Selections from my new book:

Pathways to Your Future: 12 Concise Avenues to Success and Fulfillment

I was born into a rich family. I have had incredible amounts of money since the day I was born, I sleep in a big pile of money, and I suspect I will die in the same big pile of money. Since I have never had any shortage of finances, I feel it is only right for me to give something back... by telling you how you can get the same security.

When I was a young man, I never trusted myself. You could say, perhaps, that I was prepared to rest on my laurels, and truth be told, I could have. I was pretty much set for life. However, there was internal nagging, but I silenced it with excess amounts of beer and cocaine, which I could afford easily.

One day nineteen years ago, I was out driving, or rather, riding in the back of my limousine, and was stricken with the urge to use the toilet. Unfortunately, the one in the limo was stopped up, so we had to stop at a Wendy's. Needless to say, I was disgusted, and I didn't want to go in, but I had to go, and I went in, did my business, and came out. I took a risk, and it paid off, and I moved on with my life and never gave it another thought until I began writing this paragraph just now.

That's what this book is about -- risks. The little risks you take every day, believe it or not, are the first key to leaving your humdrum existence, perhaps working the drive-thru at Wendy's, behind, and taking control of your life, becoming your own manager, your own person, coasting with your own kind of success.

After that day in the restroom, it became clear to me that I had to follow my own dream or I could never be a completely fulfilled person, and in our time, fulfillment is the ultimate quest of the soul.

My fantasy, since I was younger than you'd like to know, has been simple: my lifelong dream is to build a factory dedicated to the production of self-imploding books which disintegrate. Ultimately, my main fear was that the uselessness of such an invention would be realized and I would be knocked off my pedestal and into a private life, perhaps alone by the sea. In many nightmares I died on the shore, holding one of the books, the last symbol of my former glory.

This was not to be; my books were the avant-garde statement of our time, and in addition to turning them into a profitable venture I was able to open another factory devoted to the execution, production, and marketing of a line of sweet buttery biscuits called Grandma's Old Fashioned Biscuit Co. It ultimately was a failure, but it proved the power of the eclectic biscuit industry, and I was able, after Grandma's folded, to nurture my skills in the field of chicken keychains, essentially a collection of articles on which to store one's keys marked by a likeness of a chicken or some such widely-known farm animal. Some of these make cute animal sounds upon being left in the ignition, thereby rendering it utterly impossible to leave one's keys in the car.

What's the secret? Well, to start with, I had good writers, who penned nifty press releases like this one for me:

Nonetheless, you can do it too, because the secret isn't writers, it's dedication and ambition, and most of all, being prepared to take the initiative for your own life's work. It won't be easy, but the rewards are numerous.

In my book, I will walk you through every step on the lengthy pathway to riches. It must be understood that not only is this a question of your occupational insecurity or sheer ambition, it's your life we're talking about, and you must change your life accordingly, from the food you eat and the clothes you wear to your political attitudes and the women you date. This is a book about entrepreneurial behavior, and don't you forget it.

When in important company, it is crucial to keep hands invisible from others at all times. This makes you look more elusive and therefore more intimidating and difficult. Your business sense will improve in no time.

Avoid the dinner-table eccentricities so natural to the common man. Place your forks neatly at the right (fig. 3A), your other utensils along the opposite side, no matter what Ms. Manners tells you, because there should be no barrier between you and your fork; this essential piece of silverware should be made available for immediate thrashing should cannibalistic tendencies suddenly overthrow the sanity of the others at the table. Aim for the eyes first, then the testicles, then the forehead.

In a restaurant, if you are served the incorrect meal, meaning food that is in conflict with what you ordered from the menu, the plate may serve as equally indispensable. As shown in the diagram below (fig. 3B), good practice with aim will result in an unconscious waiter, blood pouring from his scalp, his brain irreversibly damaged.

When seated near undesirables, make your insecurities, nay, your dedication to your own inalienable rights known. In this case, you may pick up some dish, preferably a glass of some sort, and bang on it with a spoon or other utensil repeatedly. Do not take the issue directly to those causing the problem; this is unacceptable. Instead, speak with the manager and make it clear that the offenders must be removed from the building.

Leave good tips consistently because those scoundrels want your money so badly they will fall over each other rushing to wait on you, then a chandelier will fall on them, crushing and killing them slowly, gradually eliminating their kind from the world.

It is impolite to step on the hands of the less fortunate citizens lying in the alley outside the restaurant and begging for food. Simply ignore them instead.

Still suffering from '90s fashion hangover? Fret not! There are still many ways to look good this millennium! And step #1 is to hide that puny body of yours. "Buff up" your look by widening your shoulders and narrowing your waist, but do it as an optical illusion, and you'll still get that V-shape for which we all pine.

Fit is the name of the game. Avoid anything that's too tight or too loose because that will only accentuate your scrawny frame. Stick to tapered shirts, jackets, etc. Wear white, and remember to stick to wool at all times. White makes you look bigger (fig. 5A), and that's what you want. I know because I was you once.

Shoulder pads are a no-no; if they're discreet, it may not be a problem, but bulky ones can call attention to your laughably undersized shoulders (fig. 5B), you little shrimp.

For God's sake, wear more tops with horizontal stripes (also fig. 5B)! These make anything look wider; check out the diagram below. Your ticket to beefier shoulders is just a horizontal striped-shirt away.

Blending in is crucial in life, and that goes for fashion too. Your arms will blend in with the rest of your body more if you wear t-shirts with higher sleeves that fit tighter around your arm. Remember: LOOSE SLEEVES EMPHASIZE BONY ARMS, stupid!

For you guys with chopstick legs, follow the same rule on trousers -- avoid baggies and tights! Add some volume to your upper body with layering techniques. Wear t-shirts under your shirts! A jean jacket under your leather jacket. Who cares if you're hotter than the blazing fires of Hell? It's a STYLISH HABIT so shut the fuck up about your discomfort.

The attitude you put forth is nearly as important as the clothes you wear, so, walk with your head held high; correct posture isn't just a must, it makes the chicks go crazy. Stay fashionable and wear those clothes well; keep on stylin' and stay in season and no one will look down on you for your body type.

I am not shy about my political agenda. My car is adorned with bumper stickers proclaiming my fearless beliefs -- my license plate number is RGN4EVER. My answering machine message? "I can't come to the phone at the moment because I'm out advancing the great conservative revolution." I have personally been singled out by members of the Radical Right from Ann Coulter to that web-blog guy Andy as a man with true promise, and if I ever choose to become a politician myself, watch out, because the already-dying world of liberalism will soon disappear entirely.

Don't try to tell me Republicans aren't hip. I knew this black kid Joey... I once heard him praising Nixon's foreign policy between blasting Wu-Tang songs on his Walkman, forcing the headphones onto my ears and proclaiming "That's DA KNOWLEDGE!" Indeed, Joey. Indeed.

If you have misgivings about joining the great youthful right-wing movement, you'd better think twice because it is undeniably the wave of the future, and you don't want to be left out; you may not achieve any kind of success otherwise in your entire life, ever. According to Micheal D. Stewart, president of Students for Trickle Down Economics, "the kids won us the election. These students provide the enthusiasm, the excitement, the work -- knocking on doors, talking to voters, passing out literature, stealing files, planting evidence, beating protesters to a bloody pulp, and on an on."

You may think you're enlightened, with your hula hoops and diet sodas and "progressive" ideas and Natalie Merchant, but you're gonna get left in the dust because even though you think you're liberal, you're not; your entire generation is conservative, or at least, they would be if they paid attention to the facts, or even had access to the facts. But no! CNN is spreading their socialist message; the communist Bill Clinton ran the nation for eight years (how like a dictator!), leading everyone to believe that the nation was solidly to the left.

You've been duped. Bill Clinton won his election through petty theft and a series of elaborate shady practices so devious that no one, not even Newt Gingrich, noticed! And every liberal in Washington, every real liberal in the country knew it all along. When you step out onto the street for your daily session of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and earning a living through painstaking labor, look around and see all those people with their "NO WAR IN IRAQ" bumper stickers and similar bullshit and remember -- they're not only lying to you, they're lying to themselves.

That's why what we need in the United States, and what every entrepreneur should try to aid in developing at every opportunity, is information, available to everyone, fair and balanced and truthful, which of course means coming down on the side of the president and the right on every issue. The praise for the Republicans will be balanced by an equal amount of shunning of the Democrats. It will be timed by the second so that no stone is left unturned, except any other political parties that may exist, but who cares about that messy situation?

God save Ronald Reagan, little shops, china cups, and virginity.

The woman you come home to in the evenings can have a large bearing on your career. No one disputes that. I am something of an expert on this subject, having conducted thirty-eight years of research. I provided unpaid, unannounced therapy to as many as two couples over nearly four decades, and because of this I am in a position to make assumptions and state broad generalizations about every man, every woman, and every relationship based on those two couples. Because you realize, underneath the hair, skin, thoughts, feelings, creativity, expression, experience, attitude, communication, thrills, likes, dislikes, skills, turn-ons, turn-offs, opinions, and knowledge, we're all the same, and we all deal with relationships in the exact same way. My own marriage dissolved last year, but because of my intelligence I at least understood why it dissolved. That's what I'll be elucidating upon in this chapter, subtitled Men Are from Texas, Women Are from North Dakota.

Relationships are not about communication, sharing joys and life experience, or expressing your feelings or thoughts or desires; let's be truly innovative here and cut to the chase of what we all really think but won't say: it's about getting what we want, as men. God placed men on this earth for the sole purpose of demanding that women give us sex (oral, anal, vaginal, etc.), food, and money (if they -- God forbid -- have carrers of their own; fuckin' dykes). The women had better deal with this, find some sap sensitive little pretty boy who couldn't protect the bitch if a bear came through the front door (probably wouldn't even own a gun, stupid faggot) or just plan on dying alone.

You see, when a man is displeased with what's going on in his marriage, he psychologically boards what is known as The Ferris Wheel of Male Frustration. He then goes around in shame circles lamenting the present situation until he begins to interact with the other men on the ferris wheel and participates in male bonding. Ideally, a man should be spending forty times as much time with his male friends as he does with his wife; otherwise the bitch would drive him mad with her preening and curtains and books and shopping and evil outside interests, the goddamned whore. (Men should not have female friends; their wives are right to be concerned if they do, because men and women can never ever ever share platonic relationships. Ever.)

Let me tell you a story from my psychiatric experiences. A man wants to sit down with his wife, watch the game, fuck, and go to bed every night. A reasonable request, and one that should not be difficult to honor; she should have wanted some relaxation after making him hearty meals and socializing with her fat bitchass friends all day long. She decided eventually, on a suggestion, from a friend, to take up diving. He exploded, and with good reason; all ever talked about, even around their child, was how she was ruining everything by taking up diving. "We can't afford this because of your mom's damned diving; we can't go there on Saturday because your mom's diving." This was a brilliant way to make her realize her mistake; the guilt soon drove her to give up the sport she loved so dearly and go back to cooking, fucking, and watching the football game with hubby.

Let me tell you what is happening here. The woman's attempt at finding a source of fulfillment other than her husband caused his ferris wheel to fly off its base and into a busy town, brutally crushing and killing millions and millions of people. Basically, she wanted to have a good time with someone/something other than him, and he wasn't having it so he did what any red-blooded American man should do -- scream and whine and get everyone's attention until everything is back to normal. This method comes in handy in any crisis at home, on the job, or during hostage negotiations.

There is a reason for all this. While men are ferris wheels, stubborn but always moving, always ready catch the next fast break, never stopping, never quitting, mysterious, sidehackin', following their own rules (like me, babe), women are buildings, and you don't see a building go walk up off its foundation and try something else other than being a building, do you? Of fuckin' course not, so let that be a lesson to you all.

Finally, I should point out that short people and tall people should never be together. Always pick someone with the exact same height, or else it just won't work, especially during missionary sex (and missionary sex is really the only way to go unless you want an eternity in Hell, female orgasm or not). Also, a needy, shy person should only be with a brash, unyielding, overbearing person; someone has to get crushed in the tide. Dominant/submissive, you bring home the bacon and she cooks it, that's the way it should always be, especially in the world of an up-and-coming entrepreneur.

To prove that ambition rises from even the most humble origins, I trotted into a classroom full of naive kindergartners and ordered them to draw, with a caption, their entrepreneurial future plans. Let's take a gander at the results, shall we?

Now this young man is clearly a young go-getter, already aspiring to ownership of an entire town, and he's also quite the ladies' man, as the town is full of buildings (see section #9). My Freudian foresight would suggest that this means he will enjoy a long life full of sex and cash.

Although women, due to their wild mood swings, can never be adequate entrepreneurs, at least thing young lady knows where to direct her dreams. In class she sported a pink shirt and overalls (none the boys in the class were following my clear guidelines from section #5) -- could it be the fashion wave of the future?

But it's this lad who reminds me the most of a young me, transferring his wildest dreams to crayon. No one has a right to tell him he can't live in a grape, and my prediction is that before long, he will.

Although this drawing has little to do with the assignment, I have high hopes for its artist -- isn't "when I see the rock" and the accompanying abstract depiction an expression of anyone and everyone's most hated pet peeves? Who hasn't had a day ruined by seeing the rock?

I hope you find as much inspiration in these pictures as I did. By any logic, from this and the rest of what I've offered you in these pages, you should be paying me more, but no, the cover price of $34.95 stands because I believe in the reader, and you can bet this is the best $34.95 you will ever spend. ($49.95 in Canada.)