cults

The Three Orders of Bullshit

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with motion lines positioned beneath the feet. The image suggests a state of celebration, victory, or jumping for joy.

Dpend any time at the gym and you're probably familiar with the guy who skips leg day. The "skip-leg-day" guy is the waist-up muscular dude who has toothpicks for legs. Of course, these guys don't skip their leg workouts periodically; they skip them entirely.

Instead, their gym focus is tight-shirt aesthetics: arms, chest, shoulders—visible assets attracting the ladies' eyes. Confront "skip-leg-day" dude about why he doesn't press or squat and he'll say some bullshit like this:

- I have bad knees.

- Both my ankles are shot.

How do I know? L.O.L. Because I was once that bullshitter. And yeah, those were my excuses. Thanks to basketball injuries and a motorcycle accident, both excuses had slivers of truth. However, both were straw-man excuses: superficial justifications I grasped while avoiding squat rack pain. This story exemplifies the next B among the 3 B's: bullshit.

Bullshit 1.0 is crutches: the stinking pile of excuses and manufactured fairy tales we tell ourselves. These scapegoats justify do-nothingness. Other times, they explain away failures or circumstances. And as long as we clutch these convenient fantasies, change adversity and righteousness bribe us into buying our victimhood.

Bullshit 2.0 is clichés: a bunch of meaningless mantras and proverbs revered as gospel; pithy slogans, sweet and soothing, reassuring, and unfortunately, invitations for more do-nothingness.

And Bullshit 3.0 is cults and their leaders: gurus and slithery figureheads who will fill your head with whatever you want it filled with.

Bullshit 1.0 Crutches: Your Cerebral Dogma

The bullshit dwelling in our heads is what I call cerebral dogma—a mental menagerie of crutches and specious vignettes that insulate our egos and protect us from doing what's uncomfortable. As you can see in my crusade against the squat rack, cerebral dogma is an equal opportunity employer.

However, behind the cerebral dogma neuroscientists found a much larger story woven. An internal story of self, identity, and reason. An internal story upon which we cling, a mental framework that guides us, protects us, and helps us organize and map a chaotic world—your narrative bias.

Whereas the narrative fallacy storyboards random data and events for other people, your narrative bias storyboards yours. Your narrative bias parts your identity and glues the construction of self. It's how you make sense of the world, even if that sense is based on a lie. The negative or inaccurate part of your narrative bias is your cerebral dogma, the thought snippets skewing truth, clouding reality, and routinely excusing action. And like other scripted fibbery, your cerebral dogma acts like a protective mother, insulating egos from the harsh realities of harsh truths.

See that young guy driving an expensive supercar? Your cerebral dogma argues, “Meh, spoiled trust-fund brat” or “Lucky”. This explains away your failures and spares your ego a confrontation with lurking truths. Many times that narrative is a momentous lie constructed from a filament of truth. Yes, my ankles are about as reliable as a '72 Pinto. But no, they wouldn't really prevent me from pressing a rack.

Other times, your cerebral dogma exposes itself as a self-defeating soundtrack, an inner monologue constantly reminding you about your weaknesses, your dire circumstances, and your failings. For example, commit to Unscript and expect your cerebral dogma to fire up the Rolodex of excuses...

- You don't have any money.

- You don't have the right skills.

- You are too old.

- You are too young.

- You live in the wrong neighborhood.

- You are too ugly.

- You have a family to support.

- You don't have the right degree.

- You don't know the right people.

- You know it's too hard.

- You know your job keeps you too busy.

- Excuse 93, 94, 95...

In other instances, cerebral dogma honors our self-immolated sacred cows—short, succinct statements regarded as solid obstructions when they're anything but. Things like:

- Oh, I hate living in Chicago, but we can't move—my family is here.

- We go on vacation every year—finances can't stop our family tradition.

- The best jobs are in Silicon Valley—good tech jobs don't exist elsewhere.

And because your sacred cows are regarded as fact, you're excused from the dinner table. Inaction, mediocrity, failure—there's a good reason for all of it! Legs? Hell no, my ankles are shot!

Like a crutch, cerebral dogma props up your ego and your biases: righteousness, antithetical apathy, change adversity, and the rest. Like a little devil perched on your shoulder, your narrative dogma advocates for the status quo. Until we start surveilling our thoughts, our brain risks remaining feral and unfit to command the troops.

Bullshit 2.0 Scriptspeak and Frankenphrases

Beware of juicy mantras and clever platitudes shoring up mediocrity. Bullshit 2.0 is the syrupy scriptspeak everyone loves to repeat but no one interrogates. And No to critique means yes to bullshit. Many of these dictums shine your glass house while seeding its lawn with do-nothingness. Yes, more change adversity and antithetical apathy.

Anytime you accept scriptspeak as an incontrovertible statement, you risk allowing that cliché to distort the process-principle, hence distorting results. Here are some popular ones not limited to business:

- Fat makes you fat.

- These SuperSnacker Cookies are fat-free, so I just ate ten! I'm sure my metabolic syndrome won't be impacted by all the sugar I just ate!

- It takes money to make money.

- I'm broke and will always be broke. No sense fighting a battle that can't be won.

- Good things come to those who wait.

- I'm just gonna sit here and twiddle my thumbs while waiting for “good things.” Maybe when it finds me it will have a $100,000 check.

- Better safe than sorry.

- I know I'll eventually find a zero risk opportunity some where. Until then, I'll play it safe.

- Eighty percent of success is just showing up.

- Once I graduate and get my degree in gender studies, employers will hire me because I'm a good person with a good degree. I'm confident I'll make at least 250 thousand dollars per year.

- It's not what you know but who.

- Success is knowing the right people, so why bother improving my skills? I'm just going to email Jeff Bezos and see if he is willing to mentor me. I'm sure he'll welcome me into his inner circle.

- Money doesn't buy happiness.

- I can be happy being broke (aside from the money fights with my wife); besides, there's no way I'm going to turn into one of those rich pricks!

Let's talk about my favorite B.S scriptspeak: "Money doesn't buy happiness."

Whenever someone shoves this turd in your face, get ready for some real laughs. I've been broke and rich, and let me tell you, the comparison is like canned Spam to five-star steakhouse Kobe. No matter what study or academic research concludes, there's no truth to “money doesn't buy happiness” because the studies never account for *how* the money is used. Is it used to consume? Or is it used to maximize freedom within our free-range cage?

Take for instance this old folktale floating around the web. It's an idealistic sap story implying that money doesn't buy happiness. It goes like this...

An American businessman stood at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish.

“How long did it take to catch them?” the American asked.

"Only a bit," the Mexican replied.

"Why don't you stay out longer and catch more fish?" the American then asked.

“I have enough to support my family's immediate needs,” the Mexican said.

"But," the American then asked, "what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, take evening strolls to the village, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senhor." The American scoffed, "I have a Harvard M.B.A, and I could help you. You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds, you buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats.

Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you could sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control everything.

You would need to leave your small village and move to the big city to manage your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But señor, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, "Ten to fifteen years."

"But what then, señor?"

The American laughed and said, "Well, that's the best part. When the time is right, you would sell your company and become very rich; you would make millions."

“Millions, señor? Then what?”

The American said slowly, “Then you would retire, move to a small coastal fishing village, where you would sleep late, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, take evenings strolls to the village, where you could sip wine and play guitar with your amigos…”

The reasonable moral to the story is “Money doesn't buy happiness.” Except you didn't hear the rest of the story…the one that isn't shared. Here it is:

Soon after the American left, things changed. The government, desperate for tax dollars, levied a series of boating, gaming, and license fees: To continue fishing, the Mexican must pay 400 dollars for a fishing license, a 200 dollar environmental fee, a 350 dollar game endorsement, and 1,800 dollars in mooring fees. If he doesn't pay asap, the Mexican will be barred from fishing.

Unfortunately, after paying all the fees, the Mexican has little money left to insure and license his boat. Unable to legally operate at his favorite coastal town, the Mexican fisherman drives three hours south to another town, where the quality of the fish is poor. The long drive takes its toll on the Mexican's car, where it ultimately breaks down. In order to fix his car, he needs $200 for a water pump and $400 for a radiator. This is after he pays $600 to get his car towed back to his village.

But this story is about to get worse. When the Mexican fails to pay the mooring fees to the harbor master, he loses his boat. The Mexican fisherman who spent most of his days in a state of unpreparedness and merriment—strumming around with his friends, sipping wine—is now unable to support his family.

His wife divorces him. The Mexican now sings a different tune with his amigos ... something along the lines of “Money can buy happiness.”

Which one of these stories sounds more realistic? In both stories, the Mexican has the same goal: freedom with his friends and family. That's worthy. Unfortunately, when money is removed from a real-world existence, idealism turns into a nightmare—a repeated reality found in every civilized country worldwide: bills, fees, taxes, life overhead, and money problems.

The problem isn't the Mexican's goal—freedom; the problem is he was lazy and disrespected money's role. He didn't save, prepare, or produce in excess of consumption. Money buys happiness when you let it buy your freedom.

When Frankenstein Talks, He Speaks Frankenphrases

Entrepreneurship is also rife with clichés and “mantras du-jour,” which I call “frankenphrases.” Frankenphrases, synonymous with the famous zombie Frankenstein, turn aspiring entrepreneurs into parroting windbags. Frankenphrases are buzzy buzzwords that enter the business vernacular, from “fail fast” or “agile” to “lean” to “start-up” to even my own ideology: Fastlane.

The problem with frankenphrases is they can become obstacles to effective process. Now I'm not suggesting that these phrases are without merit; the issue is when entrepreneurs parrot these phrases and don't know what they mean. I see this happen at my forum, which isn't immune to either cerebral dogma or frankenphrases.

“Is this Fastlane?” has been asked on my forum about ten gazillion times in the last seven years. Fastlane? Do you even know what that means? Have you read the 300-plus-page book? Do you know the five commandments? No. No. And no. But hey, it sounds like it can make me rich fast, right?

Here's another scenario repeated just about every week. Let me give you the CliffsNotes: I just spent ten dollars at Facebook to funnel traffic to a landing page I spent ninety seconds creating to advertise a product I found after ten minutes of searching at Alibaba. I have a zero conversion rate, a 100 percent bounce rate, and average visitor time of 3 seconds...should I "fail fast" and try something else?

And then there's my favorite: the word "start-up," which apparently is now ubiquitous for everything not involving a job. Let me get this straight: You send exploding glitter in the mail? Start-up. Lemonade stand? Start-up. Installed WordPress and bought a $29 dollar theme? Wow, you've got yourself a "start-up." Unfortunately, calling your venture a "start-up" puts you no closer to your first customer, your first dollar of revenue, or your first conversion any more than driving through Bel Air and calling yourself "The Fresh Prince."

The point of my rant is to stop with the damn frankenphrases. Stop asking if something is “Fastlane” or a “start-up” or “lean,” and start asking what needs to be done to win your first customer.

Bullshit 3.0 Cults: Beware of Gurus Bearing Gifts

Whatever you want to believe, there's a guru cult out there helping you believe it. And most of it is bullshit.

Want to believe in shortcuts? There's a shortcut-and-loopholes guru who will tell you all the secret special "hacks" to accomplish anything while bypassing the difficult steps.

Want to get rich sitting at the Wall Street craps table for fifty years? There's a legion of gurus who, for a commission, are willing to steer you into the right hedge fund, the right mutual fund, or the right E.T.F.

Want to believe “do what you love” is the secret to life? There are gurus for that too, people who claim to “do what they love” while selling “do what you love.” Interesting.

And my favorite—if you want to learn how to perfect masterful sales funnels so you can upsell a bunch of worthless P.D.F's, secret reports, and antiquated marketing strategies to the same fools over and over, there's a pack of gurus for that as well.

In my first book, I affectionately called myself an “anti-guru,” and while that cantankerous position might label me a “hater,” I'm not hating; I'm cautioning. My issue with most gurus is something I addressed in my first book: the paradox of practice.

The paradox of practice is the art of selling a strategy that the author doesn't really use or that isn't responsible for making him rich. It's not practicing what you preach. It's selling real-estate books but you don't own any real estate.

It's selling entrepreneurship but you never built anything profitable. It's selling fitness but you're flabby. It's selling a get-rich book but, well, you're not rich.

A member of my forum once complained in a thread, “All guru books are a road to nowhere.” Of course I interjected and responded, “I disagree.” All guru books are a road into their sales funnel. Earlier I ebook3000 dot com mentioned Tony Robbins and how he lost my fandom. His latest book was rife with duplicity and practice paradoxes. When did Mr. Robbins morph from motivational speaker to a compound-interest skill? Is that why he's achieved the 1 percent among the 1 percent? Does the switcheroo have something to do with a back-end sales funnel and potentially herding readers into “recommended” firms where his involvement and monetary association could be suspiciously questioned? Obviously, Tony and I won't be doing any podcasts soon.

Anyhow, when it comes to gurus, and even public figures, ask yourself, is this person genuine and speaking from the heart? Or speaking from the cash register? Is he famously wealthy from his advice where what he says equals what he does? The only true test to guru believability is this: authenticity.

Authenticity is congruence. Truth over lies. Practicing what you preach. Authenticity is writing a book to change lives, not trip-wiring your unsuspecting reader into big-ticket seminars, commissioned financial products, or coaching programs.

Authenticity is not a hidden agenda. Authenticity is speaking the truth and not caring about whom you might offend and how it impacts your book sales.

I've been critical of Warren Buffett, and that's not to impugn his mega-success. My challenge is authenticity. In my opinion, he portrays himself as a retail stock picker, as if he buys stock like you and I while slurping his fifth Coke of the day. The truth behind his fortune isn't buy-and-hold and value investing but value creation and enhancement through entrepreneurship.

In reality, Warren's billionaire status has nothing to do with buying stocks like Iggy Investor and everything to do with business building and shareholder activism. Warren is the ultimate producer who can move markets with the mere mention of new equity investment. And when the scripted stock picker walks into the casino and invests in this system, it keeps that system churning with new money, and hopefully, bigger share prices.

So the next time you're lapdogging the next salacious piece of advice from your saluted hero, ask yourself, is it authentic? Is it truespeak from the heart or doublespeak from the wallet?

As you know, I don't recommend network marketing or patronize their bots. I lose thousands of dollars in book sales because of this authenticity. And blasting the mainstream's sacred cow, compound interest?

Yeah, that's not going to endear me to the financial world, and it certainly won't sell this book either. That's the price of authenticity. So before you kneel before Zod and salute the next guru walking the plank of sanctimony, consider this: the best gurus aren't gurus at all.

Shark Tanker Kevin O'Leary, known for his vitriolic outspokenness, isn't interested in protecting your feelings when he posits your crappy invention sucks. When he spouts off, "You're insane," because you think $10,000 in revenue equates to a $10 million valuation, he's not aiming for political correctness. He's authentic. And authenticity is the only true test of gurudom, whether the individual knows it or not. When Kevin O'Leary gives advice, I know I'm not being greased for a sales funnel or a back-end agenda. When Peter Thiel speaks or writes a book, I listen because I hear authenticity—I know he isn't at the Hilton Garden Inn hosting $10,000 seminars for "silver-bullet" entrepreneurs who are urged to "act now, grab your credit card, and run to the back of the room."

Burying Bullshit: Three Bulldozers

Technique #1: Socratic Questioning

Burying bullshit requires hard questioning. If you want to weaken the scripted O.S, call yourself out. The key to having an effective “account” is Socratic questioning. Socratic questioning is a disciplined inquiry into trains of thought. By looking into the depths of these trains, biases, assumptions, and possible blocks of progress are uncovered.

Take this example: You see a young man driving a supercar and automatically label him a trust-fund brat. Socratic questioning looks like this:

- Why did you conclude the driver is a trust-fund brat?

- Because he's young, and young guys can't afford stuff like that.

- Do you have evidence supporting this conclusion? No, but one guy I know drives a B.M.W 3 Series which he got for his birthday.

- Is this direct evidence in this circumstance? A fact? No, I guess not.

- If your thought was proven false and the young man was actually self-made, how would that make you feel? Then I'd guess I'd feel inadequate, even jealous.

- Why do you think you feel that way?

- Probably because I haven't done much with my life and I still live at home with my parents.

- Why would you feel like that? Is it justified?

- Pretty much, I play a lot of video games and haven't found a good job. The last time I read a book was To Kill a Mockingbird in high school.

- What's the effect of thinking or believing your assumption? I guess it gives me a good reason to keep doing what I'm doing and feel okay with it.

- What could change if you no longer held this assumption?" That anything is possible, even for me. Well, assuming I work hard and get some luck too.

- Ahhh luck...let's talk about that...

Socratic questioning drills into mental roadblocks. It probes assumptions and demands evidence. When you dig deep into underlying positions and are honest about your thoughts, you'll find (once again) that your brain is protecting your narrative bias, which protects your ego or a status quo.

How would eliminating the belief, or reversing it, set a different course? Changing your head means throwing on your Perry Mason hat, whipping out the Marlboros, and putting your brain in the interrogation chair.

Technique #2: The Cancer Corollary

C-A-N-C-E-R.

Cancer. Quite possibly the most powerful word in the English language.

From a doctor, it's the most devastating thing you'll hear. From a loved one, it marks the starting line of the most harrowing emotional journey one can face. And I pray you're spared from both scenarios.

However, if cancer ever had a shred of positivity to it, here it is: It's called the cancer corollary. The cancer corollary is a hypothetical syllogism that exposes cerebral bullshit and eradicates it. Used willfully, it kills paper crutches and dartboarded excuses. Anytime your cerebral dogma mouths off and argues you're too young, too old, too poor, too this, and too that, the cancer corollary breaks the pattern.

I apologize for the suggestion, but it works like this: Hypothetically assume you've been diagnosed with cancer and your mortality has been redefined from decades to months. Also assume a cancer cure exists. The cure, formulated by one individual named Joe Blow, is just $5,000. And you aim to buy it.

Now consider this. Before opening your wallet and giving your cash to Joe Blow, will you consider (or ask about) any of Joe Blow's personal characteristics or motives before buying?

For example, what if you learned that Joe was just nineteen years old? Would you still want the cure? How about eighty-three years old? What if Joe was the ugliest guy on the planet, with a broomstick for a leg and breath so bad that he could offend a skunk? Still want the cure? What if Joe failed gym class in high school, didn't have a college degree, and hated every moment while creating his cure? Still interested in saving your life? What if you learned that Joe was a gay atheist who had fifteen bucks in his checking account, owned a gun, was a member of Greenpeace, and voted Republican? Still want to buy the cure?

As you can see, when someone has what you desperately want or need, their backstory becomes irrelevant. And this is relevant because it proves that race, education, divorce, marriage, ugliness, this, that, all are self-funded delusions. The fact is when you have what others want, no one cares about your circumstances, your whys, your motives, your degree, your history, your anything! Money's velocity is driven by one simple question: do you have something I want, and if so, what will it cost me?

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Politics are the only thing that can poison consumer buying decisions turning buyers into boycotters. The more urgent the need/want, the stronger the defense.

Technique #3: Identity Cataclysms

My mother smoked cigarettes most of her youth. She tried quitting for years and couldn't shake the habit. Then one day she saw a television P.S.A that showed the blackened, charred lungs of a chronic smoker.

At the time, she was pregnant with me and the sight of the cauterized lung mortified her. Was this what I was doing to my lungs? And what about my unborn child? Instantly, everything changed and her identity shifted.

In that moment, she went from a “smoker trying to quit” to a “nonsmoker.” Mom never touched a cigarette again, and as she recalls, it was an easy quit.

You see, when your identity shifts from what you want to be to what You are, your actions will fight to maintain the identity. If someone offers me a cigarette, I don't ponder the question; the answer is an instinctive and immediate “No thanks because my identity is “I am a nonsmoker.” The truth is, most books (including this one) are ineffective change agents because readers rely on willpower to drive action. Willpower and motivation have been proven ineffective as depleting resources. They rarely work at creating habits, the agents of permanent change.

Real change comes from identity and self—not from interim motivations jump-started by books or YouTube binging. Basically, you have to be what you want to become First so the actions can follow. Don't talk about it; be about it. be. act on being. Then have.

For example, if you're in the "aspiring entrepreneur" category, it's most likely because your identity is not consecrated as an entrepreneur, but instead something like "I'm an Intel employee, and I would love to quit my job someday and start a business." You're not a nonsmoker who's experienced a shift cataclysm; you're simply a smoker trying to quit and, unfortunately, will probably be for life.

When you identify as an entrepreneur, you will do whatever it takes to quit your job and succeed as one because your identity seeks congruence. Identified as an “employee looking to quit,” and your identity is congruent with the status quo—you won't do what's necessary, and instead, actions become convenient and trivial.

My identity shifted when I saw a Lamborghini as a teenager. From that day my identity was 100 percent entrepreneur, keeping me tracked forward even though my actions weren't always entrepreneurial. Debt and five years of corporate grooming at college can do that. To keep the boats floated and the dream alive, I worked menial jobs better suited for a high-school dropout, not a dual-degree college grad who tossed his cap with honors. It took me over ten years before my identity as an entrepreneur (be, followed by act) matched my results (have). That's the power of identity.

How you see yourself makes or breaks the foundation you work with—the sturdy ground of this is me or the motionless treadmill of this might be me.

So how do you change your identity?

First, identify what you want to be and label yourself as such. Unfortunately, this isn't easy unless it's attached to an emotional episode, a shift cataclysm, which also can double as your "fuck this" event. For me, it was a white Lamborghini—for my mom, a scarred lung; for you, perhaps it's the boss taking credit for your work. Whatever it is, allow your emotions to do the shifting.

Second, reinforce and ratify your identity by taking regular action, no matter how small. If your new identity is someone who's decisively decided to be healthy after a stroke, a small action might be “no thanks” to happy-hour pizza.

Unfortunately, unlike my mom's identity shift causing her to go cold turkey with immediate 100 percent compliance, such isn't likely. Instead, aim for the daily action and improvement found within the process-principle. James Clear, author of Transform Your Habits (recommended read) says "prove your identity" daily. This happens with small wins and minor improvements.

If your new identity is “I am an author,” write a few paragraphs a day. Build on your prior effort, where the net effect is an upswing. As I mentioned in the process-principle, once feedback echoes pour in, congratulations. That's when things get easier, habits dig in, and others take notice. A 1 percent daily evidentiary shift for one year will transform you into a new person, to the point you wouldn't recognize your current self.

Entrepreneurship Lives or Dies in Your Head

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of entrepreneurship live and die in your head—reversing beliefs, unbinding biases, and confronting bullshit. An autopiloted brain, which isn't trained to think how it thinks, will find their unscripted effort likened to an hour at the casino—short and not sweet. Entrepreneurship is a tough but rewarding sport.

But it must be lived, not tried. Master the 3 B's and congratulations; shift your tassel and graduate into the heart of the unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework, the first circle (M.P) where happiness is unearthed...

Meaning and purpose.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram illustrating a theoretical framework. It depicts the intersection of several key components including Meaning-and-Purpose, Functional Expertise, Knowledge Expertise, and specific dimensions labeled as 4D and 3B, all situated between the states of Unscripted and The FTE. The diagram suggests that Meaning-and-Purpose serves as a central hub where various forms of expertise and dimensional factors converge. It can be inferred that the framework posits a synergistic relationship where the alignment of purpose with both practical and theoretical knowledge leads to an unscripted entrepreneurial outcome.

Chapter 28 Meaning-and-Purpose: The Unstoppable Will to Win

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines positioned beneath the feet. The figure's posture and the motion lines suggest a state of celebration or victory following a jump.

There is one quality which one must possess to win, and that is definiteness of purpose, the knowledge of what one wants, and a burning desire to possess it.

-Napoleon Hill, Writer

The Motivation Cycle: How to Accomplish Great Things

Great results require a great commitment. Commitment fires the process-principle where habits become lifestyle and lifestyle becomes winning results.

When everyone sleeps, the ballerina is at the studio practicing. When everyone orders pizza, the fitness competitor orders salad. When everyone parties like it's 1999, the inventor locks himself in his basement and grinds his idea.

So where does this kind of commitment come from?

Not from willpower or motivational videos.

If commitment had a spark plug, it would be meaningful—and—purpose—the core reasons Why you act and continue to act, even through hardship, criticism, failure, and seemingly impossible odds.

Like a Kevlar vest, meaning-and-purpose is an “I don't give a crap” attitude toward the YouTube comment trolls who called your latest video stupid. It yanks you to the stage to speak when you're scared shitless. It's your latest business venture despite the nonbelievers in your family who say you're nuts, often citing your nine earlier failures.

Meaning-and-purpose is the fuel that powers the motivation cycle—the heat that churns your soul, torpedoing you forward when others crawl back to bed.

As we ascend into the unscripted framework, your meaning-and-purpose and its motivation cycle are the catalyst to act, persist, and win. While rewritten 3 B's inspire starting, your meaning-and-purpose and its motivation cycle inspire finishing.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual flow chart illustrating the motivation cycle. It maps the relationship between an individual's purpose, their actions, and the resulting feedback loop that influences their identity and passion. The diagram shows that a driving purpose leads to action, which then enters a value loop of feedback and results. Positive feedback reinforces passion and shapes beliefs and identity, which in turn fuel further action. Conversely, a lack of feedback leads to silence and eventual cessation of effort.

The Why: Your Core Driver

One can never underestimate the power of a moment. For me, it was a seemingly insignificant conversation. My memory, however, would prove otherwise. I stood in the fraternity hallway talking to three of my brothers. It was just days from graduation, and my friends and I were discussing their post-graduation jobs.

When I disclosed my future employment, which was nil, I confessed: I didn't job interview because I'm an entrepreneur. (Notice my identity!) One of my fraternity brothers snickered and with smug impunity said, "Yeah, I'm sure that's going to work out for you." He then crowed about getting hired at some entry-level accounting job from a "big-three" firm, braggadociously predicting that within a few years, he'd be earning a six-figure paycheck. I, with equal smugness, retorted, "That's awesome; maybe someday I'll hire you."

This conversation lasted minutes. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, it seared my mind. It was something I'd remember and think about often. It fired me up, pissed me off, and deepened my convictions. While I never saw this frat guy again, his belittling comment served me for years and ignited one of my many whys—the specific motivations behind passionate action.

Aside from my pompous frat brother, here was my list of why's:

- I hated suits, and the thought of wearing one was unbearable.

- I wanted to own a Lamborghini.

- I wanted to ease the burden for my single mother.

I wanted to retire early and write a book about retiring early. (L.O.L)

✓ I didn't want “money problems” to potentially damage a marriage.

Whatever your why's, they must be strong enough to incite action that borders on the obsessive. What “whys” will compel you to work on a Saturday night while your bros are partying? What “whys” will compel you to drive the 160,000-mile Honda when your wingman drives a new Camaro? And are these “whys” hot enough to steam water when things go cold? Fiery why's overpower expiring willpower and fizzling passion.

Lukewarm why's translate into neither meaning nor purpose, but action-faking. Without solid why's, effort sinks in the first storm.

For example, the most common storm new entrepreneurs face is called the desert of desertion. The desert of desertion is the duration from idea to your first sale. It is the absence of the feedback loop in the motivation-cycle (and within the process-principle) and it could go on for months, perhaps years. In one instance, an entrepreneur at my forum designed his own luxury brand of sunglasses. From idea to creation to first sale was nearly two years.

This two years of high activity and zero feedback is the arid desert. Without reinforcement, quitting becomes easy. Too easy. Life gets in the way: your job, the kids, or the lure of the next hot opportunity.

Without outside confirmations, it's easy to rationalize greener pastures: “Eh, this isn't going to work” or “No one is going to buy this” or “There has to be something easier.”

Meaning-and-purpose is the camel you want in this desert—not willpower.

Another storm meaning-and-purpose overcomes is pain and ridicule.

Several years ago, a young man posted a forum proclamation that he would be a millionaire by twenty-five. Unfortunately, his lengthy declaration lacked substance, and the forum denizens ridiculed him. However, as the years passed and the failure crystallized, I noticed something: Despite public ridicule, this entrepreneur was persistent, highly visible, trying various different things, and overall, saturating the world with his effort. Suddenly, he didn't seem like an average drive-by looking to get rich.

When I reread his original post (now a few years old), something slipped my eye on the first skim: He said his purpose was to free his mother from poverty. Instantly, I became a believer. Even though he failed, and might fail again, eventually he'll strike gold. The mountaintop shall be his because he's backpacked a great Why buttressed by meaning-and-purpose—a weapon capable of slaying forum skeptics and "you're crazy" doomsayers.

As you can see, I have a love/hate relationship with my forum. For over eight years, I've observed entrepreneurs (and failed entrepreneurs) from the bleachers. I love that I can occasionally take the field and make a difference. And I hate that no matter how much I try, there's always an entrepreneurial stampede thinking that extraordinary results can be wrangled with an ordinary effort. The world has no shortage of people seeking lounge-chair, remote-control success—they want all that life has to offer—just as long as it comes in comfortable harmony.

This young man striving to save his mother from poverty? He's a force-packing Jedi Knight among a legion of soulless stormtroopers.

Unfortunately, entrepreneurship, along with life and liberty, is a tale of periodic pain now or perpetual regret later. Namely, how bad do you want it? How much are you willing to give up for it?

Everyone wants the perfect wife, but few want to work toward becoming the perfect husband. Everyone wants the Muscle & Fitness cover body, but few want to work daily followed by “no thanks” to break-room pizza. Everyone wants the big bank account and the passive-income business, but few want the risk, the long hours, or the unpredictable income.

Without sufficient why's, you're no better than everyone, and “everyone” is not an echelon for aspiration. To be someone, you can't be driven like everyone.

In fact, it's not uncommon for elderly retirees, lifelong employees who finally retire, to die shortly thereafter. Without their job and a sense of contribution, they lose their meaning-and-purpose. Without a purpose obsessively cored as identity, you won't survive. When sifting through life's jungle, you want a sharpened scythe to break through the weeds—meaning-and-purpose are its grinding stone.

Chapter 29 Beware! The Wonder Twins of Epicly Bad Life Advice

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet to indicate upward motion. The image conveys a sense of victory, success, or achievement, as the figure appears to be jumping or leaping in celebration.

Fool's Gold: “Do What You Love” and “Follow Your Passion”

In 2005, Steve Jobs gave a legendary commencement speech at Stanford University. He echoed over and over, “Love what you do.” The now-famous statement has morphed into its syrupy cousin, “Do what you love.” And every time I hear it, I lose another millimeter off my molars.

Jobs's universally accepted maxim exemplifies just how impervious a misinterpreted sound bite can become when eulogized literally—unite podium popping and survival spotlighting and, wham, you get horrific life advice incontrovertibly ordained. And suddenly, hordes of people are jumping off buildings.

But wait, there's more.

“Do what you love” also has a twin: the pithy proverb “Follow your passion.”

Again, another perilous dose of direction, usually dispensed by unknown bloggers with unknown track records who unknowingly don't know the theology is hogwash.

Put 'em together and what you get is The Wonder Twins of Epically Bad Life Advice.

This cattle call of the self-development world has spawned a worshiping army of “passionites,” where “do what you love” and “follow your passion” supplant demand, business models, and economics. Both need to be stricken from your vocabulary, and the sooner done, the sooner you can Unscript. Here's why:

Again, both phrases bastardize survival spotlighting and podium popping.

Think about it.

Everyone is passionate about one thing or another. The problem is no one interviews passionate failures. Failed passionites have no stage, no audience, no one salivating at their greatness. The bankrupt passionite who's followed his passion for twenty years and didn't get featured in Inc. Magazine isn't dispensing advice.

Think of it this way.

Are American Idol winners passionate about singing? Of course they are. Does it make sense to sing auditions when you're dispassionate about it? Therefore, the 190,000 people who also auditioned and went home crying failures were also passionate. Will you ever hear from them? Nope.

Second, consider the cancer corollary as it pertains to Steve Jobs's "love what you do." Do you remember why you bought an Apple product? Did you consider Steve Jobs's personal motives or internal narratives when you forked over cash? Was Steve Jobs's "love what you do" a factor in your decision process? Is anyone waiting in line for eighteen hours at the Apple store thinking about Steve Jobs? Or Tim Cook?

Of course not. You spend money on these great products because, well, they're great products. Within your purchasing decision, you identified perceived value, and after purchasing, perceived value transformed into actual value. Bam. Satisfied customer. The founder's selfish sentiments had no place in your decision tree.

Let me put it another way. You're at a fancy restaurant and order steak, medium rare. The steak hits your table and it tastes like grilled leather and isn't fit for a vulture. You complain to the server and refuse to pay. The server retrieves the owner, who's also the chef.

When the owner/chef arrives at your table, you explain that your meal tastes like baked cardboard and refuse payment. He replies, "I'm sorry, sir, but I love to cook. And since I love cooking, you must also love what I do."

You see, at the end of the day, no one cares about the motives driving you. No one gives a shit that you love what you do! No one cares that you want to “be your own boss,” “get rich,” or any other selfishly conceived motive.

Remember the cancer corollary, where value trumps all: If you have something that hasn't been commodified and you effectively communicate its value to me, you get my money. If you hated formulating a cancer cure—doesn't matter—you still get my money. Passion, love, and everything else are irrelevant.

Third, the moment you straddle the wonder twins as your life compass, the fiduciary principle is violated and selfishness becomes your navigator. This disposition aligns with scripted thinking, the same herd mentality that causes consumers to trample into a Walmart at 2 AM on Black Friday. Whenever you're partnered with selfishness, it makes you blind to opportunity because you're too focused on what you want (and don't want) versus what other people want.

For instance, I had an acquaintance some years ago who was hooked by the wonder twins. I cautioned him, but the promise of glory was too alluring. At the age of thirty-six, without an income, he quit his job as a sales representative. And with help from The Bank of Enabling Parents, he took a stab at “doing what he loved.”

His idea? Let's start a blog, as if the other eleven million blogs weren't enough. Worse, his business model was apparently writing about himself incessantly: me, me, and more me. You see—I'm special, I'm unique, and I'm following my passion! I should be raking in the Google AdSense revenue in a few months! For over a year, I watched this poor guy write about shit no one cared about.

I cleaned out my garage; don't the shelves look bad-ass? I just read this book that says, "do what you love," you gotta read it! Here's a funny story when I was nine years old! In the end, his only fans (customers?) cheering from the gallery were his enabling family.

For me, the train wreck got old and I stopped paying attention. And his thirty-one Twitter followers probably did too.

Once again, the point needs to be driven home: no one fucking cares.

Your parents said you were special. Maybe, but in the eyes of the market, it's a fantastic lie. The market is one selfish rat, and if you insist on being selfish yourself, you don't have a prayer. When passion doesn't solve people's problems, passion doesn't pay bills. And those are points number four and five.

Does a market even exist for what you love? Do other people need what you love, and if so, are you exceptional at it while communicating a unique value proposition? If you aren't, be prepared to prostitute your love in the name of paying bills.

Markets flooded with “do what you lovers” are extremely crowded and rip-your-hair-out competitive. Does the Internet really need 190,000 weight-loss blogs? Yes, I get it—you lost weight; you're passionate about the accomplishment; now you want to spread the gospel. But so are 400,000 other people, and unless you're doing something different, you remain unremarkable.

Saturated markets mean mediocrity and average products, and wonderland “do what you lovers” cannot survive unless they're an outlier. Excess supply suppresses price, and suddenly, your love is commodified where “best price takes all.”

I can attribute my early business failures to these two mantras. I followed my interests and passions while ignoring market needs and marketable value propositions. From vitamins to automotive audio, everything I tried never offered or communicated unique value to the marketplace. Need, nonexistent. Passion didn't pay the bills because passion didn't hit a market need.

If only my blogger buddy asked first, “Does blogging about myself for 300 days straight solve anyone's problem or, at the minimum, create outstanding entertainment?” No and no.

On my forum, one member figured it out the hard way. He said:

Oh, you like to snowboard, so you're going to build a snowboard business? Your passion is not a reason to go into business. I lost eight months and made Zero sales attempting to"follow my passion" when I knew nothing about how to add value in this particular market.

Practically every week, a corrupted “do what you love” drone storms into my forum and asks such telltale questions: “Should I start a fitness blog?” “Do I start a car social network?” When I probe further, “What value are you offering” or “What are you doing different than hasn't been beaten to death elsewhere?” the answer is always the same: nothing. For the lost, “do what you love” and “follow your passion” are suddenly a business model impervious to market economics.

Take for example personal training—a career rife with “do what you love” and “follow your passion” go-getters. The fitness person thinks, “Hey, I love fitness, so I'll be a personal trainer!” Great, except you are an ant on an anthill. Thousands more think identically, and as a result, the aggregate trainer pool could fill fifty coliseums. Thousands are eager to undercut your livable wage.

And once that happens, guess what? Your love withers into hate.

Another injurious effect stemming from the dynamic duo of bad advice is opportunity compression. Opportunity compression limits your exposure to new opportunities in alternative industries that are ripe for new value offerings. For example, if you're passionate only about sewing and scuba diving, you will compress your available opportunities to those industries only. If those industries represent only 0.0002 percent of G.D.P, you limit yourself to that small pool of opportunity. Don't microscope yourself into a puddle when you should be surveying the ocean.

The snowboard entrepreneur quoted above who had zero sales following his passion? He went on to start a successful company in the pet industry, owned it for a few years, sold it, and—last I checked—was on a three-month vacation in Thailand. And get this: he didn't have a dog nor was he passionate about the industry. Myself? I camped in the limousine industry for over a decade, and yet I had no passion for that particular space other than the process of adding value to it.

The fourth reason why “love” and “passion” shouldn't be your bread-maker is called the overjustification effect. The overjustification effect is a psychologically studied phenomenon lending credibility to the idea that “do what you love” and “follow your passion” are destructive career advice. Namely, once you get paid extrinsic rewards for something you once did freely due to sheer intrinsic motives, your interest in that activity suffers. According to Wikipedia via Psychology: The Science of Behavior, the overjustification effect occurs...

...when an expected external incentive such as money or prizes decreases a person's intrinsic motivation to perform a task. The overall effect of offering a reward for a previously unrewarded activity is a shift to extrinsic motivation and the undermining of pre-existing intrinsic motivation. Once rewards are no longer offered, interest in the activity is lost; prior intrinsic motivation does not return, and extrinsic rewards must be continuously offered as motivation to sustain the activity.

So, if you're doing something freely because you're passionate about it, suddenly getting paid for it might poison that passion. I see failed passionites report this frequently, including my own experience. I started chauffeuring because I loved to drive. By the time I finished that job, I hated driving.

Fast-forward twenty years and guess what? I still hate driving.

“Do what you love” can kill your love.

The same story was repeated on my forum, except from a user who, like me, was passionate about six-figure sports cars. “Do what you love” killed his love. He wrote:

From the earliest I remember, I was car obsessed. I ate, slept, and drank cars. Naturally, I was desperate to learn and passed my driving test at seventeen. Two weeks after, I passed my race license. I loved it; in the first twelve months of driving, I covered 25,000 miles for no reason other than I enjoyed it.

After passing my race test, I got my instructor's card and became a self-employed racing driver at the age of eighteen. I worked for two local companies that did driving experiences with customers. I was paid to drive Ferraris and Lamborghinis on a racetrack. Yes, I was paid to drive exotic cars most people dream of sitting in, let alone owning. And I was paid well for it.

In the first three years of being licensed, I owned fourteen different cars, sometimes three cars at the same time. All of my earnings went to my cars, and I loved life. I could work at whatever racetrack I wanted. Sounding more like a success story, right?

I worked in that industry for four years, and by the time it was over, I Hated driving. The one thing that defined me—my love of cars—was absolutely killed by that job. Everyone who got in a car with me said I had the best job in the world, and for a while, I agreed with them. But after 30,000 laps on the same track, I can tell you I want nothing more to do with them.

I did that job because I loved driving cars. I didn't do it because I loved hospitality or the thrill customers received. I did it because I drove cars I couldn't afford. I was in it for the wrong reasons.

Don't"do what you love," because even if you are lucky to make a living doing it, you won't love it for very long. You should love the value you create. The process is hard, but it's justified by your love of the value that is created through it.

“Do what you love” can kill your love.

One of my few hyperrealistic vices (or loves) is watching N.F.L football. During a game, my friend quipped that he'd love to be an N.F.L referee as they work one day a week and make bank—six figures and more. I argued that for the crazed football fan, it's a horrible idea. As a referee, you would systematically destroy your love for the game, where games would become unwatchable. Instead of absorbing a game as entertainment, you'd be forced to observe the game as segregated units of action for the purpose of catching penalties. You'd never watch the game in the same way.

The final reason why “do what you love” and “follow your passion” are crummy advice is perhaps the most potent and destructive: they're Trojan horses into a fixed mindset, a justification to avoid pain and discomfort, and hence, inhibit growth. Let me explain.

In Chapter 18, I confessed that I'm an introvert. That means if you're a random stranger and email me a coffee offer, I'll decline. It's not that I don't like you; it's just that I'd rather dive into a good book surrounded by solitude. Introversion also means that I have no desire (or passion) to be famous. I hate public speaking, interviewing or doing podcasts. Nonetheless, I do them because they align with my meaning-and-purpose. To spread the unscripted message, I have to get out there, speak, and spread the good word. If I grasped the mentality of "do what you love" or "follow your passion,"

I'd never do these things because I hate them. Public speaking? O.M.G, I hate that! I don't love it, nor do I have passion for it! I'll pass!

And this highlights the ultimate irony: the secret to success isn't "do what you love" but "do what you hate." How much pain and anxiety you'll endure tells me how much success you're willing to achieve. You see, passion doesn't move me to do podcasts or live radio interviews. And passion certainly doesn't put me on stage in front of an audience for two hours—meaning-and-purpose gets me there.

In the end, the wonder twins maliciously give you good cause to decline anything that looks like work, seems discomforting, and isn't aligned with passion. Simply put, you'll never grow into the person you need to become because you're too busy avoiding transformative pain. And in the world of passionites, it's perfectly justifiable because, after all, Steve Jobs says, "Love what you do."

The Feedback Loop: The Key to Passion (and Great Results)

So... was Steve Jobs's advice, "Love what you do," wrong? Should we ignore the billionaire's advice and instead listen to millionaire advice from me? Isn't that a significant demotion? Well, if the ante is one billionaire against me, I'll raise you two billionaires: Mark Cuban and Marc Andreessen. Both recently echoed a similar opinion about our infamous wonder twins. In a series of tweets, Andreessen posited:

Tweet #1: "Do what you love" / "follow your passion" is dangerous and destructive career advice. 67

Andreessen then tweeted a few more times about the survivor bias and how “do what you love” failures have no platform. And then he dropped this golden nugget:

Tweet #5: Better career advice may be"do what contributes" --focus on the beneficial value created for other people vs just one's own ego.

A similar sentiment was echoed by another billionaire, Mark Cuban, on his blog, BlogMaverick dot com. He stated:

What a bunch of B.S. "Follow Your Passion" is easily the worst advice you could ever give or get. 69

So, in the battle of billionaire advice (and my insignificant millionaire self), who's right? They all are.

Whenever I hear Jobs's Stanford speech, I know exactly what he was talking about, and it wasn't the literal interpretation. He wasn't giving us the golden key unlocking the secret into pain-free success. He instead gave us insight into the joy and love one receives when the world values your value. Notably, when the world kicks on your feedback loop and says "This is awesome" or "I like this; here's my cash," you too will love what you do. Let's look back at the motivation cycle.

Image summary: This is a conceptual flow chart and process diagram. The figure illustrates a psychological cycle starting with a motivational why, which leads to action. This action enters a feedback value loop that generates results, which in turn reinforce beliefs and identity as well as passion. The diagram also shows a divergent path where a lack of response or silence following action leads to quitting. The primary conclusion is that positive feedback loops sustain motivation and identity, while a lack of external validation results in the cessation of effort.

Followed by strong why's compelling Action, your Feedback Loop does the heavy lifting, driving passion and, hence, results. Whenever there is silence, or an absent feedback loop, the cycle sputters out into quitting.

Ever notice that when you start a new project, you're incredibly passionate? If you survive the desert of desertion and launch a product that isn't well received, expect passion to fizzle. Every blogger starts their blog with passion. However, after one or two posts and encountering market silence—no one has read, shared, or commented on their legendary prose—the passion fades. When no one values our value, passion quits us.

This explains why a gazillion blogs are abandoned after two or three articles. Think those people would quit if their first blog post had a million views, 500 comments, and 12,000 shares? The feedback loop drives passion, which drives action, which drives results. See, it's easy to love what you do when others do too. Think I'd write another business book if my first book sold just forty-one copies?

Passion flows when effort is rewarded.

Likewise, Jobs said this during his speech:

I was lucky; I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents' garage when I was twenty. We worked hard, and in ten years, Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a 2 billion company with over 4,000 employees.

Could it be Jobs loved contributing, building a huge empire, and seeing the world love his work? Could it be real love—the real passion—doesn't come from “doing” but from having your creative contribution validated? The act of self-growth and worldly verified accomplishment?

If you built a $2 billion company, you made a gargantuan impact on the world. If you're responsible for that feat, how would you feel? Would you suddenly “love what you do”?

On the flip side, what if Jobs was a lifetime failure and didn't connect his feedback loop, and hence didn't build a $2 billion company? No company, no customers, no products, nothing. Still think Jobs would be speaking to graduating students at Stanford, saying, “Love what you do”? You see, the mechanism underneath Jobs's statement is neither love nor passion for specific work, but having love and passion for the positive Results of your work.

In a Prager University video voiced by Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs fame, Mike recalls a conversation with a multimillionaire who cleaned septic tanks. He said:

I looked around to see where everyone else was headed, and then I went the opposite way. Then I got good at my work. Then I began to prosper. Then one day, I realized I was passionate about other people's crap.

Ever notice when a sports team is winning, everyone is smiling and having fun? And yet when that same team is losing, they're sulking and looking like they're attending a funeral? Winning inspires passion; losing does not.

Here's another example I recently read: In 2011, Leonard Kim started a WordPress blog after leaving his job. He wrote three posts. And no one read it. And then he quit.

Later, he gave Quora a try, figuring, “Why not?” In his first month, he received a similar result, 102 views. Nothing spectacular. However, Kim's *luck* would change. One day someone who was inspired by his writing promoted it to over 1,000 people. And those people loved his work, compelling more views and kick-starting Kim's feedback loop. This inspired Kim to write more. In his next month, his writing received 3,000 views. The next, 61,000—followed by 162,000 views. After eighteen months, Leonard is now over eight million views on his writing, including this fan in Arizona 72

What changed since those first three blog posts that no one read?

A positive feedback loop.

Similarly, did you know that Chipotle's founder Steve Ells originally had no interest in starting a Mexican fast-food restaurant? He started Chipotle hoping it would fund his passion, a fine-dining restaurant.

However, the market had a different idea.

As customers loved his fast-food concept and profits soared, his feedback loop fired positively.

Suddenly “follow your passion” became irrelevant. In a Huffington Post interview, Ells said:

I remember feeling a little guilty every time I opened a Chipotle. I felt guilty because I wasn't following my true passion. But that eventually went away. And I realized that this is my calling.

Ahh, and that's the amazing power of a positive feedback loop—suddenly “do what you love” and “follow your passion” are exposed as the frauds they are.

In The Millionaire Fastlane, I mentioned passion was the motivation behind results. Unfortunately, this too was misinterpreted into “follow your passion.” Ugh. My intent was that a solid meaning-and-purpose, a why, drives action into doing whatever it takes. For instance, the example I used was about a man who recounted his impoverished childhood, where things were so bad that his family used melted snow for toilet water. These moments created a transcendent Why for him—"I'm not going to live like this for the rest of my life!" A powerful Why underneath meaning-and-purpose produces many things: stubbornness, focus, discipline, persistence, and yeah, even passion.

My current purpose—spreading the unscripted gospel—compels action. That action translates into hard work, which sometimes isn't fun or passionate. Nonetheless, work's positive results spawn more passion. When I wake up and discover I already earned $1500, I feel passion.

When my inbox has several “you've changed my life!” emails, I feel passion. When my book wholesaler orders 300 books, I feel passion. And yet, I don't feel passion having to spend thirty minutes processing orders.

I don't feel passion when I'm preparing for an interview or staging myself to speak, but I feel it after.

So, if all this gibberish about passion, meaning, and purpose is making your head spin, let's clean it up. Within (tunef), your beliefs shape your identity and pierce into your meaning-and-purpose, or your whys. That purpose drives you into action, which in itself can be extremely difficult and discomforting. Both pain and passion accompany this journey.

Once you feel the positive results of your effort—feedback, sales, success stories, stray dogs saved, etcetera—more passion is generated, which advances the entire motivation cycle. I'm not passionate about dog poop, but I could own a multinational company that cleans it up if it aligns with my purpose in making the world a better-smelling place.

Passion is self-replicating and greases the entire system. Your positive impact generates passion. Don't be passionate about what needs to be done; be passionate about what you will become.

Be passionate about your vision as it compels doing whatever it takes. Passion focused on specific activities does not. In the end, passion isn't something you follow; it's something that ebbs and flows within you.

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure standing with both arms raised upwards, holding an object in one hand. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or achievement.

Finding Your Purpose

Image summary: This figure is a graphic illustration consisting of text and a stylized icon. The content features a chapter heading followed by an inspirational phrase about igniting purpose and invigorating the soul, accompanied by a simplified human figure with arms raised in a celebratory or triumphant posture. The image conveys a message of empowerment, achievement, and spiritual or personal awakening.

Chapter 30 Ignite Your Purpose, Invigorate Your Soul

If you're unsure of your meaning-and-purpose, sorry, you don't have one. If you're crying because your favorite hockey team lost the Stanley Cup or because N.B.C canceled your favorite television show, guess what?

No meaning. No purpose.

On the contrary, if there's something obsessive in your life keeping you awake at night, congratulations, young Skywalker—the Force is strong with you. And therein lies the chasm between interests or commitment; shallow desires don't compel sacrifice, whereas a committed purpose sacrifices everything. It borders obsession.

Again, consider the cancer corollary.

If you were diagnosed with cancer and your mortality came into focus, would you struggle to find meaning-and-purpose? Would hyperrealistic distractions finally get the demotion they deserve? And what about passion?

Would survival and kicking cancer's ass suddenly have the power to generate passion? You see, meaning-and-purpose sit in the driver's seat; passion rides shotgun. It inspires you to do what others won't, from breaking comfort zones to obsessing about process and progress. In fact, meaning-and-purpose are so powerful it can be dangerous.

If you're willing to do whatever it takes, your “whatever” might regress into the unethical or even criminal activity. For example, in F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby is a rags-to-riches socialite whose Why for becoming famously wealthy was to win the attentions and affections of a past love. Except his fortune was nefariously obtained—a ravenous purpose sank him into the abyss, where he found a young death.

The common thread among the famous as well as the infamous is a dominant meaning-and-purpose. And likewise, the common thread amongst the scripted sheeple is they have no meaning. Instead, hyperreality babysits—this is why we have a society addicted to Game of Thrones and whoever wins some stupid singing contest. With meaning, this shit cannot compete. Social media showboating is no longer entertaining.

Sporting events—fleeting entertainment not worthy of tears or a sibling smackdown. Pop culture: who's dating whom, who got fat, who's styling a new bikini—a pointless insult and trivialization of your purpose. Once you own that reality is steeled by meaning-and-purpose, hyperrealistic distractions are, well, distracting.

So how do you find your meaning if you're unsure of yours?

Surprisingly, it can be virtually anything. The things that fire you up might make me yawn. A powerful meaning could be something as insignificant as the sight of a Lamborghini or a pompous friend mouthing-off. It could be the fear of having to sardine yourself into a commuter train. Or it could be an uninvolved parent who curses, “You'll never amount to anything.” Many times, your “fuck this” event (F.T.E) is enough to clarify purpose.

If you're still coming up empty, try this: Imagine winning a billion dollars. After winning the fortune, what specifically would you do? I'm not talking about “travel the world” or “buy a fleet of exotic cars”—I'm talking about after you've done all that. after you've bought everything and seen everything—what would be next? Writing? Philanthropy? Making movies? Whatever it is, it's a clue into what gives your life meaning or purpose.

Still, if none of this clarifies your purpose, there's not much you can do to find it other than instigating life. Recluses won't find purpose living out their days in a sacred bubble. Partake in commerce, start working out, volunteer, go on a mission. Do freaking something.

Like a "fuck this" event, many times a committed meaning is uncovered in tragedy, hardship, or momentous life events. From having your first child and wanting to be the best parent you can be, to being pink-slipped after fifteen years of loyalty are just a few examples of how events can instigate purpose.

Unfortunately, if you Google “finding your purpose,” you'll find your usual hodgepodge of selfish flagellation, mostly dry humping the wonder twins. Namely, every teenage boy wants to get paid to play video games, and little girls have Cinderella dreams while riding ponies. Not meaning. Not purpose.

The Value Challenge: Perhaps Your Purpose Is This Simple?

If you haven't pinned your purpose, try this experiment. I call it the value challenge: Start by simply smiling at a complete stranger—and not just any forced smile. Smile as if that person was the first person you saw after being stranded on an island for years. Do this as many times as needed until you get a return smile.

Then observe how you feel.

Pretty cool, eh?

Congratulations, you just added value in someone's life.

Continue the value challenge by helping one person in the next thirty days. Add value to just one life, and do so by virtue of your own creation, ingenuity, and hard work. Also, you must do this by learning a new skill, or something unfamiliar to you. do not Stop until Accomplished.

Your value challenge could be as simple as buying an old dresser down at the Goodwill, stripping it down, refinishing, and reselling it on Craigslist. Or you could write a short story and sell it on Amazon for ninety-nine cents. Whatever you do, the key is to create value for someone else and do it by a new process (or skill) that you must learn on the fly.

Again, like the spirited smiling, pay attention to how you feel the moment you accomplish the value challenge. You should feel good, maybe even a rush of excitement. This same feeling happens in entrepreneurship once your feedback loop transforms into a value loop. I call the experience “entrepreneurial heroine.” And once you feel it, there's no going back. Countless forum users have reported this “high,” and it's what happens when your creative sweat creates value for someone else. The value loop confirms with your first sale, your first customer, or your first “your product rocks!” testimonial.

Now imagine if you didn't provide value to just one person, but thousands...

The point is, creating value loops and getting paid handsomely to help people is indescribably rewarding. It's like watching your firstborn win Wimbledon. Perhaps buried deep behind our “whys,” we all have the same generic meaning-and-purpose—to simply solve each other's problems and make the world a better place.

The Happiness Secret (While Doing What You Hate)

But M.J, I can't be happy doing something that I don't enjoy! I want to race cars, sell legal weed, and become a famous Hollywood actor! I'm passionate about this stuff and I want to go for it! Hail, do what you love!

If you're in the campy camp that believes you can't be happy owning something completely unrelated to the gravity of your life, I understand. If you can reconcile your specific passions and loves with a legitimate market need or demand, by all means, go for it. I certainly hope the next Michael Jordan finds his way to the basketball court. Better to try than not try at all.

My polemic against the wonder twins wasn't monism or a condemnation against trying, but a rejection of these proverbs as universal and the one true path to happiness.

It simply isn't true.

In fact, want to know what really holds the key to your happiness? It's the reason why you're reading this book. Money? Business success? Respect?

Nope, none of the above.

The great happiness secret is autonomy. Freedom. The ability to feel in control of your life, to stockpile options, mobility, and whatever else you self-determine and endorse. Remember my unscripted moment outside the Bank of America when I realized I didn't need a job for at least a year? It was one of the happiest moments in my life because it gave me autonomy.

You see, anyone who tells you that money can't buy happiness isn't spending it correctly. Money buys autonomy, or it buys a down payment on debt and anti-autonomy. I shit you not. Autonomy is so influential it could cause you to love life poor and hate it rich.

In 2014, I came across a headline that read, “Billionaire Who's Proof that Money Can't Buy Happiness.” Before I clicked the link bait, I speculated on how a billionaire could feel this way. After a few seconds, my guess was that the billionaire lost autonomy, or control of something—like a nasty divorce, lawsuits, or children with interminable troubles. Turns out two of my three guesses were correct. Psychologists say parents can never be happier than their least happy child.

In The Millionaire Fastlane, I defined wealth (and interchangeably “happiness”) as having three contributing factors called the 3 Fs: freedom, family, and fitness. These 3 Fs and their happiness correlation aren't speculative. Scientists agree and evidence supports it. For example, according to Roko Belic, director of the documentary Happy, autonomy, or intentional behavior and choice, accounts for a whopping 40 percent of our happiness quotient, followed by circumstances at 10 percent and genetics at 50 percent. Based on this, you can manipulate your happiness baseline by 50 percent through winning choices and improving your circumstances.

In another instance, a report by The Journal of Personality and Social Psychology cited “autonomy” as the number-one contributor of happiness. Not respect, not a jaw-dropping bod, and not 60,000 Instagram followers—autonomy. Of course, when you're pounding your car's dashboard because traffic's backed up, you have no autonomy. When your job feels like a mandatory prison sentence, autonomy is locked away and paroled for the two-week vacation. For the scripted, autonomy isn't the elephant in the room; it's the elephant stuffed in the garage, waiting for the weekend.

According to data from the U.S Census Bureau and the Centers for Disease Control, New York City was ranked as the number-one city where Americans are unhappiest. Yes, the home of Broadway, Central Park, and Times Square isn't stroking happiness. Could autonomy be behind this metropolitan misery? Considering perpetual gridlock and an insane cost of living requiring a constant cash drip of life rations, I think so.

In other research, the psychological self-determination theory (S.D.T) is another theory that supports autonomy as well as connectedness as a critical factor in happiness. Studied by researchers Richard Ryan and Edward Deci from Rochester University, S.D.T posits that best forms of motivation and engagement, including persistence and creativity, come from our experience of autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Specifically, Deci and Ryan postulated that these needs, when satisfied, enhance self-motivation and mental health (well-being), and when thwarted, do the opposite. Basically, intrinsic improvement and growth (competence), freedom (autonomy), and family (relatedness) are core constituents of happiness.

And there's more.

Research also shows autonomy has a significant impact on health and morale. In one study, Yale psychologist Judith Rodin encouraged nursing-home patients to exercise more control over their choices, from environment to facility policies, and as a result, 93 percent became more alert, active, and happier. Some lived longer.

Another researcher, Angus Campbell, author of The Sense of Well-Being in America (recommended read) concurs with autonomy's significance and perhaps knew before all of us. Commenting on a University of Michigan study, he stated:

Having a strong sense of controlling one's life is a more dependable predictor of positive feelings of well-being than any of the objective conditions of life we have considered.

Much of this research also explains why certain jobs are incredibly fulfilling and why everyone doesn't need to be an entrepreneur. If your job fulfills meaning-and-purpose while also providing some autonomy, connectedness, and a feeling of competence, you've struck gold. According to CareerBliss dot com, the top three happiest jobs are school principal, executive chef, followed by a loan officer. Each job has its unique elements of connectedness and autonomy, while surely providing each a heightened sense of competency.

So, perhaps the secret to well-being isn't the wonder twins or a new Harley but simply self-growth and autonomy while sharing connectedness with others. And if you can't find the job that hits the sweet spot, what better way to monetize those needs than entrepreneurship? Maybe you can be joyfully fulfilled inventing a better mousetrap without being in love with them—and you just don't know it.

Choose Life by Choosing Control

The word “Chicago” disturbs me. Mention it and my face will contort into a painful scowl as if I just ate a spoonful of wasabi. It's not that Chicago's a bad city; it just represents a chapter of my life I'd rather tear out.

When I lived in Chitown, which was the first twenty-five years of my life, I was miserable. Suicidal, jump off the Hancock building, to be exact. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't find motivation or happiness. And despite a strong meaning-and-purpose, something was still suffocating it.

That something was sunshine, which I craved more than success itself. But more importantly, it was suffocating because I held an external locus of control.

Your locus of control, first postulated by psychologist Henry Rotter, refers to how empowered (or disempowered) you feel to control the events of situations around you. If you have an internal locus, you unequivocally believe that you have the power to change and control much of your life, despite surrounding circumstances or events.

Similar to a growth mindset, you understand choices are a powerful human endowment, capable of manipulating outcomes—and you're not about to waste it. On the other hand, if you harbor an external locus of control, you marginalize choice and instead play “cards”: the race card, the victim card, the seasonal-depression card, or whatever other forty-nine cards are left in the deck. This aligns with a fixed mindset where you become victimized by weather forecasts, your crooked front teeth, your bad neighborhood, your public education, or whatever excuse-du-jour feeds the moment—all reasonable scapegoats for life's sucky circumstances.

With an external locus of control, life happens to you; You do not happen to life. The man is keeping you down. Personal responsibility, suffocated by entitlement. Whatever's going on in your life, it's always someone else's fault. "Blame," not "choice," is the operative word. Yes, your business went bankrupt because of Obama, not because your website was last updated in 1998. Or maybe your business did a face-plant because of Google's algorithm change, not because your product and the business model selling it sucks. And if you're broke and couched in front of a T.V? It's because of those evil corporate oligarchs: big oil, big pharma, and heck, even big Jim, who's your bookie.

While an internal locus is proactive, an external locus is apathetic and reactive, like driftwood with a soul, a hapless casualty of life's undercurrents. In my case, the narrative I sold myself was seasonal depression. Chicago's lack of sunshine put me in bed and into a Doritos bag. While my seasonal depression was real, what wasn't real was my perception that I couldn't do anything about it.

A choice existed, one I couldn't see.

So the weather card was my trump card for years. I remember seeing photos of people who lived in sunny locales and lamenting how lucky those folks were, never once considering that I could move there myself. My cerebral dogma argued, “I can't control the bad weather,” and it stood that way for years.

Then one day things changed. My sailor-mouthed girlfriend soured on my whining. After the fiftieth consecutive day of no sunshine and, hence, the fiftieth consecutive day of me sulking, she charged, "If you're so fucking miserable, why don't you move?" And at that moment, it hit me. I did have a choice. I could murder the sacred cow and alter my reality. And for the next few weeks, I accepted the idea as a possibility and immediately was inspired with positivity.

Then just a few weeks later, my blizzard-infused "fuck this" event sealed the deal. It was no longer, "I could move"; it was, "I will move." And a few months later, I did.

The point of this story is twofold. First, a meaning-and-purpose without an internal locus is a fairy tale. You might as well play the lottery. You have to believe that your purpose is possible by simply choosing. If you feel “out of control,” it's just another self-induced hyperreality. You are free to pursue a unique path. No one has a gun to your head, forcing you to work at that call center. No one has forever condemned you to live in Podunk Anytown, U.S.A. There is no law mandating that you can't party on Monday and work on a Friday night. No one has stamped “ignorant” on your forehead where acquiring knowledge is forbidden. Basically, all the things you think you can't control are webs you have woven, silken imprisonments caged by excuses.

On my forum, a common struggle comes from people who report they are miserable living in their city. There's no opportunity here! The weather sucks!

Blah, blah. I know how they feel. And yet, when it's suggested they move, the excuses pile on. This is my home! My family is here! I love the Chelsea soccer club!

You see, you either want it or don't. You either do it or continue dreaming about it. You either choose to act or choose to complain. Don't be the dog sleeping on the nail—if you feel nailed to the floorboard, pick up a damn hammer and look for a new home.

The second reason why an internal locus of control is important is because it correlates with happiness. Specifically, autonomy. Anytime you feel in control, whether it's an illusion or not, you feel better about your circumstances. If you see a choice exists, you will experience a greater well-being. And this is why entrepreneurship is so compelling, because you control your destiny, not the boss, the corporation, or Wall Street. You.

So how do you swing the pendulum to an internal locus over an external? Again, everything starts by thinking how you think. And I say that as a student of the game, not as a master. I struggle with the same things you do.

If you're dwelling in unhappy circumstances, what specific choices put you there? Or what choices have you not made? What hidden options have been ignored and discounted due to sacred straw-men excuses?

Who is writing the script of your life? Society? Your parents? Some stupid television show? In the end, everything is a choice, including how you perceive the circumstance.

Your power rests in choosing, not just action, but in thought. It enlivens meaning-and-purpose, invigorates autonomy, and gives you the tools to change your world. And You are what comes first. Everyone wants change, but no one wants to change themselves.

Before championing an honorable cause, champion for yourself. This is your life to lead. Lead yours, and you can lead others.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram utilizing overlapping geometric shapes and mathematical notation. It illustrates the intersection of several key components including Fastlane Entrepreneurship, Knowledge Entrepreneurship, and other designated variables such as MP, 4D, and 3B, all situated within a framework bounded by unscripted elements and the FTE. The diagram suggests that Fastlane Entrepreneurship is the result of a specific intersection or synthesis of these diverse entrepreneurial elements and strategic dimensions.

Image summary: This figure is a graphic illustration containing text and a symbol. It displays a chapter heading and a title regarding the creation of a life-changing business, accompanied by a stylized figure of a person with arms raised in a celebratory gesture. The content suggests that the accompanying text provides guidance or strategies for achieving significant personal and professional transformation through entrepreneurship.

Chapter 31 How to Create a Business That Changes Your Life

Hall-of-Famers Fail 70 Percent of the Time

started my first business as a kid. However, it wasn't the typical lemonade stand but a paid event—a magic show for the neighborhood kids. Magic was my passion as a child, so passion was the impetus for my business. In the weeks preceding the show, I told all my friends about the event. I posted advertising flyers throughout the neighborhood: mailboxes, telephone poles, the bus stop.

For preparation, I read a stack of magic books from the library. I spent my saved allowances on prop tricks found in a mail-order catalog.

On the day of the show, I was excited to unleash my showmanship to the world.

And then reality hit: As the time trickled past the event's starting time, it was clear that my audience would be just five kids, of which three were my next-door neighbors. Even my brother and sister were no-shows. Lacking an audience, let's just say that my garage-magician venture didn't make the local papers.

Afterward, I licked my wounds. The ticket sales didn't cover my costs, let alone the time I spent preparing for the show. It was my first failure, and in my eyes, a very public one.

In college, I put on another failed event.

Again, passion and interests led the way.

This time, because I was deeply involved in hip-hop culture, my fraternity brother and I thought it would be a great idea to sponsor a dance party at the basketball gymnasium. We paid a respected D.J from Chicago to spin the rave. In preparation, we posted flyers all over campus, hyped the event within our fraternity, and even placed a small ad in the student newspaper. On the day of the dance, the sting of my failed magic show repeated.

I opened the gym doors. Optimistically, I envisioned an anxious crowd lined up. Instead, I opened the doors to an empty plastic bag fluttering by. Vehicle traffic was light, pedestrians absent. While the thumping bass pounded the gym, I waited. And waited.

A few of my fraternity brothers showed up, not because they wanted to, but because our frat's social chairman obligated them to. Once they met their duty of a few moments, most of them quickly left, embarrassed at the travesty. Others sprinkled in only to leave once they learned the rave was an empty, cavernous basketball court speckled with the dumbfounded. Some asked for refunds.

Then our paid D.J arrived. We met in the locker room where he cheeked an anticipative grin as thunderous bass rattled the steel lockers. My heart sunk as I pointed out the tunnel onto the basketball court. As he lugged his record crate ahead of me and cleared the bleachers, he suddenly stopped short, like a pantomimed face-plant into an invisible wall.

His smile instantly melted into a stinkface, as if he just smelled the most rancid flatulence, post bean burrito. He swiveled his head at me, eyes wide as limes. W.T.F is this?

I didn't know what to say. I muttered, "More people should be coming soon, don't worry." He nodded and ambled over to the D.J booth and mixed some records. After thirty minutes, it was clear: no one was coming.

My friend and I, hoping to cover up our colossal failure, told the D.J he could leave. Hurriedly, we locked the gym doors and refunded the few paying victims that remained. My friend posted a sign with “Dance Canceled” and quickly hung it on the gym doors. Within moments, we packed everything up and Got T.F.O. I never moved so quickly.

Another money-losing failure. And a laughable one that's retold anytime alcohol is involved.

Still, my failures continued after college. Several more, in fact. A supplement business, a jewelry business, a direct-marketing gig, a mortgage consultancy, several others—I could detail them here, but I think you get the picture: I've failed a bunch.

Every year, thousands of people start businesses and take stabs at “being the boss.” From cutesy corner coffee shops to cheesy eBooks on how to get fit in two weeks, there's no shortage of people who roll the entrepreneurial dice. And every year, thousands of businesses like these crap out as disastrous failures. They say (not sure who “they” are) that 90 percent of new businesses fail within the first five years.

Whatever the percentage, it doesn't matter. You will contribute to the statistic at some point.

The question is, will your updated resume be the death certificate of your entrepreneurial dreams? Or will you continue swinging?

You see, entrepreneurship is a lot like baseball. You take a lot of ugly swings: foul balls and strikeouts. A hall-of-fame baseball player bats 0.300, which means he only hits 30 percent of the time. You can fail 70 percent of the time and still be considered a legend. Heck, hit one home run at the right time and you can live legendary for life, even if you're a career 100 hitter.

The failure statistic simply means that entrepreneurs, in general, bat 100, or fail 90 percent of the time. Failure is a part of the game, just as whiffing is at baseball.

Think about it.

What if Steve Jobs quit pursuing his visionary ideas for computing after his Macintosh fluke? Or what if Walt Disney quit after Laugh-o-Gram, one of his many early failures?

So how can you improve your odds at connecting hits? Well, you take steroids. Except the entrepreneur's equivalent of steroids isn't illegal or cheating. Entrepreneurship's unfair advantage—the "F.E" in the unscripted framework—is Fastlane Entrepreneurship.

Entrepreneurial Steroids: Fastlane Entrepreneurship

Not to contradict myself with respect to the shortcut scam, but entrepreneurship has a secret sauce. However, this secret sauce is not a shortcut or a frankenphrase but a general foundation for starting a business and grabbing an unfair advantage. As pictured, the next phase within the unscripted Model is “F.E” or Fastlane Entrepreneurship, represented below. ebook3000 dot com Represented by the left circle and unionized with a strong meaning and purpose coupled with rewritten beliefs, Fastlane Entrepreneurship is encompassed within one governing principle—a productocracy—followed by five core Commandments, frequently referred to as Cents.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram. It illustrates the various factors that contribute to the concept of productocracy, with arrows pointing from peripheral elements toward a central core. The surrounding factors include time, control, scale, entry, and need, all of which converge on the central term productocracy. The diagram suggests that productocracy is a result of the intersection and combined influence of these five distinct drivers.

Overall, the structure has six ingredients. Include them in your entrepreneurial process and that dismal 90 percent failure statistic improves. In baseball terms, instead of hitting 0.100, you could start hitting 0.300. From the perspective of our gumball machine and luck, the Fastlane concept changes the consistency of the machine, swapping out some of its orange and red gumballs with golds.

Let's change your odds.

Chapter 32 The Productocracy: How to Print Money (and Sleep Well)

Advertising Is for Losers (joules per kelvin!)

Image summary: This figure is a pictograph. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in a celebratory gesture, holding a small flag in one hand, with vertical lines beneath the feet suggesting upward movement or jumping. The image conveys a sense of victory, achievement, and excitement.

Sprinkled throughout the Phoenix area is a quaint little pizza chain called Oregano's Pizza Bistro. Each location is branded identically in an odd combination of Western rustic and midcentury retro. Hit the bar and you won't find H.D.T.V's airing sports, but instead old black-and-white films of yesteryear. Instead of LeBron draining jumpers, you'll get Fred Astaire tap dancing or Jimmy Stewart galloping through Bedford Falls. And the Chicago deep-dish pizza? A diet-destroying, roll-your-eyes-in-the-back-of-your-head, delicious taste explosion. Yum yum.

Unfortunately, any Oregano's visit must be planned with girded expectations. Hit any location near dinner time and expect a crammed, tortuous wait. I hope you're patient or not very hungry.

Anyhow, the interesting thing about Oregano's?

I've never seen or heard them advertise.

Nope, not once.

I've never heard a radio commercial, seen a newspaper ad or been mailed a “20% off coupon from the mailbox SuperSaver. The point is they don't flood the market with advertising because they don't need to advertise. They possess entrepreneurship's Holy Grail: a productocracy.

Whereas a meritocracy pulls power to the skilled, a productocracy pulls money to the value creators, businesses who grow organically through peer recommendations and repeat customers, compelled by a distinguished product/service not readily offered elsewhere.

Image summary: This figure is a conceptual diagram. It illustrates the components of Fastlane Entrepreneurship, showing how various factors converge toward a central concept called Productocracy. The surrounding elements include time, control, scale, entry, and need, all of which are represented as inputs pointing toward the central core. The diagram suggests that achieving a productocracy requires the alignment and integration of these five key entrepreneurial drivers, implying that the synergy of these elements is fundamental to the success of the fastlane entrepreneurship model.

The short-and-sweet definition? Your product contagiously sells itself. Take for example the cancer corollary, a pure productocracy.

If you owned the cure for cancer, how long until you made a fortune? Once a small group is cured, your product's growth would snowball by raves and recommendations. News organizations would stampede your office with billions in free publicity. The need to advertise would be like pissing in the Pacific Ocean to remedy a low tide.

Ultimately, a productocracy is what separates average, survive-the-month, zero-growth businesses who are ad dependent from ones who grow exponentially through an expansion loop, or network effects.

In my pizza example, the Oregano's product and concept is so good that satisfied customers fuel the expansion loop, repeating visits and recommending the restaurant. One satisfied customer creates more satisfied customers, accelerating growth. One plus one equals three. A productocracy is like a raging inferno, whereas advertising is the gas, an optional accelerant, not a necessity.

A productivity is also the key to attracting value-vouchers, as discussed in the money/value dichotomy. With a productivity, all excuses and drama become meaningless. No one cares that you failed four prior businesses. No one cares that your teeth are jacked or your dad didn't love you enough to watch your T-ball game. A productivity is so impervious to externalities it can overcome a crappy location.

For example, there's a busy street corner near my gym that *looks* like a nice restaurant location, or so it seems. For years, this cursed corner killed so many restaurants it'd make Jason Voorhees's hockey mask smirk a grin. None of the upstart restaurants offered anything different. Average food, average ambiance, average experience. New restaurants would close down just months later.

And then Oregano's moved in. Not only has it survived, it's thrived. Curse? Bad retail location? Four prior restaurant failures at this same location? Immunity. A productivity allows owners to print money, and it doesn't care that Coco's couldn't survive at the same location..

A productocracy is also behind another West Coast restaurant sensation, In-N-Out Burger. Anytime a new store opens, lines form for miles. Again, I can't recall ever hearing them advertise either. They might, and if they do, it simply stokes the fires.

So, think about your own city. How many restaurants are in your town that are always crowded no matter what time you go? And ask yourself, do they advertise or mail coupons? Or did you just “get wind” of them through a friend or the media?

Of course, a productivity isn't just limited to restaurants.

Any product or service can reap the rewards of a productocracy. My first book sold hundreds of thousands of copies. By the time you read this book, it will probably be approaching the million mark. So did I bribe my indie publishing success by throwing thousands of ad dollars at it?

Nope. My total promotional ad spend amounted to less than $3,000—all of which was spent in the first two months of release. Moreover, I couldn't advertise on Facebook as they ruled that the book was a "get-rich-quick" scam. Additionally, my first edition's cover was a horrible orange-and-green goober that screamed "cheesy!" So let's just say, my self-publishing venture started like a swim with cement blocks chained to my ankles—I went to market with a two-buck cover and a roadblocked ad strategy, and the title stunk of greasy infomercial guru. Wow.

And yet it still sold. All because of a productocracy. Readers loved it and told friends, coworkers, and family. My reader emails often start the same: “My friend recommended your book...” For example, here's just one of many; however, this one unveils the power of a productocracy:

Dear M.J, I'm twenty-nine years old, from Santiago Chile. I have a degree in software engineering. I had been always interested in self-development, business, and entrepreneur books. A couple of months ago, I was looking for something to read and I came across an article about the book Money: Master the Game by Tony Robbins. I was not convinced, but surely that would be my next book to read...until I read a comment in that article from a user named Chris.

Chris said: "Before even thinking of purchasing this book, have a look at The Millionaire Fastlane by M.J DeMarco. This is the only honest business book I've read that spells it out clean and clear. No bull, just plain honesty. If you want to be wealthy, this is where you start. It's how I became financially free, and I'm thirty... not seventy.

Bada-Bing, Cha-Ching. Just like that, another sale.

And this is just one random recommendation from one random stranger made on one random blog about another author's book. How many others read the comment and did the same? And how many more similar comments are scattered throughout the web? A lot. And every one of them sells for me perpetually independent from my time, day after day, hour after hour.

The Push (Buy My Shit) versus The Pull (You Want My Shit)

Every podcast and interview I've ever done happened because I was asked. I didn't solicit myself in a cold email, begging to be interviewed. Likewise, I won translation licenses in the same manner: Publishers contacted me, asking to be a part of my book's success. My book did the selling, not me.

Behind this phenomenon is a push-pull polarity—the genome that determines if your company is one that grows spectacularly, a productocracy, or one that struggles to survive. Companies held hostage by advertising chain themselves to a push. Companies that grow like weeds and enrich their founders, boast the pull.

Not long ago, whoever spent the most on advertising would win the sales. If the toilet leaked, you searched “plumbers” in the Yellow Pages and phoned the one with the biggest ad. If you ate a new snack cracker, you either saw it advertised on television or it was slotted favorably in the grocery store, where its colorful labeling caught your eye. Both required wheelbarrows of cash. To sell large volumes of product, corporations had to buy large volumes of advertising. Advertising pushes its product to the masses, pushing sales.

Conversely, the pull in the push-pull polarity is a productivity where products or services have gravity. Customers come to you. Each time the product/service is used, its gravity strengthens. The essence of a pull is word of mouth, social proof, and satisfied users.

A great pulling example is Tesla Motors. In an earnings conference call, Elon Musk implied that his advertising expense (in 2015) would be none. And yet Tesla has sold billions' worth in cars. How does that happen? The pull of a productocracy.

If clients are recommending and sharing your products on social media, congratulations, your product is pulling. Which side of the fence your company sits on is determined by one thing only: the market's reaction to your product.

When my book was first released, I don't remember its first sale or how many sold over the first few months. I didn't care because that wasn't important. What was important was spotting gravitons, or instances validating a productocracy's pull.

I do, however, remember the first email from a stranger who said the book was life-changing. Then the book was recommended on Twitter by a stranger. Then I saw the same thing on Facebook, and it repeated. These gravitons symbolize a productocracy and its pulling D.N.A. It also meant I could commit to my book and endeavor for worldwide scale. Without pull's gravitons, I'd be left with just an unappealing push. And that would make me no different from the other 900,000 books self-published that year.

No thanks.

Unfortunately, most companies operate from a push modality and rely on multimillion-dollar ad budgets to maintain sales or marginal growth. Many of these companies start as productocracies, but over time their operations disintegrate into pushes, usually due to stakeholder demotions (more on that later).

Think about it.

When was the last time someone recommended a McDonald's hamburger to you? Or a nice cold drink of Budweiser? Funny, eh? The truth is, I am suspicious of any company who advertises heavily because it suggests a product that can't pull.

For example, I avoid both Geico and Progressive Insurance like a stranger on the Vegas Strip snapping porn cards in my grill. Both companies advertise as often as a Chihuahua barks, so anytime I see "Flo" or the gecko, I'm reminded to shut off the television. Despite the advertising, I've never been recommended either.

The same suspicions flow locally.

Ever get one of those thick envelopes filled with coupons mailed to you? The one stuffed with advertisements from nearby home remodelers, pizza joints, and carpet cleaners? Again, the businesses that advertise every week are foisting the red flag of product mediocrity. I simply don't trust them, and I'd rather go online and post a query to the neighborhood Facebook group.

To test my theory, I conducted an unscientific study. By memory, I wrote down every company who heavily advertises on the radio. Since I listen to a lot of sports talk radio, this was easy.

Whenever a company advertises so much that I can't stop humming their commercial's musical jingle, they become top-of-mind—but not favorably. So within a few minutes, I came up with five companies. I removed their identifying names (but kept the industry). Here they are:

1. A.A.A Flooring

2. B.B.B Air Conditioning & Repair

3. C.C.C Roofing

4. D.D.D Pest Elimination

5. F.F.F and Sons (hvac)

So after compiling these companies, I logged onto Yelp and examined their user reviews. Mind you, I didn't do any research into this; I simply wrote down my “top-of-mind” companies who advertised heavily. Here are the results:

Table summary: The table lists several home service companies and their corresponding customer ratings and review volumes, showing that all listed providers have low overall satisfaction ratings, with AAA Flooring being the lowest rated.

The average Yelp rating for these advertising behemoths? A pathetic two stars.

And if you included many of the Yelp “not recommended” reviews, it would be in the One-STAR range. Conclusion? None of these companies is running a productocracy. Read their reviews and some of their customers go as far as saying they're running scams. They need advertising to survive. Newer, oblivious customers need to replace the dissatisfied ones—the push is the business. And if advertising is needed to drive sales, sorry, you've got a product problem.

The truth is, many companies aren't facing the reality of today's consumers: Few make buying decisions based on advertising. Instead, buying decisions are made through social media, personal recommendations, and peer reviews. Websites like Yelp, Angie's List, and TripAdvisor give consumers a voice where they can tell others about their favorite and least favorite companies. Before I buy anything, I find it first on Amazon to examine its reviews. Advertising might get me looking, but reviews compel me to buy.

The same buying behavior also happens within your community. For instance, I belong to a Facebook group where residents of my community, Fountain Hills, share local news and events. And yet, usually half the posts are recommendation inquiries. Looking at it now, here's what I found in the most recent ten posts:

- Does anyone have any recommendations for places to stay and things to do in Bisbee, A.Z?

- Need a recommendation for getting the A/C fixed on my truck.

- Big shout out to Craig over at West Appliance Repair for fixing my washer; he was in and out real quick!

- Check out the Flower Child, a new restaurant over in Scottsdale that finally has organic, G.M.O-free food, including grass-fed beef!

- Can anyone recommend a decent nail tech in town?

Think about the last five things you bought outside normal groceries. Here are mine and what ebook3000 dot com compelled me to buy:

Quest Protein Bars (recommended by a fitness friend)

■ Sonos Wireless Stereo (recommended by the web through thousands of positive reviews)

Bulletproof Coffee (recommended by multiple friends)

Norwegian Smoked Salmon (free sample, Costco)

■ Myoplex Supplement (recommended by a doctor friend)

As you can see, none of these purchases happened because the company plastered a banner ad in my face. None of them sent me a slick ad mailer or interrupted my dinner with a telemarketing call. The product sold itself by being recommendable. And in the case of a free sample, tasty enough to buy. You see, companies grow geometrically, and sometimes exponentially, based on what our neighbors and peers say, not what advertising says.

Quite possibly the best demonstration of a productocracy's propensity to explode an enterprise comes from any illegal operation—say, a drug dealer. These ventures, albeit highly risky for their proprietors, are also highly profitable, often making their perpetrators fabulously wealthy. Have you ever wondered why? It's because they pull.

Any illegal profession is implicitly a productocracy because of either a skewed value equation or an economic imbalance. The product is scarcely available or deceptively represented as remarkably superior. So if you're dealing drugs, you have an economic advantage because your product is both scarce and hugely addictive. Users create more users, each very likely to repeat.

A productocracy would also be the pull mechanism behind Bernard Madoff's $30 billion Ponzi scheme. For years, he offered above-market returns to investors. Instead of earning 5 percent in standard funds, they could get a remarkable 10 to 15 percent from Madoff. When those investors saw those returns on paper, and sometimes in reality, they started telling friends. And those friends told their friends, and the next thing you know, the scam is attracting billions. A scammer's primary weapon for explosive growth is a fake productocracy!

Remember, perceived value is the only requirement of a money exchange, not actual value.

Unfortunately, too many entrepreneurs aren't interested in creating businesses that pull. Instead, they operate from a “push” axis, where solving problems or creating value is not a priority—money-chasing and/or value-cheating is.

These pushers, Bro-marketers on training wheels, aren't filling needs or making something easier; they're simply looking for a "plug-and-play" product—something that can make money through slick marketing and advertising. On my forum, "push entrepreneurs" reveal their push mentality by asking such questions as:

- I'd like to write an eBook; what topics make the most money?

- I'd like to start selling on Amazon; what's a good product?

- What companies drop-ship, so I can start my eCommerce empire?

A productocracy is an afterthought. Products that put smiles on customers and solve problems, a non-sequitur. Instead, the product is a mere spoke in the wheel, as nearly inconsequential as picking the color of your toilet paper. Value creation, and executional improvement are nowhere to be found. Instead, pushers and Bro-marketers sell mediocre products, or surrogates, just so money can be made. A productocracy is then supplanted by slick copywriting and marketing.

The Internet marketing subculture is rife with push marketers who lipstick pigs, repackaging stale and ineffective information into coaching programs, P.D.F's, and whatever else carries a hefty price tag.

Behind the slick copy, the grand promises, and the cheesy bonuses, what you don't see are the poor metrics: 0 reorders, 25 percent refunds, and 10 percent chargebacks. As they say, all hat and no cattle. This isn't a business; it's a racket.

When your product sucks and no one reorders, or most customers leave bad reviews, advertising is the only card you can play in the deck. And when the advertising stops, so do the sales, and so does the company. In this case, there is no fire, just the spark of marketing to push a substandard product into the hands of the deceived. Instead of selling actual value, push entrepreneurs are selling perceived value.

At this point, you might think I hate advertising, sales, or marketing. Or that it's unnecessary.

It's neither.

In fact, sales, advertising, marketing, and copywriting are probably the most critical life skills you can have.

My advertising rants aren't to spurn its organizational imperatives but to demonstrate its relationship to the pull of a productocracy. In a product-centered organization, advertising doesn't float the boat; it steams the boat.

So if you already have a business, how long would you survive if you stopped advertising? If the answer is weeks or months, you've got a product problem. And with a product problem, ultimately, you will have a business problem.

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure standing with both arms raised upwards and outwards. The posture suggests a gesture of victory, celebration, or success.

Perceived value hustlers are interested in having the best marketing, the best copy, and the best sales funnels—not the best product.

Engineering a Productocracy: If It Makes Cents, It Makes Sense

As a newbie entrepreneur, whether you live in Menlo Park or in Podunk Park, your number-one goal shouldn't be sales, but a confirmation of a productocracy. A productocracy is entrepreneurship's grease fire: exploding growth, filling wallets, and keeping spouses happy.

Within the unscripted Entrepreneurial Framework, a Fastlane productivity intersects with the right beliefs and a strong purpose. Engineering your productivity isn't as simple as a great product or doing something different from the market. While these help, a productivity goes beyond your product.

A productocracy has five core Commandments called Cents. They are:

- The Commandment of Control

- The Commandment of Entry

- The Commandment of Need

- The Commandment of Time

- The Commandment of Scale

Consider the Cents framework the scaffolding for a productocracy and an unscripted yellow brick road. In other words, if your business eventually makes Cents, it makes Sense.

Chapter 33 The Commandment of Control: Own What You Build

Sharks Eat; Guppies Get Eaten

Image summary: This figure is a pictogram. It depicts a stylized human figure with arms raised in the air, holding an object in one hand, with vertical lines positioned underneath the feet. The image conveys a sense of victory, celebration, or jumping in excitement.

It's the day of your birth. Before descending into earthly form, God throws a twist in your incarnation. Instead of living as a human, you will live as a fish in the Pacific Ocean. God gives you a choice: live as a shark or a guppy. Which do you pick?

Let me guess.

The shark.

And let me guess why.

You don't want to end up the shark's dinner.

Give one hundred people the same choice, and you'll hear a similar opinion: I want to be the king, the master of my domain! You'd be insane to pick prey over hunter, right?

Not so in the business world.

Most business neophytes skin themselves as guppies.

You see, whenever you co-opt your business to the uncontrollable and untenable whims of any entity, you tell God, “I want to be the guppy!” Shark status, relinquished. You become the cog, not the wheel. The end result is, instead of painting your own big picture, you become a swab of paint in someone else's.

Enter the Commandment of Control.

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