Bleeding Edge

I believe each one of us gets in Life what they deserve.

I do not for a moment believe that each one of us is a financial genius that is asleep and just waiting to be awakened…

Yet the fact that you are asleep, is evidenced by the reality that most of you work like a drone in a no-end job waiting for the day that they will give you the plaque and the gold fob watch and send you home after some weak livered cocktail party, sprinkled with some inane speeches and a bunch of backslaps from the yellow teethed mouths of the well-done-jolly-good-fellow crowd, and the wishing well-cards from all those who couldn’t make the party, because they actually had better things to do with their time, such as hit the pub, have dinner, or even do actual gainful and useful work now that the old fogies are on the slow march towards the Cemetery.

Not a bad place to rest as a matter of fact, because in Seattle and in London, both cities with inclement weather — there are many whores of both sexes and of some third unidentified sexual persuasions; that ply their lovely trade of fucking for money in the cemeteries, like the High Gate in London and many ancient churchyards, and the famed Wasseli in Seattle laying next to Aurora Avenue where the beautiful and the ugly whores congregate for a cheap fuck or a quick blowie to relax the Uber-stressed and overcaffeinated Seattle crowd of both sexes.

Damn you Starbucks…

Nothing speaks Seattle, like a romp on top of the wet & cold marble tombstones while sipping a Grande Mocha Latte, with cinnamon and a vanilla blue pill, all stirred inside by the obliging Coffee Barista up the hill from the famed Waseli cemetery where Bruce Lee, his son and many other greats, mostly ordinary drones — take a respite from the hazards of the mortal coil.

And of course there are all kinds of benches strategically located amongst the bushes for those stout souls who don’t need to lay down in order to get laid.

As for the rest of you — like most yahoos looking for a good time on your birthday, on your marriage anniversary, on your special occasion because your football team won or lost, or just to celebrate TGIF, or those days of the week that end in “y” — you could give your business to any of the multitude of cheap motels and hotels along the old Highway 99, that soon will be renamed Highway 69, if my friend Dow Constantine the king County Executive who drives up and down Hi 99 each and every day of the week to find the most average looking hooker and give her a ride for a “Benjamin” in exchange for her vote.

Dow has taken his skillset of serving his people to a new high, and in his honor I dedicate this piece, because he is an old West Seattle friend and neighbor and he deserves to be remembered in history through my writings since his lackluster career as a public servant is — shall we say politely, fairly “shitty,” steeped in corruption, white supremacy, racism, non meritocracy, abuse of power and the requisite money laundering for friends and family.

So to fuck under the rain above Bruce Lee’s resting face, is not a bad way to regain your Ninza powers.

And indeed this type of fucking has curative powers for all who dare tussle with the Dead on any other day of the year as they wrestle with a random meth & crack addled Sexy Hooker.

Apologies for I misspoke, since in Seattle we only have Sex Workers, because the Seattle & King County residents cannot be called prostitutes, hoes, nymphos, unsatisfied house wives, beer tenders, grave sweepers, hausfraus, chicks with dicks, trannies, teakettles, fluffers, todger-dodgers, Catholic school girls, sperm collectors, birth containers, Coeds, Krakens, baby mamas, drug czars, heroin chicks, Seahawk Queens, Doggies, Quarelles, Qualudes, mamachitas, Chicarones, Cabrones, Curvas, Germans, etc.

You simply have to familiarize yourself with the term SW (Sex Workers) and with my friend Dow Constantine, providing full employment for all of them with his daily sperm & Ben Franklin donations.

And he is a fount of support for all those SWs, because later on in life after many years of faithful service he also provides valuable recompense by employing all of these semiretired hoes in the King County established bureaucracy, so that the meaning of speedy service in the King County building takes a whole new life as a “Quickie” because my dearest friend Dow is a premature ejaculator and that is what we call a “Seattle Minute”.

It must be the coffee.

Damn you Howard and your evil Starbucks.

From now on I shall only frequent the naked baristas of Seattle Opera and the ballet. Or is that the topless and usually bottomless baristas, of your local Queen Bee drive through?

Don’t exactly know, nor do I remember, because I am a little confused with so many coffee places in Seattle that you’ve got to get up really early to catch that rare bird that serves coffee, croissants and 69 inside the Waseli cemetery off Aurora Avenue, in Seattle’s most scenic neighborhood.

May you get lucky to get there someday for a long nap…

So that’s what life in Seattle’s fast lane is all about, but enough with the dead and dying. We shall get back on that subject of the Cinco De Mayo, that is mixed up with the Dios De la Muertes, because drinking too much tequila will surely bring on the other most important Mexican holiday of the dancing automobiles operated by tiny men with facial tattoos driving like little old white ladies. No wonder they call themselves Latin X…

I would surely be confused as well, so I call myself Mr X — in my case X stands for Grande, X-large, hell, XXX-Large. I am only speaking of my “Special Starbucks Coffee Cup” of course.

But getting back to the subject of Death and Dying on top of a Hoe, shaking the meat atop a cold marble cemetery slab — Le petite Mort, is what the Francophiles call it — you cannot but think of the Public Health statistics, or rather the Public Unhealth actuarial statistics, in order to recall that the average Civil Servant (an overwhelming majority” keels over and dies within 12 months, or less than a year after they get the gold watch, and told to go fishing…

I suspect that it is those loving wives that put arsenic in the tea of the home bound hubby, whom they love well and much, as long as he is at a healthy commuting distance from er Home. “Ich lebed Ich” darling: Off you go into the gas chamber…

So, it appears that the majority of us who always live in order to work and once we are done — our culture makes define ourselves as useless sods and therefore, we keel and die, hopefully on top of a Hooker “inflagrante” right in the cemetary so there is great savings to be had by not transporting the dead corpse via Uber back and forth. At the end you best start and stay at the cemetary where you get your carnal pleasures in more ways than one.

Unfortunately, that is how our advanced societies lead us to believe and educate ourselves into believing the wrong things about the purpose of work, the purpose of sex, the meaning of life, the reason why we work, and our incessant quest to make more money and buy more garbage to consume endless useless and tiresome things, instead of supporting our SWs as my Good West Seattle BFF (Best Friend Forever) Dow Constantine does each and every day.

Yet, above all else, we have to combat the erroneous fact that our work defines who we are, instead of the other way around.

Sadly — we are taught from an early age to define ourselves by our employment position and by extension to be good employees and work for money, maintaining the existing Status Quo by never rocking the boat.

Even your parents have always taught you that. Go become this or that and the other, and work hard at. a career for the Government, the armed forces, the fire fighting brigade, the Cop shop around the corner that unleashes pigs who suppress the unruly citizens, and all the other vermin type of life time commitments.

But not all of us fit that mold.

And some of us have chosen (after trying the old path) becoming anything, such as Professors, Teachers, Musicians, Doctors, Lawyers, Plumbers, Soccer players, and all other usual stuff — we wake up and walk away from the herd and choose to rather be circus performers, stunt men, like Evel Knievel, or his equivalent in serial Entrepreneurs, Start Uppers, VCs, and Professional Investors like us who dare to dream and follow that dream all the way to the hospital or the grave.

So here’s to the Hi-Wire walkers who walk with a balance stick, across a great chasm of this Earth, a valley, or high mountain peaks — walking gingerly on the stretched wire that resembles a clothes-drying-line in your backyard, except that it is connecting the top floors of two skyscrapers in downtown Chicago, or New York or whatever other Metropolis you call home.

That’s what I do every single day and instead of working for money — I make sure to have my Money work for the betterment of all of us, fully trusting (Not knowing) that eventually the world will reward me with their measures of success, because I always offer far more value than what I expect to receive back.

And in case you have forgotten your basic Economics classes — the simplest yardstick of success the world give to those deemed worthy of providing measurable value — is recognition, money and fame.

Nowhere is there a gold fob pocket watch described as a measure of success in my Economics textbooks, but maybe we are taught different things on this side of the pond.

Yet, what I learned from a lifetime of risk taking and high tight-rope wire walking — is to not worry too much about the measure or the yardstick, but only about the value of my work product and service to those who absolutely need it.

And this is not like the rest of you, who choose to not worry for your financial future because your spouse, your company or your government will do that for you, and there will be a solid pension plan to protect you for the whole of 12 months that you might live past retirement age…

Sadly, the message about money we’re taught from a very young age is that to survive — you must work hard, earn money, spend it, and when we run short; we go out to the Banks and borrow money, and then use our credit cards to borrow some more, and if we pay it back on time — we get a good mortgage and a decent auto loan and a solid College loan for our kids to go to a good Ivy League school.

I guess that more than 99% of the Western world subscribes to the above dogma, simply because it’s easier to find a job and work for money, than to make your own way and build your own business and thus create multigenerational wealth.

Because, all those who buck the trend — we hear, how they died in the poorhouse, or in jail, or in something in between, like the genius Tesla

Yet, we have all kinds of ways to awaken our financial genius in ways great and small, but always profitable and full of energy and the desire to live a meaningful life — not a drone’s existence.

Things like that is what I want to share with you; when I speak in my world tour of Excitement and Glory.

But I’ll give you here a tidbit and that morsel is that first you’ve got to Find a Reason.

If you ask most people if they want to be rich, they say “yes.” But then reality sets in. They realize it’s a lot of work to become rich. There is no getting rich quick. Facing these obstacles, they throw in the towel and take the easy route — getting a stable & steady job that pays the bills, and then whatever is left over after the job’s job is done — they hand it over to a pathetic broker who might lose it all because the Government every decade readjusts the game levers and steals all of your money like a Las Vegas casino does when you win too much in the Roulette wheels…

Yet, there are clearly those in life who don’t take the easy route.

And there are those who are wildly successful where others aren’t.

Yet that question needs to be asked:

What separates the successful from the unsuccessful?

The answer is found in Reason.

Because REASON is not your reason for doing what you are doing — but it is simply the combination of “wants” and “don’t wants.”

For example — my own reason for becoming wealthy, began with seeking to be of service to the world and therefore following my DREAM, I had to focus on my “don’t wants,” that in turn defined my “truly wants.”

Add to the SERVICE QUOTIDIEN, another reason; and that is that I don’t want to work for anyone else’s dream.

I simply couldn’t care less about your dreams if my objective is to actualize myself…

And indeed I don’t even want what my friends, college classmates, colleagues and social aspirants, aspired for. Namely, job security, their college sweet heart, a Tesla automobile, a full bank account replenished regularly each and every month, and a house in the suburbs with the requisite 2,3 children, to keep Social Security from going bankrupt.

It is not that I don’t like being an employee — but it is that I simply hate to take orders from people who are clearly inferior to me, I want to have my own Timetable, Life goals, Work commitments, Travel obligations (Yes – for me TRAVEL is an innate obligation) and I also don’t want to be the Corporate Man that I see playing the Pachinko machines, drunk on rice wine, sake, and cigarette smoke — all the while, eating stale sushi, and talking trash about underage prostitutes dressed like school girls that populate the Ginza district’s after work “Pub like” establishments for those Corporate men whose job highlights include a quick blowie and a standing up fuck with a schoolgirl in the ladies’ bathrooms downstairs, from the dirty swept nightly black & white tiled floors, full of emotionally absent, half drunk, or completely blotto Corporate men & Corpo-women (now), who always work to make money, avoid spending time with their spouse and kids, and simply make the ends satisfy the means.

As I am concerned — I want nothing to do with that kind of Existence. I want to live — not to simply exist. I want to not pass my time until the end of my life in meaningless pursuits.

Instead — I want FULL TILT MEANING and WONDER in my LIFE jumping over a long line of buses on my motorbike like Evel Knievel did, and still does in the videos from his era, that little kinds today have no idea what the big deal ever was, to have a brave man jumping over twenty-seven buses stacked end to end, while riding his little motorcycle, that wheezed and sped its way up a ramp and down another…

Yep, that’s what I want and the earlier stuff is what I don’t want…

And out of these “don’t wants,” I have slowly developed my “I wants.”

I want to be free to write, to speak, to help people in need, to offer medical services and good medicines to all the people who have a need, to travel the world and to live the kind of lifestyle of Service and Love that I love…

And I want to still be young when I do all this, and of course it takes a shitload of money to do that — so I always wanted to be free financially.

I basically want control over my time and my life.

Therefore, I want money to work for me.

I don’t want to be a “master of the universe” and say whatever I please to anyone without fear of being fired or looked upon as an outcast — but well, you know that it takes a whole lot of “Fuck You Money” to be me.

And since money is one way to get me there and insulate me from all the dependence crap out there — I’ll take it as one of a multitude of rewards that shape my portfolio of appreciation from my Community, because most all of the rewards that I receive are always intangible and rather difficult to be quantified in things that you would understand.

Personally, I’ve faced many setbacks in my road to riches.

I’ve lost a lot of money and made a whole lot and more back again.

And every time I built back better,

Of course, I’ve seen many Startups fall, crash & burn, like the planes in the Battle of Britain during second world war, when the Messerschidts and the Spitfires competed for control over the skies of England but in reality just tried to shoot each other out of the sky.

Kinda like the competition in the Tech Startup world today, where “Monkey see monkey do” and you have to wade through a Sargasso Sea of “Me Too” look alike companies to get through, to the IPO.

Yes, most all of them die — but the ones that survive make you a Billionaire twenty times over.

I wanted to be financially free by the ripe old age of 27, but it took me until I was 19, with nary a learning experience along that short road.

That all came later.

By the way, the learnings, came in spades and having been a Billionaire three times on paper — I know how to be Uber-rich and also how to be Uber-poor, because whenever I have a spare Billion, or two, or ten — I always give it away by building a Great Cathedral. By Cathedral, I mean an institution that will help people toady and forever (?) throughout the world, for a long time after I am gone back to being recirculated molecules of air.

But throughout it all — it has always been my baby face, my charming yet obtuse personality, and my COURAGE that gave me the strength to always follow my irrational and illogical REASONS, that pulled me through, and helped me to reach the finishing line, whatever that may be…

And to tell you the Truth — its never just the IPO. Thats just the beginning of a Great Journey ahead, like scoring a seat on the Concorde.

Capice?

Yours,

Dr Churchill

PS:

Today is the day to determine your reason for getting rich.

Make a list of your “Don’t wants” and your “I wants.”

Make sure that your reason is strong and determined.

And stay fecund my young grasshopper, because you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs to find your princess.

But if you find the right reason — and that’s a huge “IF” — then I promise you that you will find a way to not only get really wealthy, but to get laid to your hearts content with the girl of your dreams.

Because ultimately, all that we do — we do it for LOVE.

Yet it all starts with you, searching diligently and finding your OWN REASONS for giving meaning to your LIFE.

Good Luck and God Speed.

Birth your dreams… my Angel.