My Story

Hi. I welcome you. My motivation to write the ebook is to help younger generations adapt to meet their unique challenges. I learned a lot from previous generations, especially those that lived through the Great Depression and World Wars. Inspirational with life lessons that make it impossible for me to complain or whine about my little hardships.

Below are some of my life experiences that can serve as case-studies for the ebook chapters. I progressed slowly by making every possible mistake so at the end only wisdom survived the journey. Give me the benefit of the doubt that it is not me bragging to boost a fragile ego. I will tell you the truth about me. The good, bad, and the ugly. This will become apparent, so read on. I hope you find it entertaining. The goal for you is to translate the lessons I learned to your own life so you can bypass the many and myriad traps that conspire to prevent you from living a happy free life.

If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.
 

Lesson 1. We should all thank the Giants that preceded us.

I am not young but still spry, as they say. One of over 70 million post-war happy babies. Lots of us were raised like prized petunias in shiny new vast suburbias that sprouted up like weeds across the country. We were raised isolated from the rest of the (only) 4 Billion Homo Sapiens on the planet.

We were raised in a bubble. It looked real but was an artificial construct that was destined to change in myriad and unpredictable ways. We were fed, safe, and secure. Our parents knew hunger and want and did everything possible for us not to experience it. They were all heroes.

Our suburban bubble was isolated from the not-middle class, I never actually met a Black person until after high school. And the Big City (Detroit) was just miles away with its ghettos and chaos. I never met a Jew that I knew of. We were all Protestants and some Catholics. There was one Hispanic guy. Maybe an Asian, I don’t recall. We did however have an albino. He played drums like a pro and stayed out of the sun. That was our diversity.
 
Lesson 2. We don’t see the little reality bubbles we live in.

It was working class / lower-middle class. Almost every dad worked at an auto company. Foreign cars were as rare as daisies in the cold Midwest winters. Funny story… the PE teacher in junior high was a big, burly, mean gruff guy. He would torture us and laugh. I couldn’t do squat and was his favorite target. He matched me up with vicious little bastards in wrestling and laughed as they choked me out.

We would see him squeeze into a tiny BMW Isetta 300 with one front-opening door. This while surrounded by American cars that were huge behemoths. It was like the Shriner’s parade with their little toy cars buzzing around like flies on a picnic. It was hilarious, but nobody laughed to his face.
 

Lesson 3. If you know who you are you can be yourself.

I was Malcom-in-the-Middle. Older brother and sister, younger brother and sister. The first child is exciting, then another and another and parents get bored. The youngest are the last hurrahs and are babied. I was on my own.

I watched Laurel and Hardy, the 3 Stooges, WC Fields and the rest. I intuitively sensed that comedy was a key. To get noticed I would tell jokes. Lame jokes at first. I was ignored. I tried again. Got a chuckle or two. Practiced and soon I was a crackup. King of the dinner table. This skill came in handy later to get noticed by the girls when surrounded by bigger guys.
 

Lesson 4. Blow your own horn or there will be no music.

My dad worked his way up from poor immigrant’s son, 8th-grade dropout, to factory rat, to industrial sales guy, to aircraft parts factory owner. He was a millionaire by 29 in the mid-60s. That would be $10 million today. He surfed the tsunami as the post-war pent-up demand exploded. Everybody needed and wanted everything at the same time. If you could produce they would line up to buy. He and many other ambitious young men built their fortunes and were eager to spend them.

I watched without understanding as we moved from the lower class side of town to the middle class. We could afford cars and vacations. He really got going after I was 15 and he bailed on the family to live the Rat Pack life in Florida, Vegas, and the Bahamas, so I didn’t live the extravagant life growing up. I remained middle class while he hobnobbed with the other rich white guys. C’est la vie.

I remember we were discussing a topic he disagreed with. Here is what he told me to “prove” he was right…. If you’re so smart why didn’t you make 7 Million dollars last year? I was stunned. Hard to argue with that logic. He got married young following society’s unspoken dictates. He should have stayed single.

I remember he took me to lunch one day. He parked out front of a restaurant. The sign said No Stopping or Parking. I pointed it out as he exited and slammed the car door. “Signs are for other people,” he said. Yes indeed.

The apples don’t fall down far from the tree. I see my Dad when I look in the mirror. I have his mannerisms. I inherited his ambition and disdain for conformity. If he would have followed the sheep in front of him he would have stayed in the factory as a wage-slave. If you like my messages you can thank him first.
 

Lesson 5. Signs are for other people.

I was small and got picked on by the junior-high thugs. But I was smart. I used to scout the little ads in the back pages of Popular Mechanics, intrigued by bullshit promises of muscles and money. I liked to collect little knives. They were sold mail order. I guessed they would not sell to kids. I was wrong. They couldn’t care less. I bought 10 at a time and sold them to the thugs. Thus my first career as an arms merchant was launched. The thugs put me on their protected-species list. If I was hassled they would beat the perp’s ass to next Sunday.

I did what is now called side hustles: shoveling snow, mowing grass, waxing cars … whatever to make a buck. That was good practice for when I started selling pot later. And in my later sales career.
 

Lesson 6. Afer the big dinosaurs went extinct the small mammals took over.

Like many thousands of kids mesmerized by the Beatles and the other Brit bands, I joined the garage-band era. I took guitar lessons. I played along with the Ventures. I was infatuated with the California dream while existing in a dreary, flat, gray landscape with black snow on the street from pre-smog cars.

I couldn’t play worth shit so got a bass guitar instead. I had found there was a big demand for bass players as everybody wanted to be up-front and famous. I learned how to fake it until I got good. I got lots of offers from bands and could pick and choose., A valuable lesson later when I discovered commission-only sales.

As a natural born showman I hung an American Flag across my huge dual 15 inch JBL cabinet that was taller than I was. The flag would bounce hysterically as I played. The kids in their blissful ignorance bought my BS performance. A lesson I never forgot that played out the rest of my life in countless ways.

So I was 14 and a rock star in our little bubble. We played junior-high sock hops, high-school dances, and then the big time at huge teenage dance nightclubs (no alcohol). We got paid and came in second place out of 10 in the Battle of the Bands, hosted by the big AM station WKNR.
 

Lesson 7. Fake it till you make it.

I did good in school until 10th grade when I was 15, smack dab in the middle of the ’60s thing. The threat of imminent nuclear holocaust loomed over our psyches, so we tended to think short-term and instant gratification. Get it before it’s gone.

At 16 I started smoking pot. I was like the factory chimneys. High school soon looked like grade school with the little desks all lined up and the 3-foot-high drinking fountains. I faked my way through the first half of 11th grade and then stopped caring. I dropped out midway through 12th grade. My dad didn’t even notice, and my mom (a true saint) had her own issues from being left for bimbos after many grueling years raising four kids and getting yelled at if the house wasn’t spotless when random dad showed up to sleep it all off.

We would go to the Grande Ballroom in Detroit with 5 lids in each boot and a pocket full of pills. Sold out in 10 minutes. I got to see the big name bands at a profit. Who says crime doesn’t pay?
 

Lesson 8. Who says crime doesn’t pay?

I loved cars and would go to the illegal street races on Northline by the Airport. This was at the peak of the 60’s muscle car mania. Hemi Roadrunners flat out until somebody won or crashed.

My dad bought me a VW Bug early for graduation. I kept it although I never graduated. Take that Sinatra! He was smart as hell. If he would have got me a Hemi I would be dead. I installed mag wheels and an extractor exhaust. It was enough so nobody could be sure if it was stock. One night the cars were lining up two-by-two. I said what the hell and got in line. Next to me was a jacked-up Nova with a 327. I was doomed. But wait, it started to drizzle and the road starting getting slicked up. Iw as eleated. My litle rear-engine bug excelled in bad weather traction. The Nova had perfomance tires with no grip. I laughed like a maniac. The flag went down and I launched it like a jackrabbit on speed. The Nova spon its tires helplessly. The crowd went wild. Cheers and jeers. I was a hero for all of 3 mintues. Who needs a hemi when you had chutzpah?

Swarms of County Sheriffs would come to scatter us. They were outnumbered. They installed No Sopping / Standing/ Parking signs which were ignored. In exasperation they closed and fenced off the entire road. We broke in and dragged. They put in speed bumps every 20 feet. We raced and crashed more. Finally the literally dug up the road. The races were over except for the 4-wheeler who took over… That road is still there but you would not know it…all you will see now is straggly-ass grass and rocks, surrounded by barbed-wire fence.
 

Lesson 9. Bullshit and bravado will win the day.

After my Dad left to be Frank Sinatra, I was free to do whatever I wanted. He wouldn’t allow me to have a motorcycle in the city. I brought my Honda 305 back from up north and rode it to high school. Motorcycles were associated with gangs and vilified. You meet the nicest people on a Honda was not part of the Zeitgeist yet. I literally had drivers try to run me off the road. My dirt bike experience paid off.

A friend got an apartment in Detroit by Wayne State. I lived there on and off starting when I was 16. When I ran out of money or needed to crash out from overdosing on pot I would go back to the suburbs to my old room. It felt really small. At 17 I left to do road trips. Daytona Beach, Mardi Gras, California…don’t ask me for details because it’s all a drug-addled blur.

I sold pot and went to jail for a few days. Now it’s legal. Go figure. Here’s what happened. I was 17. We were sitting around stoned on hashish and acid. One of us said we should drive to Dallas and sell a few pounds of low-grade weed and a few hundred tabs. We would then buy horses in New Mexico and ride them to Canada. It sounded like a great idea at the time.

We rolled into town and within 10 minutes were pulled over by the police. No coincidence, since we were a bunch of straggly-looking hippies in a van from Michigan. So we ended up in jail. My dad was mad but not really. I think he liked to see me out there doing crazy shit. He bailed me out. The state of Texas thought it only fair to confiscate my van and all my stuff. Get this. We stuffed an ounce under the dash that they never found. Some poor schmuck bought the van at a police auction and was driving around clueless. Hope he never got pulled over!
 

Lesson 10. Don’t do drugs… drugs are bad m’kay.

So the ’60s ended. I was an 18-year-old high-school dropout in ’72 when the economy tanked after Vietnam ended and the bills came due. I tried to get my diploma at night school and quit. I took the GED later and scored 100. It was a joke. I wasn’t stupid, just bored and stoned. I had no marketable traditional job skills.

I was also a convicted felon on 5 years probation. For possession of an ounce of pot. Texas don’t F around. The Sun behind the clouds was that when I registered for the draft I was declared 4F. Paraplegics and the blind were 4F too, so I was in good company. The Vietnam war as winding down and my cohort was the last to get cards and the draft ended before any more bingo numbers were announced on TV.

I took a bunch of crap jobs. Dishwasher (lasted three days), gofer at a factory (for two days – I got fired when I said unions were stupid). I got a gig at a steel foundry. I was told to use an electric hoist to lift huge truck-axle castings and hit them with a sledgehammer to get the sand out. They did not offer my a pension for my 2 weeks of hard labor. I had an epiphany. I vowed to leave Detroit or die trying.

I drove up and down streets for months applying whenever I saw Help Wanted signs. They took a good look at me and passed. I would not have hired me either. I quit getting high and cut my hair. I got a real job at last and learned how to fix office machines. I was like a duck in water. I found a niche. It was a stepping stone, a floor that ensured I never ended up in a factory again. From that point forward the worst that could happen is I would go back to fixing copiers and typewriters.
 

Lesson 11. Build a floor under your ass.

I took my little GED and enrolled in community college. I started with business classes, a natural extension of my arms mechant and drug dealer days. I got all A’s. I was desperate to get to the next level and get out of D-E-T-R-O-I-T. I worked full-time and went to classes at night. I was bipolar but didn’t know it. I had more energy than the sun. I learned Transcendental Meditation and would bliss out it in my car in the college parking lot before classes. I was awake until midnight.

My saintly mother suggested that I study electronics. I had no real plans so I did that. Again I was like a squirrel in an oak tree. I got all A’s. I ended up finishing all the programs I started. I picked up an automotive tech degree too, because like I said, I loved cars. I ended up with four associate degrees — all summa cum laude. By the way I paid cash with no loans.
 

Lesson 12. Ladders are climbed step-by-step.

I discovered that I could bust my bubble and decide where to live. I found that I-94 West turned into I-80 West and kept going. California sounded crazy, so I decided to move to Oregon. Why? Because it was far, far away from Detroit. That’s why.

I got married to a “good girl” when I was 19 and she was 18. Why? Because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. She was a nursing student. I paid her way to finish a BS. We moved to Oregon two weeks after I graduated. I bought an International Scout II and pulled a U-Haul trailer west. That was the start of a long list of places I ended up.

We were in Portland and she had a good job. I found it quite easy to get tech jobs. I did final assembly and testing of industrial laser systems, engineering tech at a pacemaker manufacturer, then at a truck manufacturer, then field service of blood chemistry analyzers, flying around Oregon and Idaho. I was hopping from job to job like a crazed rabbit on meth. I was always looking for my next step up and was not waiting around to get a pension when I was too old to live.

One day I happened to see a job ad in her nursing magazine for a hospital in Saudi Arabia. I jokingly asked her if she would go. She said OK. We applied and were both quickly hired. This was a brand-new hospital and the recruiting agency needed 800 hires right away. Two weeks later a moving van showed up to get our stuff to put it in storage. We were on the way to the airport to start a two-year contract.

It was exciting at first — just experiencing a completely different place and culture. Then it was boring. We were stuck there. We took a few vacations and got to see some of the world while being paid, not racking up credit card debt for a few selfies at tourist traps. This was real and memorable for two young people in their 20s. It changed me. I became more bold and strove to find ways to get more out of life.

I could have stayed all cozy in the hometown but ventured out into the unknown with no guarantees. I did not mention that I started to read a lot and explore esoteric concepts at 17. Many hundreds of sci-fi novels got me interested in science and got my reading skills so that college was easy. While high I read books on the meaning of life. I read Vonnegut when a character said that Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. That is what took me to Oregon, Saudi Arabia, and beyond.

Lesson 13. Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.

Upon our return I decided Colorado sounded interesting. Never been there. I was in no mode to return to rainy Portland. Moved without visiting first so that it would all be new. On a whim I enlisted in the Army. I didn’t tell my wife until after. I always had this idea to see if I could do it and had to act before I got any older.

I was at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. I arrived over Easter. I called home and surprise! She was pregnant.

Basic was brutal in the 80’s. I got “lucky” and the drills were all Airborne and crazy. They turned up the volume to 11. In the chow line I skipped the plates and piled everything I could and had 5 minutes to eat what was probably 5,000 calories. I lost 40 ponds in 12 weeks from 18 hour days and stress. I got pneumonia coughed up what looked like green jello. I soldiered on because if I didn’t want to get recycled and spend more time being tortured. It made the forced marches and endless PT even more entertaining.

The constant wind blew sand in my eye and scratched my cornea. I did the grenade course with one eye. I had no depth perception. Whoopee! The Summer arrived with 118 degree heat and near 100% humidity . Ever wear a MOP suit and run in a steam bath?

One day they marched us to a 160 foot high cliff and said we could volunteer to rappel it. I was scared of heights. Everybody was looking at each other to see who would go first. I didn’t want to go but knew if I didn’t I would regret it for the rest of my life. Hell I signed up for it. That was the whole point. I stood up. All eyes were on me. I could not sit back down so put one foot in front of the other to the cliff base and hiked to the top. They wrapped a rope around my waist, threaded it through a D-Ring, told me to turn my back to the cliff, hang my heals over the edge and jump off. I was light years beyond terrified. My mind was screaming. I came to the conclusion that the only solution was to turn my brain off. So I did. I jumped and suddenly was joyous. This was balls out fun. I reached a platform where the D-Ring was in my back for the last 60 feet doing Australian. No hands on the rope. Just face forward and fall running down the cliff. I was giddy and laughing all the way down. That took care of my fear of heights forever. Mission accomplished.

Here is what I gained. For every challenge and hardship that came after I knew deep down that I could persevere and prevail. I had earned an inner strength that cannot be bought. The road forward was paved.
 
Lesson 14. You can endure and do more than you know so find out.

We had over $100,000 saved from Saudi. We banked pretty much every dime and had a free condo, no taxes, subsidized food, and free transportation. I got out of the Army early with the birth of my son since my wife worked nights as a nurse and transferred to the Colorado Army National Guard.

I enrolled at university and decided to major in physics. Here’s why. It was the most difficult major possible to make things worthwhile, not because it would help my career, but primarily because it would ground me to further understand reality and metaphysics.

I got money from the Guard and combined with getting merit scholarships for my 4.0 GPA and cheap tuition, I graduated with no debt. When I graduated with high distinction, only one of just 17 graduates that year, I got a full-ride scholarship to U of M plus a paid research assistant gig to get my MS in engineering with no debt. Let me say here that it was a really difficult road that almost killed me, studying 14 hours a day. But it didn’t kill me. It made me stronger.

Since I used to be beat up and bullied as a kid, while in college in Colorado I decided to study karate. I was half crazy from the Army and became obsessed with mastering it. I got my black belt in under two years. This was a private club and cost me nothing. I taught the ranks below, and those above taught me, to perpetuate the art. One of the students was a green belt when I started and remained a green belt when I earned black. Why? Because he was a poser and lazy. My Sensei got fed up and invited me to make him quit. I would beat the hell out of him without mercy, and behold, he did quit. It was his fault for not learning how to block kicks and punches after a few years wasting everybody’s time. He was given the chance over and over and over. One last lesson and he was gone. Commercial dojos would have let him stay if he kept paying. We did not demand money, only dedication. Sayonara.

These challenges changed my life trajectory from loser, to mediocrity, to satisfaction, and a habit of not necessarily winning but surviving. I lost more times in my life than I won. Why? Because I tried more difficult things that surprised me as much as anyone. I won by developing perseverance and self-reliance. That’s the real win. I would think back at the guys I grew up with, knowing that they ended up staying where they were born, with jobs at factories, with no security or accomplishments. The easy way turned out to be the hard way — and vice versa.
 

Lesson 15. Rewards come from taking the hard roads.

My first wife, who seemed like a good choice because she was like my mother, left me after 17 years without a word. She was cheating on me for a year. She planned her soft-landing exit and stranded me in shock and depression. I lost my son (first child) and everything else.

I called my dad. Here’s what he said: “If your dog dies… get another dog.” It was blunt and wise. He should know, he was going on to his fourth wife. This sage advice pulled me out of a tailspin. I was left to finish college and had to use all my savings and sell my house. I was broke and needed to find a job quick. I decided that by the end of the year I would have a new job paying me over $100,000, a new younger prettier wife with bigger titties, and would leave Detroit again to go back West. I did all three in eight months. My previous challenges paved the way for the next.

I went back to Colorado, bought a new house, and then continued the commission-only sales job I started in Detroit. After my first year there I became the number-one rep out of over 300 at a tech startup. I made between $10K and $20K a month to support my new wife and first child.

I ended up traveling to California, which reawakened my surfer dreams from when I was 14. I requested a transfer. I said I wanted to move to Marin County, just north of San Francisco, where the money lived. The regional manager knew I would make his numbers but said the territory was already given to another rep. I said, “So what?” He laughed. He fired that guy and I moved in. Fuck him if he couldn’t take a joke.

Child number three and four followed. I was supporting a young wife, three kids there and one from before, in one of the most expensive cities in the country, as a commission-only sales rep with no net. Dancing lessons from God indeed. I turned off the fear and just hustled.
 

Lesson 16. If your dog dies… get another dog.

I quit the sales gig to start my own agency. I built sales teams for all the new Internet startups. I got invited into a startup in 2000 just as the bottom fell out and the Internet economy tanked. All the funded startups went broke. The geniuses moved back to Iowa to live in their parents’ basements. We did not get any free money. We did it on actual sales. I built the team to over 150 reps and got to $2 million a month. We were one of the few games left in the entire Bay Area. Reps that were trainable and ambitious were making $10,000 a month and buying up cheap real estate. I was making $20,000 a month, bought a little sports car and a $300,000 house for $960,000.

I kept it going with many other clients. My young wife decided to go back to work when the kids were all in school. She got good tech jobs and worked her way up. I paid the high rent she picked up the utilities. I paid for everything but her salon visits. My money was our money while her money was her money. At the time I didn’t mind that much as I was on a roll.

Then as she grew older she fantasized about the life she could have had if she had not spent her 20’s married early and having kids. She devalued the life she did have. Wouldn’t it be more fun to be a social justice warrior and not just a drone for a tech behemoth. While I was busy being a big-shot in a growing Internet company she dyed her hair blue and attended the protest of the week in the all-so-enlightened and virtuous Bay Area. She marched with the other middle-aged liberal women trying to regain their glory days on the front lines. She indoctrinated the kids with socialist dribble. She called me a Boomer like it was an insult. She turned the kids against me for being a libertarian and belittled me for voting for Trump.
 

Lesson 17. Beware blue hair.

I was cut off emotionally and physically. I was systematically removed as an equal parent, a father in name only and not allowed to advise or discipline. How? Because she made threats if I tried. She could make a phone call and government agencies would descend like a plague of locusts on my head,

I took it as long as I could and decided to leave. I was angry. In the way out I told her loudly exactly what I really thought and that I was gone. Here’s a strange quirk that she had from her borderline personality disorder, narcissism, and paranoid PTSD from a deprived childhood. All formerly diagnosed with prescriptions to match.

In her warped little mind, if offered a different opinion I was yelling at her. If I raised my voce I was attacking her. If I yelled I was hitting her. I never hit her but I suppose that would be killing her. So naturally, she called the cops and accused me of “hitting” her. In domestic disputes the police are legally required automatically respond to arrest one of the parties. Take a guess how many times the woman is selected?

That’s right. So I got cuffed, arrested and thrown into jail. I had to pay for a bail bond. There was no signs of battery but that was not an issue. A restraining order came with the deal. Now I was kicked out of my house and had to pay for motels. As this dragged on I had to rent an apartment. I was still expected to pay all of the household expenses for her and the kids. Her mental disorders distorting reality were never brought up. The system didn’t care as I was already guilty.

I hired a female lawyer who held my hand while I was processed like a steer in our legal slaughterhouse system. I had no idea that it was possible to lose my freedom and rights without practical recourse. The prosecutor bumped up what started as simple battery to felony assault. Then they offered me the deal of the century. I would plead back to the misdemeanor. No promises as to whether I would get a jail term too.

My lawyer advised me to plead. If I insisted on justice, a fair trial, I would be the bad wolf and she the innocent lamb. I would be convicted of a felony with sure thing jail time. This would be the case anywhere but California hates men and creates a system where they have no rights. So I plead guilty. I got 2 years probation and slave labor (community service). I was openly derided and vilified in court and had to take it. Luckily since I cooperated like a good little boy there was no jail time.

She won. I could not leave because of probation. I could not leave anyway because of all the money I spent. I was trapped. Worse, from that point on she had me by the balls (not in a good way). I was one accusation from automatic jail time. Event worse, I was still sympathetic because she was batshit crazy. I could not hold her completely accountable. And worse yet, I loved her.
 

Lesson 18. Accusation = Conviction.

I had 4 kids and not one will talk to me. They are estranged. Which means while I was once a loving Father, I am now worse than some vagrant off the street. I have ceased to exist in their minds. I am invisible and mostly forgotten. Never mind the sacrifices I made to allow them to live in nice places, well fed and educated. Why is this? I may not be perfect but could not withstand the undermining of two previous wives who hate me and ensured that they would monopolize the relationships with OUR children for reasons they won’t even communicate.

They do this at the peril of the children they profess to care so much about. They robbed them of a father who loves them and desperately wants to be part of their lives. I have much to offer. I actually enjoyed being a Dad. They would gain by having two parents instead of just one.

If I try to contact them I will be attacked and persecuted. The system and law is on their side. The ex-wives threaten to file restraining orders against me. These are issued by courts who couldn’t care less about fathers. They are issued virtually automatically for any or no reason at all. Nothing is verified. I have no voice and it is senseless to fight it. A restraining order may sound trivial, but it can be followed up by accusations that I contacted or threatened them or the kids and thus violated the court order. This requires no proof. You can take it to court but that would require paying lawyers to fight without any chance of winning. With previous legal accusations I would be subject to jail terms.

So I wait without much hope that my children will see the light and contact me before I die. Not much chance.
 

Lesson 19. Your kids are not yours.

The BS pandemic came and my business stopped cold. I spent my savings and ruined my credit to float the family. She had a $180,000-a-year job. She became increasingly condescending and arrogant. She rented an apartment without telling me when the lockdowns started. She bought into the scam and donned masks and gloves. She bailed with no notice with the excuse that she knew I would not go along with the mania so had to protect the kids. She was sly and strategic. She convinced the apartment management to take her off the lease. She got a new lease with clear credit. I couldn’t pay as I was broke.

She was smart enough to know that I would take the hit and not be able to get a new more affordable apartment in my name only, even if I had any money which I didn’t. Obviously she did not care. She had saved her money and furnished her new home extravagantly. She actually said I should try to get housing assistance from the County.

She disposed of me like yesterday’s garbage after a 30-year marriage, three kids, and me supporting for most years. I spent all my money trying to get her to love me again. My love was turned against me as weakness. I gradually learned about what a narcissist is. I had never thought about it before.

I was destitute and suicidal. I bought a handgun but had to wait weeks before I could pick it up since government agencies shut down. I prayed for a way out and felt a force leading me to move to save my life.

I moved back to Colorado with the little money I had left. It was a safe space for me to regroup and recover. I was numb. It was pure blind faith. It was divine intervention. From that point everything started to go my way. I got a contract so I could pay the rent. In a few months I met the woman I had prayed for during the dark days of my marriage. A British nurse, brought up right. Raised by conservative and sensible parents. She saw through my downfall and stayed with me while I recovered my sanity. We are together now after six years and very happy.
 

Lesson 20. God always has your back… just ask.

The eBook chapters are for the most part autobiographical. I felt compelled to share my experiences as a case study in hope — to have faith that your life can be salvaged from the depths. Your situation may be better or worse. Comparing lives is futile, as they are never comparable. We are on our personal, unique journeys.

Stay with it and you will emerge victorious. We are never alone. We are cheered on by unimaginably powerful, benevolent forces. We live in a strange world that we volunteered to challenge. It is not an accident that you are reading this now, when you need it most.
 

Lesson 21. Discover on your own lessons.

Disclaimer: If I was doing this for money I would charge fees, offer endless premium upgrades and sell you and your data down the river. However I don’t charge fees, offer upgrades or collect and sell data. You can flip me a coin if you want (Feed Bud). I will spend whatever I get frivolously with abandon on nonessential items.

I am anonymous. Why? Because I want to be free to say whatever I want to and believe in without worrying about some nutcase stalking me down because I challenged his worldview on economics, religion or social niceties. You are anonymous too, so we are even. You want the truth and that’s what you get. None of us wants more politically acceptable BS and hedging. We want to be free. I am. So are you.

My target audience is purposely and admittedly young men. This is because I propose rational arguments, not emotional. 99% of women live by their feelings. Emotions. Check under the skirt of the remaining 1%. Also because young men have been and are being persecuted for the high crimes and treason of being masculine and independent. For not obeying the social pressures of a society increasingly dominated by leftist, feminist women for their own benefit. For opting out rather than being exploited. I have no interest in perpetuating their oppressive system of control and manipulation.

And since I am not driven by monetary gain I won’t pander to women and sell out for a few silver coins. They have their own safe places and propaganda sites. This is not a hater diatribe and if you want reinforcement or validation for your failures, misogyny or spite please go away. There will be no whiners or doom fetishists. This site is not driven by popular vote. There will be no comments section for trolls and bots to argue pointlessly and endlessly. Instead you can simply go elsewhere if I am not delivering value and truth.

No I don’t hate women. In fact I love women but not at the expense of the other half of humanity. I have had a mother, sisters, aunts, girlfriends, daughters and wives. I still do. The majority honest, admirable and loving. In fact I encourage you not give up dreams of a happy marriage and family. We are meant to do this. Just do it with your eyes wide open to minimize your risks.
 

Lesson 22. Your life and happiness is up to you regardless of what others do.