Hatred and Anger: A Hypothesis

Anger is the emotion.  Hatred is the rationale.

It is the event, the person, the words that incite the fury, but rage is not enough; it does not solve the problem.  Emotions come and go.  If you are angry in this moment, it is not likely that you will feel the same 24 hours from now, let alone a week or even a month.  And just because you feel anger in the moment does not mean that the moment or event inspires true hatred.

Hatred is something deep, immensely more powerful than mere anger.  Anger is impotent by comparison, a sign of weakness.  In fact, true hatred eventually learns how to mask and eventually completely hide anger.  Hatred allows you to smile when you would otherwise scowl.  Hatred is the coldness, the calculation.   Hatred lifts you out of the moment and imagines the moment when your enemy is completely and utterly crushed.

Hatred is not an emotion.  Hatred is a decision.  Hatred is the choice to do something about what has angered, saddened or or otherwise inflicted you.  Hatred is remembering those moments - each and every one - for days, weeks, months and even years... until that one glorious moment, when the hatred can be completely and thoroughly unleashed.

Emotion.  Silence.  Logic.  You can feel supreme hatred without feeling an iota of anger, or any other emotion for that matter.  The silence that follows anger - and the final logical destination - is masterful and wonderful.

Do not feel hatred.  Be hatred.

Disjointed, seemingly random thoughts...

I saw him for the first time today.  He was moving so fast that the sky split in half.

He had figured out how to navigate through black holes; this gave him a feeling of supreme invincibility.

The only way to travel light across light years is to travel at the speed of light.

These moments would be worthless, he thought, without music to accompany him.

And all of the roaring faded into a whisper... for his focus had reached its maximum point.

All of his strategies - every last one of his weapons - were now aimed at the tip of the arrow, the tip of the parabola, infinity.

Negative infinity, zero and positive infinity merged.

Perhaps mathematics cannot explain this. Is there a secret door into the mind, one accessible only by the non-physical?

Satan himself had appeared for this moment.

An epic faceoff with the Christ.

How many horns and trumpets are there in heaven?  The noise was so loud.

The gates of hell are not meant to be opened... or are they?

There could not possibly be any more suspense.

The crescendo riled Genghis Kahn from a centuries-long slumber, and woke our hero

The whole universe was watching now, and the stage was planet earth.  Somehow, this planet is in the center of it all.

Vanquishing our enemies.  That has a beautiful ring to it, doesn't it, brother?

Look in my eyes.  See the truth.

It is no mistake that I rise with the light, brother.

My deepest thanks to Nietzsche, Robert Greene, the anonymous authors of the Holy Bible, Dr. HAHA Lung.

Is the Master of the Art of War not an artist?

Commodus: The Cheating Ass Bitch

On Youtube, the title of the video above is Fighting Commodus:  The Cheating Ass Bitch

Commodus, the cheating ass bitch, mistakenly sees herself as Maximums' equal.  His greatness, his resilience, frustrates her.  Bitches like Commodus do not know how to obtain greatness; they only know how to tear down a great man.  Maximus was destined to be emperor, and this sent Commodus into a jealous rage, for she was not as great as Maximus.  Maximus knows the "pain of patience," in Dr. HAHA Lung's words.  What immense, god-like, awe-inspiring restraint he shows as Commodus taunts and jeers - joking about his son's crucifixion and his wife's rape - him with words,  Every fiber in his being must have been literally screaming cut her throat NOW.  

But Maximus waits.  And in the end, he joins his family in paradise.  

Lesson Learned

In response to post #81: http://www.thefastlaneforum.com/community/threads/i-am-buying-a-new-bugatti-and-i-will-post-pics.47828/page-4

It's funny.  Looking back on the pain (I actually haven't gone back to read posts past July in this thread, 'cause it would only bring back bad memories and mess with my focus), I somehow knew it was coming... even four years ago.  I made real money - serious money - for the first time in 2010, and it put me in a different stratosphere of potential good moves and bad moves.  MJ has a thread on this site warning about the sorts of pitfalls, traps and utter nightmares you can fall into when you make money, and in retrospect, I didn't heed that advice nearly as seriously as I should have.  

But it's actually a damn good thing everything happened.  I now have an extremely realistic perspective of human nature, some of which is expressed in the above song, particularly near the end.  

Understand:  I live in the murder capital of the United States.  They call Chicago Chiraq for a reason.  More people die in the field than in Iraq.  I'm around guys willing to sell anything, including their souls, to get this paper.  I'm around guys risking 5 - 10 years in the pen to get this paper.  

I am unique in this city.  If anybody in the streets I'm directly or indirectly connected to had the mental ability I do, I know what they would do.  They would hustle day and night.  They'd bring a street hustler's mentality - get it, or die tryin' - to the corporate game, and they wouldn't stop until they're sitting on terrifyingly high piles of money.  They wouldn't stop until every whip in the Lamborghini store downtown was parked in the driveway of their mansion.  They wouldn't stop until all the hoes who ever played them were sorry.  

Anyway, back to hate.  I don't hate social media, I hate how people use it.  I borderline hate a lot of the people on it.  I hate the fakeness.  I hate the pretenders.  

Anger is the "Get Shit Done Emotion"

Eminem is a master for many reasons - his utter devotion to his craft, his insane work ethic, his obsession with his art  But what sticks out to me right now is his ability to capture the emotions that I feel (along with millions of other fans) with extraordinary accuracy.

This got me thinking.  I wonder how many people feel as I do.  I wonder how many dudes out there are pissed off to the core.  I mean feeling rage all the way to the core; like the rage is in your bones.  I wonder how many guys out there have their blood boiling hotter than the fires in hell.  I wonder how many dudes out there have been done wrong, done dirty, by the people who were supposed to have their backs.

I wonder how many guys would connect with this Dr. HAHA Lung character, who so eloquently glorifies - and simultaneously demonizes - how Hannibal, Vlad Tepes, Dracula, Spartacus and Musashi painted history with the blood of their enemies.

It seems that sometimes, you can't just "let it go."  So writes Lung in the opening pages of The Lost Arts of War, Ancient Secrets of Strategy and Mind Control.  

Only when I read Lung's stories of these great men who came back to murder their enemies do I feel a deep sense of calm, a psychological and bodily sensation that is so strong that it feels trance-like.  If you've ever been paralyzed with rage - by this, I mean so angry that your thoughts won't stop revolving around the particular insult, act (or memory thereof) - so much so that you couldn't think or do anything but stay stuck in that feeling, you need to check out Lung.

And truth, as someone once said, has a particular ring to it.  The trick that Lung teaches is similar to what you'll learn from Robert Greene.  You need to find some way to get yourself out of the moment.  Stop thinking about the person who betrayed you or stabbed you in the back, and focus your mind on a higher purpose, some "ultimate strategic goal."

That phrase - ULTIMATE STRATEGIC GOAL - is used in the above-posted documentary on Sun-Tzu, by Dr. Richard A. Gabriel, Distinguished Professor in the department of war studies at the Royal Military College of Canada.  During his commentary, Gabriel states that so often in war, generals focus on the individual battles, instead of focusing on what is truly important:  The political context of the war, the ultimate strategic goal, what the purpose of the war actually is.

Also discussed in the Sun-Tzu documentary is the concept of Go versus Chess, a notion that Robert Greene addresses in the final chapter of the 48 Laws of Power - Assume Formlessness.  This analogy is repeated throughout, and emphasized in the analysis of Vo Nguyen Giap's strategy (Go-like) versus the U.S. strategy (chess-like).

So, what does this mean in a practical sense?  Why is this relevant to daily life, and not just some mildly interesting academic anecdotes?

Because life is war.  People may deny this, but as Robert Greene says on the FIRST page of the 33 Strategies of war, "we know it and feel it in our battle scars."  If you've lived a peaceful, coddled little life, then maybe you don't see life as war.  If you haven't had to "choke down the most bitter morsels of life," in Nietzsche's words, then sure... you can say that life is not a war.

But if you've ever ventured out in life - to be greedy, in Gordon Gekko's words, for life, love and money - then you have undoubtedly felt the attacks of those on the other side, and perhaps even those who were supposed to be on your side.  If you've been brave enough to try to bring your dreams into reality, then you've probably experienced a nightmare or two.  If you've ever been strong enough to fight for what you believe in, then you very well may have felt the crushing blows of the opposition - people too blind to see your vision, too deaf and dumb to hear and understand it, but loud enough to silence you.

Or... were they just dumb enough to TRY to silence you?

We make our own fate.  Hannibal, Spartacus et al taught this lesson to the mightiest forces on earth at the time.  If not the ultimate validation of Nietzsche's Will to Power, is it not an irrefutable argument - empirically (and EMPHATICALLY!) supported by the blood spilled by Musashi and the lives taken by Leonidas - THAT WHEN A MAN TRULY DETERMINES HIMSELF TO DO SOMETHING, HE CANNOT BE STOPPED!

We study history in order to make history, Dr. HAHA Lung comments on the first page of Lost Arts of War.

For you to take this as seriously as you're supposed to, consider this.  The only other dude I personally know who takes Robert Greene as seriously as I do is a brother of mine who worked for years as a military interrogator.  He is the one who introduced me to the good Doctor Lung.  He did so during a time when I was hustlin' hard on a project that is now almost complete, and the despair produced by the loneliness was overwhelming me.  He had never seen my like that, and he gave me some of Lung's books.

Imagine my surprise when I saw in Lung everything that I had read before:  Ayn Rand, Robert J. Ringer, the heroes of history written about by Robert Greene.

So, if you feel how I feel, and you're pissed like I'm pissed, then there's only one thing to do.

Read.

Apply.

Get money.  A "wily bank account," in Lung's words.  Success is the best revenge (oh, how differently they would have all acted if they could've seen the future!), as Eminem says in Where I'm At.  And like he says in Soldier, why murder your enemies, when you can keep them alive so you can keep coming back to kick dirt on them?

The blueprint has already been laid out.

Out-Monster the Monster

Shout out to Christian Thibaudeau

Shout-out to T-Nation.

I'm working on my project and working out like crazy.  The general approach expressed in Six-Weeks to Superhero influences my daily workouts.  

Friedrich Nietzsche asked is it better to out-monster the monster or be quietly devoured?  

"Sometimes, what the world needs isn't another hero.  Sometimes, what it needs is a MONSTER."

  

My life is a testament to that part of a man which wills him (itself) to be something greater than himself in order to climb or crawl or cry or curse or CRUSH his way out of hell.   I am the main character in a novel if Nietzsche conveyed his ideas as Ayn Rand did.  I have been brought to the brink of what a man can take without giving up and giving in.  During my fall, which was precipitated, hastened, deepened and prolonged by those who should have been there helping me fly.

In the pit of hell, I found my true friends:  Robert Greene, Dr. HAHA Lung, and the legends they wrote about.  It has been said that Zen masters have tortured their students on the path to enlightenment.  In a twisted, beautiful way, I feel that this has occurred with me - as if my life is some sort of dark experiment being conducted by the gods.  Job from the bible, Part II.  Same players though.  God.  Satan.  Christ.  But in this story, they're more creative.

Nietzsche's involved to.  Probably the most important mortal in the tale.  Then there's Ayn Rand.  Robert J. ringer.  And Robert Greene.  And Dr. HAHA Lung.  Truth has a ring to it, doesn't it??? 

I have been traumatized by Mother Earth's waterboarding of me, but you learn important lessons at the bottom.  You learn that you ain't no real muafuckin' hustler unless you can lose it all and win it all back times a hundred motherFUCKING TRILLION.

You learn that all you need is the right people to be there for you at the right time to get back up.  You learn that all of the love you need is inside of yourself, built up positive feelings based entirely on your motherfuckin' awesomeness.


I learned that no matter how great you did, people will forget and lose respect.

Yous stupid fuckin' fucks really, truly underestimated the wrong person.  

Game of Pain

"WE STUDY HISTORY in order to make history.  And by making history, we remake history in our own image...

And so we study the histories - the actions and THOUGHTS - of those who have gone before, those singular, often solitary, all too often sinister souls who long ago forded forbidding rivers of personal doubt, who climbed over or squeezed around or else broke and blasted (and bribed?) their way past any boulder or bonehead blocking their way, dauntlessly - and ruthlessly? - carving paths through the dark wilderness of ignorance to the wisdom waiting in the clearing just beyond"  Dr. HAHA Lung, Lost Arts of War

Lung goes on to talk about how great warriors of the past - men who tasted, chewed and swallowed the most "bitter morsels of life" (that's Nietzsche) -and found the energy and determination to keep going.

Sometimes, "keeping going" is the hardest part of it.  Trust me.  I know.  I have the word WAR tattooed on my chest for a reason.  I got the tattoo on Christmas Day.  I didn't talk to anyone so-called loved ones on that day.  No one, except my Uncle, called me.

I know the pain of solitary.  I know the  game of pain.

I feel like few people see reality as I do, and this sometimes aids to the pain.  I'm caught between feelings of wanting to quietly make millions and craving praise and attention for unfuckingrecognized genius.

I've had racks.  I've hit licks.  I've made four times as much money money in a week than most people have made in a year.

I've sacrificed everything for ungrateful motherfuckers.  I've seen betrayal up close.  I've had those closest to me do things to completely try to fuck my shit up.

So just know that if I actually succeed at what I'm trying to do - what I'm making so much noise about -  I did it by pushing through repeated situations that made me want to give up, that tested my true desire for this prize.  Right now, though, it doesn't even feel like that, because it honestly seems like the only choice is:  Get rich or die trying. 

There's really nothing else to live for.  This world is cold, and unless you've been where I've been and felt what I've felt, you have no right to judge or comment about how I should feel and what I should do in response.

Just know that I'm fed up with this shit, and I'm going to do something about it.  I'm going to change this Game of Pain. 

I've learned to meditate and focus my thoughts away from what is currently attacking me.  In this way, the psychological games that people try to use against me no longer affect me, and I am prepared to defend myself both personally and in the business world.  

To Infinity - And Beyond! (first version)

If you are a hustler, if you're out here tryin' to "get it" by any means necessary, because the lessons in life have taught you motherFUCK everything but the money, this post just might inspire you.

...

My old self died a slow and painful death, and at the start of this week, I emptied my mind of past memories. I committed myself to rising with energy and aggression for the fight.  In my journal, where I write things too real even for this blog, I promised myself that, on the days key to the war, I would show my commitment to the war through my action.  I emptied my mind of all things except the war, my ultimate strategic goal, my freedom, my happiness.

It is all on the line now, I told myself:  My time is now. The glory of Ubermensch Forever begins.  I must remember the pain - all of my hospitalizations, all of the phone calls made to keep me alive, the betrayals, my justified fits of rage, all of my enemies that must not go unpunished, all of this (oh-so-attainable) glory that must not go unattained, made all the more glorious by the fact that so many would love to have it for themselves - and hate to see me get it over them.  

This week was a huge success.  For those who know me, who know where I was this week, you know of the $50,000 - $100,000+ paydays that sit at my fingertips.  You know the sacrifices I have made, including not "getting a job," as lesser men would have done.  You know what I have fought through, like the sometimes intense urge to quit and give up, as a lesser mind would have done.

I am Superman, the Ubermensch, and this week I fought through a meteor shower of proverbial Kryptonite to put myself in a position of tremendous shih, to use Sun-Tzu's terminology.

For longer than I can remember, I have had a recurring dream that coincides with the music in the video above, and the dream always goes something like this.  In the beginning, there is darkness, loneliness and pain.  As the echoes of the universe fade away, I see the faces of the men and ideas that have inspired me and given me strength in the moments when no one believed me or even understood me.  I see Robet Greene, Dr. HAHA Lung, and the legends they write about - Sun-Tzu, Musashi, Hannibal, King Alexander, Napoleon, and all of the others.  I hear Sun-Tzu's voice:  Make your plans in the dark - then strike like a thunderbolt!  I hear Atilla the Hun reminding me that what pains a man trains a man.  I hear Nietzsche urging me to out-monster the monster, lest I be quietly devoured.  I hear the scholars of warfare espousing wisdom about flexibility, mobility, guerrilla warfare.  I even see this blog, its heretofore unread words a symbolic expression of just how ignored my genius has been.

And then it happens.

The drums begin to pound, the horns to crescendo, and I see bright light, light so bright I can see the future.  I see millions and millions of dollars.  I see past the diamonds, the Ferrari, the Lamborghini, the boats, the private jets, the homes, and I see Father Nietzsche smiling, an odd sight to say the least.  He begins smiling at 1:24, and at 1:40, I hear the mighty, epic roar of a caged beast breaking through the gates of hell from the inside.  I look up, and I see nothing by the brightest of white, infinity signs traced throughout.  I see the moment of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection, blended into one moment, and I see myself dancing.

At 2:25, above the singing voices of the angels, I hear a familiar voice proclaim:  It took 13.9 billion years of cosmological and biological evolution to create me.  The end of the this journey marks the beginning of The Legend.  When I roar, may the demons in hell tremble, for not even Satan himself can stop me now.  May my resurrection illuminate the heavens.  From the darkness, I rise into epic glry.  Out of the fire, supernaturally thrust past earth's surface - Deshi Basara!  The root of all evil fuels the rising fire.  Past the moon, past the sun, screaming out of our solar system.  Crashing through meteors, blowing up stars, light years upon light years away, all the way into oblivion.  To infinity - and beyond!  

Hatred and Anger

It is sometimes said that hatred is a strong word, and usually when people say this, it is said with a cautionary tone.  Hatred is a strong word, they say, almost as if it is a warning, like the feeling in question should not really be hatred, but some watered down emotion.

I have always regarded hate as an emotion, but technically - according to dictionary.com -  it is an action.  "Extreme dislike."   That is how hate is defined.  Still, I do think that hate is an actual emotion, perhaps because I feel it so intensely.  In the 33 Strategies of War, Robert Greene advises the reader to use hatred and anger essentially as fuel, especially when extra energy is needed to pursue your goal.  As an example of a target of hatred, he mentions concentrating on someone that has fought you unfairly.  To me, this means someone that has intentionally or even unintentionally used more advanced Dirty Warfare strategies. especially in an arena or time of peace.  Hate and anger - for a person, for a group or even for an idea - can fuel you to work through the darkness, both literally (at night) and metaphorically (through bad - or the worst - of times).

Some may call the notion of identifying what you hate as wrong, perhaps even psychotic, but it is really quite wise.  And being perfectly clear about what you hate can also help you clarify what you love.  For instance, I hate powerlessness, and how people have treated me when I did not have power.  As a corollary of this, I hate disrespect, disloyalty and ingratitude, which I firmly believe are side-effects of powerlessness.  No one disrespects a man with power.  Or, perhaps more accurately, the respect you receive from people is generally in line with the level of your power.  I can only imagine that this is why Machiavelli declared that it is better to be feared than loved.  Love is a fickle emotion (as Eminem raps in the video below, it comes and goes with the wind).  In fact, Nietzsche went as far to say that love is as dead as God, in that it does not exist, and the path to enlightenment is to figure out what to do once you accept this as true.

Nietzsche. Rand. Lung.

"Simply put, keep pushing against your walls, keep testing the limits of your world.  Nietzsche.  Ayn Rand.  Does Dr. Lung look like a librarian to you?"  p. 43.  Mind-Sword.  

Time & Action

"'Human beings only use 10 percent of their brain' is a misquote.  It should read that most people only use their brain "10 percent efficiently.  Thus, you have within you abilities you've never used.  

For example, you probably don't use your time efficiently... Fifteen-minute 'doing nothings' four times add up to a full hour of your life, an hour you could spend making yourself mentally sharper and physically stronger.  

Wasted hours add up to wasted days, wasted days... a wasted life.'"  (Dr. HAHA Lung, Mind Control, The Ancient Art of Psychological Warfare, page 13, Chapter 1, The Three Knows)

Robert Greene says the same thing, but in reverse:  90% of your actions come from boredom:

In the interview, Greene points out that 50 is an extremely disciplined person who is either working or working out all of the time.

Applying this practically seems exceedingly simple.  All you have to do is... do.

Structure your goals hierarchically.  You need to hold your ultimate strategic goal - in business and in your personal life - in mind, and create subsidiary goals that lead to that ultimate strategic goal.  The ultimate strategic goal needs to be something years out into the future, and the smaller goals - the steps that lead to it - take less time, months, weeks, days.  The goals need to be broken down to the point where every literally every second is being efficiently used to accomplish what you want to do.

Mind Control

IT WAS ONCE said of the nineteenth-century philosophy firebrand Friedrich Nietzsche that "before Nietzsche, philosophy was only philosophy... after Nietzsche, philosophy became dangerous."  (1, 2)

Truth has a certain ring to it, a reverberation recognizable to the trained ear - or one might say the expert eye, in the case of the written word.  But when we read, do the words not echo in our minds, as if privately spoken to us by a voice inaudible to any ear?

Back to truth.

Two years ago, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, of self-mastery.  I left behind many of my material possessions, including a penthouse apartment on the North Side of Chicago.  Every few months, I moved from from state to state, finding shelter with friends and loved ones.  Despite my nomadic lifestyle, I lived comfortably - all things considered - because my previous endeavors in business granted me a level of financial freedom that few people enjoy (I supported myself financially, and in some cases, I supported those I stayed with.  Rarely has the converse true).

I have kept only a few belongings with me through this journey:  Studiously highlighted copies of Robert Greene's books (every one, except the Art of Seduction), heavily annotated copies of Dr. HAHA Lung's work, and usually a collection of note cards and notepads.

At this moment - and I cannot help but think that Nietzsche would appreciate this - the three L's of the Christian apologist's argument known as the "Trilemma" comes to mind.  The argument, in its basic form, goes like this:  There are only three logical explanations for the story of Jesus Christ, as expressed in the four gospels:  Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

1)  Jesus was a LIAR, and he was not who he claimed to be - the Son of God, the Messiah.

2)  He was a LUNATIC - utterly bat shit crazy - and insanely believed himself to be the Son of God.

3)  He was LORD - he really is who he said he is; he really is the Son of God, he really is the Son of God.

If you listen closely to the ideas expressed in the video above, you might begin to have a different interpretation of the Trilemma all-together.  Suppose, for the moment, that Jesus was just a mere mortal, not truly immortal - not a god at all.  Suppose LIED to himself, and simply convinced himself that he was the Son of God.  What if he was simply enough of a LUNATIC to believe that he really was LORD, and that one day, billions of knees would fall in the dirt to praise his name.

What if he simply controlled his mind, and this led him to his destiny.  In the 33 Strategies of War, Greene states that warfare begins in the strategist's mind first, hence the reason he devotes the first four chapters to self-directed warfare.  Logic says, then, that the same notion applies to the concept of Mind Control, as iterated by Dr. HAHA Lung.

To control the minds of others, one must first learn how to control his own.

1)  ~ Dr. HAHA Lung, Mind-Sword, Mastering the Asian Dark Art of Mind Manipulation.  Introduction:  Skill and Skull.

2)  For a full fleshing of the power of philosophy, I refer the reader to the statements of Ayn Rand, and also Leonard Peikoff, in Objectivism:  The Philosophy of Ayn Rand.

Prepare for Glory: Part I

This began as a response to a friend of mine who attributed a bit of his great life to luck. It ended as a rant against the worst in the world and the best in myself and my brothers. I begin by discussing a scene in the movie Wall Street, one of the films that gave me the spirit to chase glory, to pursue greatness limited only by the sky...

Riding in the back of a limousine, Gekko calls Fox's attention to two men standing on the street. One is a bum wearing rags for garb on his stooped body, and apparently lives out his days by using his hands for begging. The second is an effigy of capitalist success, expensive suit adorning his body, standing tall and proud, living his days and using his hands for handshakes. It is a dichotomy of one man living life on his knees and the other living life on his feet.

Gekko points to the two lives of utter contrast and says: "Look at that. You're going to tell me that the difference between those two men is luck???" Neither Fox nor Gekko offer a response to the inquisitive, for it is actually a declaration: luck has nothing to do with it.



Luck is for losers, the cliche goes. For losers, because the only thing standing between a loser's soul and monstrous shame is that four letter word - “luck,” a cynic’s tool to damn life as a profane and unfair game of chance: heads, a good life - tails, a bad life. For losers, so that they may scream it at the winners in a desperate attempt to drown out their conscience, which whispers truth in those painful moments of quiet honesty, reminding them of the fact that winners earned their lives - and that losers deserve theirs.

To the champion rewarded not with a trophy but with the sneer that “winning is not everything,” to the talented young man whose elders proclaim his aptitude as a "gift from God," to the precocious child star downgraded and put down as "no better than anyone else," to the hero, to the achiever, to the genius, to the victor, the virtuoso, to my brothers who are part Tyler Durden, part Leonidas, part Howard Roark, part Jack Bower, part John Galt, part James Bond - and 100% man - to any great man, woman, boy or girl who had his virtue spit on by mediocre mystics, I ask: If ours are “gifts from God,” then why did we have to practice? A “gift” is something bestowed or acquired without any particular effort by the recipient, without its being earned. Why did we have to work? Why did we have to struggle? What sort of "gift" comes wrapped in hurdles to leap over, hardships to overcome, setbacks to deal with, dues to pay, and learning curves to navigate? What sort of "gift" requires the spilling of blood, sweat and tears to achieve it?

Every rhyme of a poet’s poem, every note of a composer’s symphony, every penny of a capitalist’s wealth - every second of a good man’s life requires that he use his two weapons for survival, his shield and spear - thought and action. Like the wolf that threatened young Leonidas in the opening scene of 300, reality has teeth; if you ignore it, it will eat you alive. He who lays down his only tool for life - his mind, his shield - in favor of a rabbit’s foot, belief in luck, destiny, Karma or other such absurdity commits a slow suicide; like the man who only takes a sip of poison here and there, he does not fully die, nor does he fully live.

There is so much more to living than just staying alive; there is more than just blood to be pumped and air to be breathed. There is money to be made, happiness to be lived. There are exotic automobiles to be driven, girls to be kissed, vacations to be traveled, triumphs to be had, things coming to us to be gotten - or to forever go unclaimed. "The world," in the words of Tony Montana, "and everything in it." There is so much more to living than just staying alive; there is life to be lived.

By noose, gun or suicide pill, one may take his life at any moment - or natural causes will take care of the matter. Whenever the moment comes, when we die, we will be dead completely. You will have plenty of time for taking it easy when death calls. Take the next decades to come for living - completely. Live, or die - totally. At least do yourself the justice of making up your mind.

It is a gargantuan task, this goal of demanding every ounce of the possible from every second of your life, to stand and fight against the voices of an entire planet telling you to kneel and give up. So, what sort of creature are you? When the weight of the world presses down, mere men crumble. Atlases shrug.

Hear their command: Lay down your weapons for survival - stop thinking, stop acting. Remember the immortal response of King Leonidas to the Persian decree: “Spartans, lay down your weapons.” Come and get them. Remember his battle cry: Give them nothing. Give them nothing - not an ounce of your pride, not a bit your ego, not an iota of your self, not an inch of your property, not a penny of your wealth, not a second of your life. This is where mysticism, self-sacrifice and the ideology of suicide die: On these shields, boys!

Unlike the Spartan King, I do not hold that glory is to be had in death; it is to be had in life. Let us usher in a new age - an age of reason, an age of pride, an age of freedom, an age of love for life and the joy of living it. An age where we do not view the “meaning of life” as an unknowable enigma, answered only with the labyrinthine riddles of some Eastern monk on the top of a mountain, in the creed of self-sacrifice and suicide, or in the meaningless jabberwocky of an ancient sophist - an age where we know that the meaning of life is: life. Life, and living it to the fullest and happiest - and knowing that in living such a life, luck has nothing to do with it. Let us embrace an age where we reject the mental straitjackets of the dark ages, and the philosophical shackles that bind man’s life to slavery, self-sacrifice and suicide. Let us spread our wings and fly.

Let us chase glory. Let us pursue greatness limited only by the sky. To paraphrase one man's words to Howard Roark: I look forward to our futures and seeing how high we will soar. I am an astronomy enthusiast, you see.

Nothing left over...

"And so onward, along a path of wisdom, with a hearty tread, a hearty confidence.  However you may be, be your own source of experience.  Throw off your discontent about your nature.  Forgive yourself your own self.  You have it in your power to merge everything you have lived through – false starts, errors, delusions, passions, your loves and your hopes – into your goal, with nothing left over."  ~Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm gonna shine so bright, it's going to blind you stupid ass motherfuckerz

At this very moment, if I were to unleash all of the hatred and rage that has built up inside of me over all these years, I would end up destroying everything I have worked so hard to build.

Early in the game, I promised myself that - 'til I collapsed - I would endure the criticisms and refutations of lesser minds - all ignorantly and arrogantly convinced that an outsider couldn't possibly know their game better than them.  For so long, I have fought to bite my tongue, struggled to choke back the fire.  "Suffering fools gladly," as Robert Greene says, is something that I have always found difficult.  I suffer them angrily.  I am so sick of you stupid, cocky fucks, with your wack ass, bullshit $40,000 - $300,000 salaries acting as though you know so GOD DAMN MUCH about how this industry works.

"You wait, it ain't too late to finally see what you closed minded fucks were to blind to see."