‘’WE CAN’T AFFORD IT!’’  

Several decades ago, when I was just getting a good start in business, my then wife was also my then(!) bookkeeper. She had a small staff and altogether, we had some 56 employees at that time. Meeting the weekly payroll was always a challenge, and any extra cash was truly a precious commodity.

It can be costly to promote any business and direct mail can be exorbitantly expensive (until we developed certain unique DAX-Methods which are universally employed today!)

Anyway, I’d try to sock away a few thousand bux for a particular promotion now and then only to discover (on far too many occasions) that when it came time to go to the money well - it was pretty much dried up. It seems that the wife, seeing all that extra $$ in our account, felt it was fair game and all of sudden I’d go home to find fresh carpeting installed, several pieces of new furniture and such - all which we did not need and I certainly did not want!

Her justification, when confronted, was ‘’Hey! The money is there so it’s not like we’re charging the purchases!’’ Sort of similar thinking to another wife who once said (when I suggested that there might not be enough $$ in her personal account to cover a check she’d written) ‘’Don’t worry - I can write even more checks - there are several left in the book!’’ YIKES!

(Speaking of ‘’dumb wives’’ - and somehow I managed to have several - did I ever tell you about the one who took all four dozen of my expensive pipes - some costing $1,000.00 each - submersed them in hot soapy water - and then, placed them ever so neatly on racks to dry in a 400 degree oven?!)

Many years ago I read an article in Reader’s Digest which stuck with me. A story was told about a young couple, deep in debt, who were having difficulty saying ‘’no’’ to just about anything and everything financial. They spent money they did not have on expensive Christmas and Birthday gifts, took exotic vacations, bought new cars frequently, etc.

Before long they were in serious financial trouble, but they had the good sense to seek counsel with a professional credit advisor. The first thing he instilled in their heads was the need to say and heed the phrase, ‘’We Can’t Afford It!’’ Did not much matter what the ‘’it’’ was - they were to just realize that at this stage in the monetary miseries there was little of anything they could afford.

I guess the story had a happy ending - most R.D. stories do - but as I say, I remembered that phrase and on several occasions have employed it myself - even when the actual fact was that I COULD afford (whatever). The point is, we can all get caught up in acquiring ‘’stuff’’ whether we need it or not: We just do it out of habit.

Another phrase I learned that is helpful came about from a lousy lawyer I once knew. He owned the building where I had offices at the time and he was one of those people who was ‘’REALLY full of himself.’’ This man, who ostensibly was a WWII Air Force pilot would have you believe there was absolutely nothing he did not know. He would talk and talk and talk about any subject as if he had earned a Ph.d. in it. ANY subject.

You could ask him about nuclear fission and his discourse on the topic would have the casual observer believing that he’d taught Enrico Fermi everything he knew. Anyway, the more I got to know him the more I realized he was not only basically ignorant of most important subjects, he was also somewhat of a dullard and downright rude and crude.

Somewhere along the line I decided to ‘’trip him up’’ - mostly for the fun of it, and I got my chance one day when he came back to my office to again bother me with tales of his bombing sorties over Germany (his favorite one being where he returned to his base and noticed a funny smell only to discover half a German soldier sticking out from his plane’s engine compartment).

As soon as there was a lull I asked, ‘’Who was in charge of the Luftwaffe during World War Two?’’ There was a long pause and finally he responded sheepishly, ‘’I don’t know.’’ To which I replied, ‘’Hmmmm . . . words to learn by.’’

Since then, any time that I do not know the answer to something (and that is frequently) I simply say, ‘’I don’t know - do you?’’ Or better still, when you are dealing with someone whom you have reason to believe is somewhat of an expert in a particular field, just be attentive and a bit clueless and ASK that person to explain (whatever) to you and you will generally receive a plethora of really good, helpful data - poured your way freely and with good spirit.

People usually enjoy showing or telling or explaining or teaching others something they know - especially, when they sense that the other person does not know. It’s human nature. Makes one feel good. Take advantage of it, I do - often.

Meanwhile, be sure to voice often those four very liberating words I mentioned earlier: ‘’We Can’t Afford It!’’ Who knows how much angst and grief employing those words may save you . . .

-Dean

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SO MANY EARTH-SHAKING EVENTS - SO LITTLE TIME . . .

April of last year found SuEllen and myself scooting around Europe - although, we never did have time for the proverbial ‘’April In Paris.’’ (I’ve been there 7 or eight times and S.E.’s been there a couple, so that was no great loss.)

Anyway, we were in London (which as DAX-DOERS know - because I’ve pointed it out a few times - is not in Europe - although, even some Brits are ignorant of that fact!) - for the wedding of Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles, which was originally scheduled for Friday, the 8th, as you may recall.

Unfortunately, the ceremony had to be postponed due to the massive funeral of Pope John Paul II, which took place that day. Therefore, S.E. and I buzzed over to Rome to pay our respects and help represent the Yanks, although of course, neither of us is Catholic. Just seemed like the thing to do, especially after Laura, the First Lady, personally phoned and made the request of S.E.

Anyway, back to the Royal nuptials, which by necessity, were held the next morning - on Saturday: Chuck (as I call the Prince) and I go way back. I well remember when he was born and though I was but a lad of nine at the time, I recall fondly bouncing him on my knee a few times whilst visiting Buckingham with my family:

My late mother was born Grace Daisy McCrow in Eling, England - in 1904 - the same year the venerable Rolls-Royce was ‘’born.’’ Her father was a much-honored ‘’Bobby’’ (metro policeman) and was personally decorated by Queen Elizabeth’s pappy, King George VI.

There were a couple of amusing things that occurred during the wedding ceremony: First, S.E. did not attend, as there was room in the city hall for just 30 of us. Instead, she spent the morning at Windsor Castle with the Queen and Prince Phillip (who is definitely not as stuffy an old fop as people think!) S.E. says they had tea and crumpets - ‘’Swell, said I.’’

By the way, that whole group joined the rest of us for a nice church ceremony later - and one of the oddest things of all, my old ‘’friend,’’ Joan Rivers showed up, as well! No kidding. I put ‘’friend’’ in quote marks there, because on the one hand, I have her to thank for introducing me years ago to the delights of ALTOIDS (’’Curiously Strong’’) but also, she cost me a cool hundred grand when I invested in her ill-fated movie starring Billy Crystal called, ‘’Rabbit Test.’’ But per usual, I digress . . .

At one point on the way to the initial festivities, I was on that darn mini-bus you probably saw on the teevee - no Rolls-Royces even though we’re in the place where the dang things were invented and despite the fact, I had contributed to the Royal coffers by purchasing three of the costly beasts over the years!

By happenstance, I was seated way in the very back seat next to Prince Harry. Prince William was a couple rows forward. The cameras zoomed in on the back of our heads, and some wag mistook ME for Prince William - assuming that he was sitting next to his lil’ bro, Harry - and thus, everybody in the media started talking about how Prince William was starting to go bald in the back!

Hey! That was me - and as Garfield (the cat) used to say, ‘’I resemble that remark!’’

They decided to call Camilla The Duchess of Cornwall - much better than the ‘’Winner of the Preakness’’ as one detractor suggested! (No, she does not look like a horse in person - she just does not photograph very well - as so many of us do not). She can thank yours truly for her new title:

Chuck had rung me up a few months earlier and wanted my opinion on the issue, as ’twas quite a pickle he found himself in: After all, most Brits loved Princess Di who was officially, the Princess of Wales, so naturally, Camilla could not presume to take that title.

I suggested to Chuck that the new wife be called the Duchess of Cornwall, since the Duke of Cornwall was his own other principal title - aside, of course, from the Prince of Wales.

I also counselled that he’d best stop philandering around, as he was running out of good titles to bestow upon future wives - and no doubt, for the most part, that was a main attraction to women seeking to marry ol’ Dumbo Ears.

He reminded me that all official Royal titles are reusable, but I pointed out that I personally had a bit of experience with such things, and not all new wives warm to the notion of assuming a ‘’used’’ moniker:

Each of my first three wives eagerly changed their original last name to my own, but SuEllen absolutely refused to do so, and to this day, nearly 16 years later, uses her own exclusively. When people query me as to why, I just say, ‘’She doesn’t use my name - and I don’t use her’s.’’

Another funny or two: One sage remarked that Camilla’s former husband, Major Peter Bowles, whilst honored to have laid down his life for the Crown had, actually, laid down his WIFE, as well - Ha! I liked that one, but this one’s better:

Someone else reminded the world-viewing audience that Princess Diana had, at one point during an interview, mentioned that being married to Charles seemed as though there were three people in the relationship - as Camilla was forever lurking somewhere in the shadows . . . to which the (official) Royal Commentator retorted,

‘’Had Princess Diana been fair, she would have said the marriage was more like a group effort, inasmuch as she had a passel of lovers of her own during the course of her marriage to the Prince!’’ HA! and double HA! - Ya gotta love that one, eh wot?

All went well in the end, and even though it’s not exactly a proverbial fairy-tale romance or wedding - you must hand it to both of them that their illicit ‘’courtship’’ of 35 years duration lasted much longer than most full-blown legal marriages.

It also served the Crown quite nicely in keeping Chuck away from that damn polo he seems to like so much, but it is frankly, very dangerous. Why, I remember once when he decided to take up water polo - ’twas fine, until the first time he tried it - his horse drowned . . .

We were booked to return home right after the ceremony but then, darn if we didn’t get invited to the funeral for Prince Rainier of Monaco - and off we went there. That trip was much more rewarding however, as we won $36 million at the casino there - using, of course, the various techniques yours truly has developed over the years in Vegas, Reno and many of the Indian Casinos.

I trust you’ve enjoyed my actual/factual faux reportage of the events of those exciting yet fateful, history-changing days of April 2005 and further, that the same will serve for this April Fools (2006) joke. Thank you for your time.

-Dean

P.S. Did you happen to notice all the squirrely-looking hats the women were wearing throughout the day’s festivities? They looked to me like they’d been made by Elton John’s milliner - and later, I discovered that to actually be true!

At least, that’s what S.E. claimed right after the medics revived me from the shock of the $$-amount of the bill she presented me with for her own new floppy, lavender-colored chapeau . . .

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SUE? {or} NO SUE?

No . . . I’m not stuck on the horns of a dilemma (and you can imagine just how painful that can be!) - trying to decide whether or not to commence divorce proceedings to dump yet another wife! And besides, I have never referred to SuEllen as ‘’Sue’’ . . .

But this tale DOES center on my all-time favorite spouse, as well as some litigation, but before I tell you the nature of all that, I need to give you a bit of background, to wit, (there’s a nice ‘’legal’’ phrase!):

In 1969, on a trip back from Northern Michigan, the heater in my 1965 Cadillac convertible quit. ’twas a cold November afternoon, so I quickly headed for the dealership repair shop. As I drove in, I spotted a nifty new/blue Caddy displayed a few feet in the air on a pedestal (no kidding). On the spot, I traded my copper-colored Caddy for the blue one and off I went - a 29 year-old care-free entrepreneur!

Shortly thereafter, on Thanksgiving Day, I drove from Williamston into Lansing to run my new pride and joy through the automatic car wash. I paid the one-dollar fee, the mechanical gizmo grabbed the undercarriage and off we went into the steamy, hot ‘n sudsy waterfall. Only problem:

The driver’s side electric window failed. Just would not budge up or down and I was thoroughly drenched from head to lap. There was no way to stop the progression, or if there was, the attendant did not hear my yelling at him.

I drove home (about 15 miles) in the sub-freezing weather, as there was nothing else to do - virtually everything but the car wash was closed for the holiday. The upshot of that event:

I suffered a horrible and painful sinus infection - so bad that I was unable to move from excruciating head pain. My doctor actually made a house call (and later stated that it was the final one in his career). After a few days and a lot of Percodan, the pain subsided and I was back to normal except for a damnably loud ringing in my left ear.

Ever since it has never stopped - not for even a nanosecond. I must have music or some sort of ‘’noise’’ going on at all time when I am awake. Otherwise, I’ve always feared I would go nuts - ’tis that bad. Over the decades, I’ve been to numerous specialists and tried various herbal remedies.

Nothing has worked even a scintilla. Three specialists recommended surgery, but each cautioned that more than likely, along with the disappearance of the ringing would go the hearing in that ear. There would probably be total, irreversible deafness.

Question: Do you think I brought suit for damages and suffering against General Motors and/or the car wash outfit?

Next: In 1989 (in between marriages #3 and #4) I took P.C. to dinner late on a Sunday afternoon to Red Lobster, shortly before she returned to her dorm at Ferris State University. All was well until an hour after she’d left MOTH MANOR.

Gradually, I started to get a hot sensation in my face, the hands, chest, legs, etc. I went to a mirror and saw a grotesquely swollen person looking back. I was getting very dizzy but decided to drive myself to the ER a few miles away. They injected me with all sorts of fluids and kept me for several hours.

In the end, the attending physician informed me that I had literally been only minutes from death when I arrived, as the lungs and other vital organs were shutting down systematically with only my heart still functioning on a limited basis when they commenced ministrations.

The cause of all this (which took a long time to discover) was not any allergy to shellfish in the Jambalaya, as I and others had suspected, but rather, some spoiled white fish. It had virtually poisoned my entire system. We later learned that another man - much older - had died from eating the stuff. Now, my own misery, whilst short-lived, was truly awful - one of the nastiest personal experiences of my life.

Query: Did I sue the folks at Red Lobster?

By the way, the above incident recalls a similar one the year before when my late/great friend Hameed and I were in Karachi, Pakistan for a state wedding. There, I contracted food poisoning (fairly common for Westerners spending time in Asia) and after a few days of Yuck! - was flown to London and the famous Saint James Infirmary for treatment.

Well, of course, I did not even consider suing anybody in that instance - very good friends, with very good intentions were involved and before, during and after the incident they treated me like royalty - literally.

Finally (for me) there was the ‘’incident’’ in 2001 whilst we were remodelling our log cabin which came to be called (for a variety of reasons) Kamp Kwirky. To remove the 50 year old floor tile we rented a large, loud, nasty, electric tile removal machine which I operated for many hours over a three - four day period.

The upshot was that the exercise screwed up the vitreous fluid in my left eye, rendering it useless as far as seeing is concerned. It still looks pretty(!), though . . . Eventually, it cleared up and I could see much better. Then, a few months later, it went on the fritz again and so far, ophthalmologists have been unable to suggest a permanent remedy.

Now, nowhere on that damnable ‘’tile eater’’ did it warn of any need to be careful about excess vibration for ANY reason. So what did I do? Sue or not sue? Think about it.

Meanwhile, here’s ‘’SuEllen’s Saga:’’ On a clear but crisp mid March day in 2003, she drove by herself to a Northern Indiana shopping mall to pick up a few items preparatory to a road trip we had planned to the Southwest.

Several hours passed and as I was busy writing (and self-lubricating with a nice ‘’Freedom’’ Cabernet - you know, the domestic stuff we all felt we should replace the FRENCH stuff with!) - I didn’t notice her absence until the phone rang at 6:00 P.M. ’twas a hospital in Indiana where S.E. had been taken by ambulance.

She had slipped on a small patch of ice on the sidewalk of the shopping mall, cracked her head very hard and suffered numerous injuries, including a head concussion, neck whiplash, chest, back and hand contusions, muscle pulls and sundry other ‘’hurts.’’ Worse, she was loopy, as per her response when asked what county she lived in: ‘’I have a Master’s Degree.’’

I’m happy to report that she is definitely ‘’on the mend’’ now, but full recovery takes quite awhile and involves time-consuming (and very expensive) CAT scans, MRIs, counselling with a top neurosurgeon as well as a neuropsychologist (at $1500.00 per session - now there’s a field you might want to consider, if you have yet to make your life’s career decision!)

So again, here’s my question to you? Did we sue? Before you answer, here’s further data to help you decide:

1. When I personally investigated the whole matter, it was learned that two roof drains in the area of the mall where the mishap occurred were plugged, causing water to flow onto the sidewalk and then, freeze - but only in the one area. In short, all other areas were cleared, posed no hazard and did not threaten or warn pedestrians.

2. The manager of the store where S.E. fell was most cordial, helpful, assisted her into the store, called the EMS people, and whilst all were waiting, informed SuEllen that she had, on several occasions, contacted the mall manager and warned of the ice/slippery problem and worried aloud that ‘’someone is going to fall and get hurt.’’

3.As they waited for the ambulance, all of a sudden a team of maintenance people descended on the area and cleared away the ice and salted the surface!

4.A security guard for the mall (formerly, a police chief for a small nearby town) was dispatched to the hospital with instructions to pay all costs - including the initial CAT scan - which he did.

So, what are your answers? Did I sue those other times? Did we sue in the most recent case?

WHAT REALLY DID HAPPEN

In the first cases (my own) I did not sue. With the initial one, I never even considered such a thing. ‘’In those days,’’ folks were not as litigious as they later became. I truly never even thought about suing Cadillac/General Motors or anyone else.

In the ensuing three decades, I wish that I had, especially, when I sit alone on a screened-in porch on a warm summer’s night, watching the moon shimmer on the lake and wishing I could hear the subtle sounds of evening, such as crickets. But all that is masked by the constant ringing. (Hey! I DID stop buying Cadillacs after awhile!)

Red Lobster? No I did not sue them, either, although I fully realize that I should have, if just to bring to the public’s attention what they had done, and perhaps, save others from my plight. But later, one of the teevee exposé programs did do a piece on all that.

SuEllen’s travails (which I can tell you, also very definitely have become my own for several months) did not cause her to make that famous declaration, ‘’Lawsuit!’’ She did not want to pursue it. She was so miserable and out of sorts that she just didn’t want to compound her trouble.

But with the passing of time, I came to the opposite conclusion: Yes, darn it - like the fellow in the old ‘’Broadcast News’’ movie yelled, ‘’We’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take it any more!’’

I proceeded to gather evidence, statements, photographs of the scene, background data on the mall, its owners, etc, etc. After several attempts, found a team of seasoned product liability and personal injury attorneys and about the time I was trying to figure out how to convince S.E. to go ahead with some sort of litigation . . .

. . . Dr. Robert Adkins slipped and fell on a patch of ice in New York, as he walked to his office one morning in early April. He was in a coma until April 17th, when he died at 72. THAT was the clincher - SuEllen now readily agreed to ‘’sue the bastards’’ and that is where the matter hangs, as we speak.

My final question to you? What would you do under these circumstances? After all, there is certainly no end to the stupid, frivolous and often idiotic lawsuits people bring nowadays - jamming up the court system and causing insurance rates to spike, etc. So, would you have taken the action I insisted upon - or not? Just curious - let me know.

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‘TIS A SMALL WORLD, AFTER ALL!

Recently, the village where DAX is ‘’postally’’ located, celebrated the accomplishments of one of its own:

Verne Troyer, the little fellow who plays Mini-Me in the Austin Powers movies, was born and raised there and came back to visit his family, so naturally, a big blow-out was presented in his honor. (Of interest: Troyer was born and raised Amish!)

As a ‘’small’’ coincidence, on the very same day, a picture appeared in an area paper (The Sturgis Daily Journal, where my late father was a linotype operator for much of his 50 year career) - featuring my sister, Daisy, and two of her own grand children, Alex and Amanda. The story related that she was the very first person ever to graduate from a (then) new area college in 1968 and now, 35 years later, her grandchildren were also graduating from the same place. Neat, eh?

A final ‘’small’’ observation: A couple years back the family of the late Jim Hensen (who created the famed ‘’Muppets’’) sold their rights to a German company for $689 MILLION. Subsequently, the buyers experienced tough financial problems and recently sold back the full rights to the self-same Muppet’s founder’s family for . . . a ‘’mere’’ $69 million. I’m trying to decide if all that means one should think big or act small - or vicey-versey.

-Dean

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AN ATHEIST IN THE FOXHOLE?

A favorite adage of evangelicals during WWII was ‘’There are no atheists in foxholes.’’ The phrase was to counter anyone trying to argue - or advance - a disbelief IN ‘’God’’ - you know . . . the God . . . the one each religious fanatic is sure is the one-and-only Big Guy in the sky representing their particular take on what God/religion/heaven/hell are all about.

I was considering this subject recently when the One Billion-plus Catholics on the planet welcomed their new Pope, Benedict XVI, reputed by some detractors to be a former Nazi (I doubt that) but also, because I recently noted that I am now officially on the descending side of the bell curve rather than either at the top or on the ascending side. Here’s what I think about religion, heaven, hell and all related considerations:

WE NEED MORE GLITZ!

Proponents of the notion that an individual needs to do (whatever the favored dogma of a particular religion decrees) must adhere to certain guide-lines to eventually get into heaven - those folks need to mount a more convincing advertising campaign if they have even a glimmer of hope of converting large numbers of people who are above and beyond in intelligence the Bible-thumpers who traditionally and willy-nilly enter the fold. Consider:

Historically, the main impetus FOR doing (whatever) to enter the Kingdom of Heaven was based on two rather unattractive tenets:

Heaven is a wonderful place, where you live without a care. It is filled with love and loving people. Streets are paved in gold. Why, even the gates to the place are made of pearl! Once you are there, you will live in peace and contentment for eternity!

If that inducement fails to get a prospect all jazzed, packed and ready to heed Polyphonic Spree’s ‘’Suitcase Calling’’ - heaven-boosters may go for the switch part of the ‘Bait and . . . ‘ by trying to scare the beejeebers out of you:

They tell us the alternative to heaven is . . . HELL! Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy! Lurid descriptions of that horrific destination always seem to conjure up more vivid pictures than that of its counterpart. Nasty, burning images of contorted, tortured souls frequently pop up.

As an aside, here’s one of the most memorable images of the devil’s domain I ever heard: A man dies and goes to hell. Upon his arrival, Satan greets him and takes him on a grand tour of the facility. The man notices beautiful, scantily-clad, nubile women everywhere - and all seem to be beckoning to him. There’s an endless, mirrored bar nearby - replete with a massive array of every alcoholic beverage imaginable.

The new arrival is ecstatic and says out loud, ‘’I think I’m gonna love this place!’’ The Devil concurs and encourages him to partake of whatever strikes his fancy. The man remarks that he has his eye on a particularly voluptuous blonde, but decides first, to have a nice big drink of booze. He steps up to the bar, asks the barkeep for bourbon and the man hands him the entire bottle and a glass. ‘’Wow! This is even better than I thought!’’

As he starts to pour himself a generous slug, he notices that no liquid is leaving the bottle. A closer inspection reveals that the bottle neck is solid glass. He exclaims aloud, ‘’It’s plugged shut!’’ To which Satan replies, (c’mon gang, you must see this one coming down the ol’ pike!) ‘’Wait ’til you try the women.’’

ANYWAY . . .

I think religionists should hire a really good advertising man to attract folks to their version of the afterlife. Heck, when you consider the currently-promised payoff for living a pious life whilst on earth - having to jump whatever hoops are required for you to gain entrance to that slice of paradise that’s dangled before you - it seems, at once, to be boring and frightening.

It’s like a permanent never-ending retirement village with everything provided but with really nothing interesting to do except love (done a lot of that) be loved (enjoyed some of that already) and . . . what else? You know, that love stuff goes just so far: The wife of any recently-retired guy who bought himself the big screen teevee and a case of Viagara will tell you that’s not what it’s all cracked up to be.

I’ve always believed that the yin and yang of our physical world right here and now is not just good, but necessary. You need winter to have an appreciation for spring. (Witness all those screwed-up idiots in year-around climes and you’ll see the wisdom of that!) Sour/sweet. Dry/wet. Hot/cold. Good/bad. God/Devil. Heck how about man/woman?

Opposites not only attract - they make our whole existence possible. Take away all the mystery and controversy - remove the possibility for danger, harm, upset, a tear now and then - and it doesn’t seem like heaven to me - it seems more like, well, something I’d rather not be forced to endure.

LET’S RUN IT UP THE OL’ FLAGPOLE . . .

. . . and see who salutes it. That’s a favorite saying of the Madison Avenue Marketing Boys - whose job it is to make us all buy stuff - all the stuff that powers the engine of our economy. They know how to convince you that their client’s brand of cereal, identical to all others, is some how, better, tastier and healthier than all the rest.

Long ago they discovered how to ‘’sex up’’ most every product so that a male prospect, for instance, will subconsciously believe he’s going to ‘’get lucky’’ if he commits to a hundred year monthly payment plan for a certain vehicle, and women become easily convinced that if they buy a particular detergent their family will finally show them the respect and love they so richly deserve.

Good marketing can make people drop everything and suffer the slings and arrows of going to a crowded, smelly, filthy cineplex and shell out an exorbitant sum to watch a truly horrible flick.

But you say, ‘’Not when word of that gets around - then, people will not be sucked in.’’ And you are right, oh alert one! Conversely, when all others seem to like a movie or teevee show, they spread that word, as well.

But there is no word-of-mouth advertising for either heaven or hell. After all, when’s the last time you saw someone being interviewed who had spent a few days, months or years at either place? Therefore, ‘’sellers’’ must rely on the aforementioned descriptions and attempt to instill either positive expectations on faith alone, or force the fear factor.

ENTER DONNY DEUTSCH!

He is currently considered the top dog in advertising and if you doubt that, ask him - he’ll quickly confirm that as the truth. I think that Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, evangelicals, Catholics and all others who believe in a heaven and hell - and have decided that their mission is to make sure that you make the right choice (theirs) about one or the other - need to collaborate and pass around their collective collection plates to current believers.

Then, they should hire Donny to come up with a really glitzy campaign on television, radio, the internet, newspapers, magazines, bill boards - and don’t forget, the catchy signs in and on busses, taxi cabs and for sure, over all the men’s urinals in the world’s restrooms. We want the whole shebangy here, people!

The campaign will, of course, focus on convincing folks that heaven is a really great place - not just to visit - but as a permanent destination! Whoopee! You’re gonna love spending your hard-earned eternity there - and remember, eternity is not just a week, month or a couple of years, oh no, my pathetic, pathless sinner - eternity is, well, for-ev-errrrrrrrrrrrr! You will love it and never want to even think about that ‘’other place’’ - the one that’s hellishly hotter than any sauna you’ve ever sweated in.

And besides, ‘down there’ we hear that the liquor bottles are permanently plugged there and the women . . . well, let’s just not go there! Sign up today! You will not regret it (but if you do, be sure to read our disclaimer!)

DISCLAIMER:

All entrants into heaven proceed at their own risk of blissful contentment overload. Management (God and others whom he may or may not from time to time appoint to act on or in his behalf) take no responsibility for endless bouts of depression fostered by our ever-lasting, eternal policy of withholding any negative (read, ‘’fun’’) activities, adversarial actions or conflicting discussions including, but not limited to, differences of opinion on all matters large or small, physical or mental pain or anguish and related earthly problems.

Herewith, we especially and forever-more (literally) absolve ourselves of any harm that may result from one’s repeatedly winning multi-million dollar lotteries only to realize there is nothing in heaven for which money is needed. WARNING: All automobiles and other means of transportation in heaven are faultless and totally reliable, but since there is no need for them, none are available for use.

Sex is permitted, but only between consenting married adults - men and women, that is. (Sorry, Michael Jackson - obviously, you got in here by accident - bye-bye . . . DO trip on the way down . . . ) And all should be on notice: We’re tired of hearing from those souls who have been sleeping with the same spouse for the past eight million+ years and want a change: To you we say: It ain’t gonna happen - get over it! This is heaven, you heathen!

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EXACTLY HOW TO LIVE ECSTATICALLY HAPPY FOREVER!

Well maybe not - but at least I got your attention! Every now and then, I like to bring you up to date on a few more things that I’ve learned (from age/ experience) which contribute to my own health and happiness and perhaps, may work for you as well. Here they are in no particular order.

LARGE, SMALL (& DUMB) THINGS TO MAKE YOUR LIFE EASIER

If really overweight - obese, that is - do whatever necessary to shed some tonnage. This is NOT for any vainglorious reason, but merely to make every minute of each 24 hour day more enjoyable. ’tis a real grind hauling one’s huge butt (and equally larger-than-life other body parts) around - day and night.

If you are NOT truly overweight - maybe, you got it in your head that you should lose 3 - 4 pounds . . . get over it! Forget dieting and more to the point - forget fretting about your ‘’weight problem.’’

You do NOT have a problem - you are lucky to live in a society where you have plenty to eat and ‘’being overweight’’ is viewed AS a problem - rather than living where the pervasive concern is where the heck your next meal will come from - knowing full well that it will probably NOT come from any- where! Grow up - start appreciating where you live and your way of life (here)!

Got really bad or nasty habits? Break ‘em! Smoking, doing drugs, excessive alcohol consumption - all bad for YOU - and in some cases, equally bad for those around you. Who says you have a ‘’right’’ to pollute the lungs of your spouse, children or grandchildren?

Why should YOU be able to act like a damn fool every time you get a bit too tipsy - and expect those who care about you to worry all the time? You stupid boob: Again, grow up!

Tired of an electrical plug sticking all the time? I had one such: Every morning when drying my hair the plug stuck in the wall plug and darn near pulled the outlet out when removed. I stuck the prongs in a bar of soap - and now - no prob, Bob!

My regular reminder for solving one of MY irritating problems: Keep lots of dollar-store eyeglasses around, in the car, your office, at home - everywhere you can think of. That way, when you lose a pair just forget it - don’t waste time going back to a meeting, a restaurant or a store to retrieve.

Funny how, since I started doing the aforementioned, I have NEVER left a pair of the cheapos behind, whereas previously, I lost several specs costing a couple hundred bux!

Get your annual flu shot - period. Quit the ridiculous excuses - just do it. No, you can NOT get the flu from the shot - it contains only inert (DEAD) virus. Note: The new (and expensive - $65.00 each) flu sniffing technology IS based on live virus - hence, it’s restriction to certain healthy sorts only. Children and older folks should avoid. A lot of people got deadly sick this past winter - but not very many of us who got flu shots ever became ill.

Carry with you - or at least in your car - either anti-bacterial lotion (alcohol-based evaporates quickly) or the saturated paper ‘’wipes’’ designed for cleaning your hands - as well as any surfaces that have millions of nasty germs:

Door handles, currency and coins, all surfaces in any public restroom or other gathering places - and for gosh sakes, wipe off the handle of a shopping cart before touching it! Here’s why:

When tested, virtually all shopping cart baskets have traces of a variety of nasty bacteria - some of which (obviously) gets there from people sticking their children in the ride-along seat - children who have dirty diapers. ‘’Holy diaper rash, Batman!’’

Buy everything possible in bulk - multiple pounds, cases, dozens or whatever. Buy on sale when you can - and pay with a charge-card that pays you back a cash rebate - you’ll feel doubly smart!

Which reminds: Do everything possible every day to bolster your self-image. There will always be others trying to knock you down - worthless detractors bent on messing you up - so beat ‘em to the punch by making yourself invincible.

One way to do that is by constantly working at making yourself smarter, more independent, more indispensable to those around you. Read a lot - a lot of different things. Spend time on the web doing worthwhile research - rather than visiting porn sites . . .

Invest in and use daily a good ($40.00 -$80.00) power tooth brush. Not talking about those $5.00 - $7.00 versions a couple tooth paste companies are peddling - they’re virtually worthless. Brush your teeth two - three times each day (following the manufacturer’s instructions) and floss once or twice each day.

By doing so, you can dramatically reduce mild to serious dental problems, plus the corresponding need to visit dentists - which for most is no fun and for all very expensive.

There is also fairly fresh research proving that some forms of heart disease emanate from poor dental hygiene (believe it or not!)

Listen to what your body is telling you - instead of some other person’s assessment. SuEllen clued me into that years ago. It comes down to this: Perhaps, you’re on a strict diet which omits, let’s say, meat - especially, beef. After denying yourself for an extended period it may come about that you find yourself literally craving a steak.

More than likely, if you think it through it is NOT just because you’ve told yourself that you cannot have beef - it’s because your body is telling you - for whatever reason - that you NEED beef. Have some. It’ll satisfy your body and more importantly, your psyche.

If possible, buy all your towels in the same color - white is good. You can mix and match with no problems and best of all bleach all towels at least once each week. Again, those damnable germs - and no I am not paranoid: We live in a society which is becoming increasingly SICK - merely because others about us are not as clean as we are. It’s a fact, Jack.

It’s also helpful to have just two or three different color of socks. Then, when one gets lost or bleached or whatever, you haven’t lost the entire pair. Or, as is the deal with me, there’s no problem figuring out which color is which whilst getting dressed in the dark hours of an early morn. Again, just a tiny step to make life easier.

(Note to self: Self, you’re starting to sound like Andy Rooney!)

The most important lesson? Simplify your life! Everybody talks about it but few follow through. I’ve found that with the passing of years I just do not care to bother any more with people, mechanical things or anything else that bugs me!

So, I avoid as much as possible irritating folks - both personal and business - and I have rid myself of such things as certain real estate and vehicles that are nothing but trouble. Get yourself a Rolls-Royce, Lamborghini or Ferrari and get back to me a year later and tell me how THAT works out for you! You may well go nuts!

I strive to avoid most rigid schedules as I hate to have to be anywhere at a particular time and the last thing I will do is wait for someone else! I have walked out of doctor or dentist offices when they failed to show at the agreed-upon time. They expect ME to be there - and threaten to charge if not, right? Ditto when it’s the other way around!

An entire book could be written on uncomplicating one’s life - and no doubt someone has bothered to do so. But I do know that maybe more important than anything else, casting out all the mind-fogging nonsense is the one best step towards making life easier, more pleasant and probably longer-lasting, too.

One final thought on how to live ecstatically: Get yourself a really nice place on a quiet lake somewhere - you’ll never regret it!

-Dean

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SOMETIMES, LESS TRULY IS MORE . . .

Recently, whilst enjoying my morning coffee and a low-carb/high-protein chunky peanut butter bar (Thanks for the case of ‘em, Dr. Atkins!) I caught a TV report on a Kentucky hilly-billy-type fellow who had just, four months earlier, won $41 million in the ‘’Big Game’’ lotto. (They have since changed the name of the thing - cannot recall at the moment what ’tis now).

The back story on the gent was one of forty years of financial misery - several years in prison for robbery - and being totally broke and living in a shack, down to his last unemployment check when his lotto number pick ‘’hit.’’ BIG hit.

Immediately, he started buying stuff - lots of stuff: Three very expensive homes, seven luxury automobiles, all sorts of diamond and gold jewelry, and so forth. I smiled when I saw this as it reminded me of my infamous ‘’gold elephant’’ incident which occurred several decades ago. I too, had been dead-busted broke - literally bankrupt - in ill physical health and, well, all the rest of the usual hard-luck crap we Americans love to layer on as thickly as possible whenever a ‘’rags-to-riches’’ tale is told.

By the way, certainly more amusing are the various Jewish stories where two (now) successful old fellows are always trying to outdo the other, as in ‘’When I was a child we were so poor that I had to walk twelve miles to school in shoes with holes in the soles,’’ says Isaac. To which Moshe retorts, ‘’You had shoes? AND you went to school?’’ It goes on and on from there . . .

Anyhow . . . after I had begun to ‘’strike it rich’’ in this crazy business many moons ago, naturally, I went a bit nuts, myself - accumulating all sorts of goodies that until then had been beyond my reach: The first Cadillac, first ‘’real’’ vacation (Treasure Island in Florida), new clothes, a Rolex, etc., and of course, a pretty darn nice all-brick French Provincial in the (then) best East Lansing Michigan neighborhood. Next, I set about to fill that huge edifice with new furniture and various doo-dads.

That was fun - so much so, that long after the joint was filled to the brim with everything imaginable - I just kept going - blowing bux on whatever struck my fancy. Thus occurred the aforementioned ‘’Gold Elephant’’ debacle.

I had already placed a very expensive artfully hand-painted porcelain pachyderm - a very impressive piece - on the marble floor of the foyer, next to the double leaded-glass entrance doors - sort of standing guard, I guess.

Now, he really didn’t need any help with the task, but nonetheless, one day I brought home yet another elephant - after all, I still had plenty of extra $$ to fritter away . . .

The new ‘’big guy’’ was totally gilded - there wasn’t any painstaken definition of features - just one huge mono-glob of ‘’gold.’’ I situated the new fellow next to the original one, but it instantly looked out of place there. Thus, began an extensive ‘’elephant walk’’ whereby the thing was periodically moved form room to room - and from place to place within each room - until I was willing to admit the ‘’error of my excess.’’

Eventually, when I moved from that particular house to a much larger one (surprise!) I included the (now ugly, in my mind) Gold Elephant in a big garage sale, where I almost had to pay someone to take it away!

More recently, SuEllen and I were forced to do a bit of ‘’Personal-Possession-Soul-Searching’’ after we (finally) found ‘’the home of our dreams’’  - or the way I prefer to put it: The home-of-our-dreams right now:

I hate to even consider that any place on the face of this planet may well be my ‘’final’’ one, although this one, BLUE HERON POINTE, comes close to being the ideal if that must be so. There are many nifty features - many of which we truly never expected to find all in one place - especially, after a darn-near three year search throughout the Midwest - from Michigan to Missouri and all states bewteen!

But we did find just the right spot and that meant that nasty bugaboo of all mankind: The BIG MOVE! Now, ’tis a long-established fact of life that one of the main reasons to move once in awhile is to have an inescapable reason to sort out old clothes and other accumulated ‘’stuff’’ - and then, to dump it all.

Our task was compounded because, although the new place is very comfortable, it is considerably smaller than we’re accustomed to plus, we have some major rebuild projects planned which will make it cumbersome to have too much furniture and other accouterments about. An example:

At WINTERWOOD I had some five . . . no, I guess it was actually SIX different La-Z-Boys (a couple were BarcaLoungers, I believe) and in the new place there’s just NO room for that many. A couple - three, tops.

Worse still, S.E. decided she could not fit all her clothes into the new house - even with the use of three separate closets - so she gave away a ton of threads from the downstairs cedar closet I had built just for her a couple years back.

Our mutual task of paring down batches of things each of us ‘’treasured’’ for many years was really very complicated. Once executed though, ’twas a very cleansing experience. Without much of that extraneous junk (some of it was ‘’Junque’’ due to the cost) - life was/is less cluttered.

Thus, sometimes ‘’less does equal more.’’ Less things to trip over or move around - more freedom TO move around, and . . . more space . . . but if not careful, like the aforementioned hilly-billy fellow we may start filling up all that space again . . .

-Dean

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ALL DEPENDS ON YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Writers and philosophers have come up with a number of ways to describe the phenomenon over the years: ‘’One man’s pleasure - another man’s pain.’’ ‘’One man’s treasure - another’s trash.’’ ‘’One person’s poison may be another’s cup of tea.’’ And so forth. Lots of ways to express the notion that we humans have diverse approaches to every subject, every challenge, various material goods and most importantly, methinks, our individual view of . . . EVERYTHING!

A raging fire may destroy vast expanses of forest, whilst a few miles away it warms and sustains life to those huddled around a hearth with its nearby ‘controlled’ roaring fire. The deliberate burning of living trees and bushes sounds like a criminal - even insane act - yet, if firefighters hadn’t learned the necessity of setting extensive backfires, by now, most all of our National forests would have been completely consumed.

So, is fire ‘good’ or ‘bad?’ Obviously, it depends on the circumstances - and in many cases, one’s experience, plus other factors thrown in for the occasion, but always, it comes back to one’s individual attitude GIVEN those other factors to be considered.

This is not Philosophy 101 - this is just plain old common sense, born of observation and experience. I built my first house at age 16. Drove the well myself with a tripod contraption and pulley rig with a heavily weighted ‘drill bit.’ Dug the septic tank and dry well holes and trenches by hand.

Ditto for the foundations for the house. Then, poured all concrete by hand, built the framed walls, roof, and so on. Ended up with a nice, very common-looking little house, but it served it’s purpose and for five years comfortably housed a wife, two children a couple cats, a dog, and myself on the rare occasions that I was home and not working at one of several jobs - or building another, much larger house nearby.

That larger house was born of a bit more experience, and so whilst using the same materials, i.e., two-by-fours, bricks, concrete and so forth - I began experimenting - and the second house, though it took nearly three years to build, was far more interesting.

In the decades since, whenever I’ve personally built a house or office or when I’ve had such structures built, I’ve learned to innovate even more - getting more use, more interest, more ‘mileage’ from the same materials.

I wrote a piece once where I compared using certain basic materials with which one could either build a mere shed to store a lawn mower or other such items, or with essentially the same materials, build a sauna.

The first project is worth, when done, a couple hundred bux - the sauna would be worth perhaps $5,000 or more. Again, just another way of looking at the same thing.

In business, I have found this concept of differing attitudes even more fascinating! Years ago, when I first started writing professionally, and then publishing and marketing my output, I took the most (next) logical step - that of purchasing and equipping a small printing plant of my own. Not only did we produce our own needs in a timely, low-cost fashion - we also did commercial work for others.

Then one day, I started looking at the actual stark figures and realized just how foolish it was (for me, anyway) to be in the PRINTING business when essentially my talents and real enthusiasm was solely for the PUBLISHING BUSINESS.

In short, I computed that a few sheets of paper when printed for a customer might give the printer a dollar or two, whilst the SAME printed paper when PUBLISHED with perceived valuable data could fetch upwards of a THOUSAND DOLLARS or more! Again, ’tis just how you look at something . . . ATTITUDE!

When my alter ego, the abstract expressionist painter, du Vall, goes down to the studio and starts slapping paint on canvas, it looks to me like he’s just . . . slapping paint on canvas! Yet there are intelligent and astute investors and collectors around the world who pay really big bux for the stuff - $10,000 - $25,000 each! Man! They must REALLY have ‘an attitude!’

SuEllen and I both were born and raised in the MidWest - farm country. I have known many farmers - and almost every one will do little more than complain about their lot in life. (or their PLOT in life - if their land ain’t up to par!)

They’ll tell you how land costs are way up . . . property taxes always on the increase . . . machinery expense sky-high, and on and on. Many years they either lose money or barely break even. All of these laments are true or certainly contain elements of truth.

Frequently though, I’ve tried to get across to some of these otherwise intelligent people some OTHER truths and facts that could all but instantly greatly improve their fortunes. But most will not listen, thinking (perhaps, understandably), ‘’What does this middle-aged non-farmer city slicker know about farming?’’ Nothing actually, but I DO know from attitude!

Consider: A farmer in St. Johns, Michigan once decided to grow Mint instead of corn. Nowadays, the man is super rich, has fostered many local imitators and St. Johns is the ‘official’ Mint Capitol of the world - with annual festivities, carnivals, etc. A similar set of circumstances occurred in Gilroy, California, now known as the GARLIC capital of the world.

Down the road a piece (down the road a piece?! Hey! SuEllen - got any more of them thar straws I can stick in my mouth . . . ?!) - some folks decided to grow asparagus on a small patch of ground, and when that isn’t in season the strawberries or raspberries are.

You can make pretty good bux from these high cash crops. Add some other veggies, then build yourself a cute little roadside stand and believe it or not, especially if you live near a city or resort area, you may be raking in $2-3,000 per day!

Another guy I know turned an old apple orchard into one of the highest revenue-generating tourist attractions in the MidWest by calling it ‘Uncle John’s Cider Mill.’ People go there with and without their kids or grandkids in droves, and even though the farm is quite small, I will wager that ‘Uncle John’ drags in more bux per square acre than any of his contemporaries bring in from a thousand acres of just planting corn.

Personally, I always thought ‘twould be fun and profitable to grow mushrooms and perhaps also have a small herd of . . .snails! Heck, both are expensive delicacies and it certainly doesn’t take much space! An acre or two might be enough to claim ‘The World’s Largest Escargot Ranch!’

One final farmy-type example: As recently reported in the venerable Wall Street Journal, Paul Zimmerman, a farmer in Pennsylvania Amish country, nicely defied all his detractors (including his own father) to forego years of experience in raising cattle, to instead, start raising Australian birds called emu (pronounced EEE-mew).

They lay green eggs. People are fascinated by them. They also EAT them, because the meat tastes like beef but has only one-third of the cholesterol, and get this: It sells for $20.00 a pound!

Mr. Zimmerman used to get about $100 to $200 for a Holstein calf. His little emu chicks running around his yard fetch $5,000.00 . . . apiece. A pair of breeding emus sells for $30,000.00! Emu oil (do NOT ask me how they GET it!) sells for $24.00 for a two ounce bottle - they use the stuff in beauty products.

Yep, ‘ol Mr. Z had a change of attitude - started looking at the facts of his surroundings, added up his assets, did some comparison studies and realized that, essentially, he could transform an ordinary, fare-to-middlin’ existence into a fabulous lifestyle. So, this past January when all the other Pennsylvania farmers were faced with enduring the snow, Mr. Z and the missus took off for Cancun, Mexico.

Just a matter of how you look at it all . . . it all comes down to attitude. How’s YOUR attitude? About life . . . your job/business/ profession/career . . . your spouse . . . your children . . . your personal surroundings . . .

Could you take a talent or skill that you already possess and transmute it a bit into something more fun, exciting and profitable? Perhaps, you consider yourself undereducated, a bit shy or bashful or socially unaware.

Maybe you even ARE, but it is highly doubtful that others would consider you so - they’re probably (and this is usually 100% TRUE) - they’re too busy worrying about their OWN inadequacies, failures and other negative aspects of THEIR life to even notice YOUR ‘little’ deficiencies.

So . . . buck up, buck-o: Just get a better purchase on your problems - adapt a fresh outlook and soon, you may well be wondering what in the heck was all that former drudgery and negative crap all about, anyway!

-DFVD

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FIVE MOST DREADED WORDS: ‘’WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE . . . ‘’

I was recently watching late-night TV talk show host Bill Maher on his popular HBO show, ‘Real Time.’ Bill is highly controversial (which is the main reason I like him!) and this particular night he expounded upon the fact that we Americans devote far too much time, effort and resources to our children.

We seem bent on keeping them super happy, totally involved at all times (there must never be a ‘’dull moment’’) and all in all, we give-over far too much of ourselves to the offspring.

Indeed, many dote excessively on the young-uns: Most children expect that and do not work to earn it in any real way - and worst still, they have (understandably) come to consider as a veritable entitlement anything and everything mom and dad or grandma and grandpa can possibly make possible:

Toys, electronic equipment, all sorts of expensive clothing gear, tricycles, bicycles, automobiles, motorcycles, boats, snowmobiles,, trips to DisneyWorld . . . you name it . . . ANYTHING . . . And just about any middle class kid today will expect to receive all that (sooner or later) but when he or she does, will not blink twice or (sadly) thank you even once. Like I said, they simply expect it as their right. Anything less and they are considered under-privileged.

Let’s talk about that - and I warn you - there is a bit of historical perspective about to spew forth here. When I was a kid (those other dreaded five words every generation hates to hear from the previous generation!) - we were not just expected to work for whatever we might want - we had to. There was simply not an excess of cash in most families that could be used in any frivolous or capricious way.

I used to mow lawns, shovel snow, sell all sorts of stuff door to door, collect old newspapers, various metals, etc., to take into the junkyard where I would collect a few pennies or a couple dimes. The going rate for mowing a fairly large lawn was 25 cents.

That meant I would haul my non motorized reel-type mower across town, push the cotton-pickin’ thing around someone’s grassy knoll for an hour and then collect that great big fat quarter. And I was thrilled to get it!

To this day, whenever I consider that a single first class stamp costs a mere 39 cents - as cheap as that is in today’s grand scheme of financial things - I recall how long and hard I had to work as a kid to make a sum that fell short of that amount!

But, lest I present the wrong impression here, I personally look back fondly on all that, because as I sweated my brains out, trying to make a bit of money here and there - and everywhere(!) - I came to realize that brute force - hard labor, that is - would not make me ‘’rich.’’ Thus, I set about to figure out ways to make more money - easier and faster. That I did is rather well documented and that’s not my specific point here, so let’s get back to what is:

By our ‘’giving’’ our children everything we can think of - and everything they ask for - freely, with few if any restrictions - we are actually doing them a disservice by being way too nice!

The mayor of Sturgis, Michigan where I grew up was a nice old fellow by the name of Mr. Good. (Really.) He worked at the Sturgis Daily Journal, where my father was a linotype operator. Mr. Good worked in the front office, wore a three-piece suit - light blue - may have been his only one, I don’t know.

He had a gold watch with a matching chain that swooped regally across his vest and whenever I would visit my father in the composing room, Mr.Good always made a point of stopping me for a brief chat and would end the same by presenting me with a shiny new dime - retrieved from the little pocket opposite from where his watch nestled. Talk about ‘’making your day!’’

Also, at Halloween, all the kids I knew would make a beeline to Mr. Good’s house for ‘’trick or treat,’’ because once again, he always personally came to the front door and deposited a shiny new dime in each of our sacks. Wow! Can it really get any better than that? FREE MONEY!

Well, yes, I suppose it can. On my youngest daughter’s 16th Birthday I bought her a brand new Rabbit Convertible. Two years later, when she graduated, I replaced that with a brand new BMW convertible. She felt uncomfortable driving that to college so I bought a second Rabbit convertible just for that purpose.

Later, when she and Nick married I bought them a large new BMW sedan for a wedding present. Not surprisingly, many people insisted on telling me that I was spoiling her rotten.

Well of course, I was - as much as possible! What’s the purpose of being born poor, then working like crazy to get rich - if you can’t do whatever the heck you want with YOUR money, after all?! The difference is, I could well afford it. Another huge difference is that (because I raised my kids properly!) she DID appreciate my largess and it did not ‘’ruin’’ her in any way . . . HA!)

What bugs me is the fact that people who can ill afford to pay their everyday bills feel compelled to go way out of their way to spend money they do not have to purchase stuff that their kids may well not even appreciate in the first place.

Anyway, ‘’way back then’’ (when I was a kid) a nice new shiny dime was something all kids treasured. And my earning 25 cents for mowing a lawn - devoting a full hour of real hot, gut-busting work made me realize that in order to ever make significant sums of money I would need to do something different, something smarter.

I was still in my teens when the course of my life’s work began to take shape - based exclusively on that personal brainstorm. As I reminisce about those turbulent teen-age years, I guess I’d have to say that of ALL my many ‘brilliant ideas’ over the ensuing decades, THAT’s gotta be, first and foremost, the most important of them all. After all, it led to our becoming the undisputed Internationally-recognized leader in the Self-Improvement/Wealth-Producing industry and more important, being in a position to help countless millions of ambitious men and women attain their personal life goals! 

REDUNDANCY . . . GOOD

Years ago, when SuEllen made her first trip to Europe with me, and after we’d been ‘’training’’ from one country to the next for a few days (my favorite pastime ‘’over there’’ next to sampling all the native cuisine and spirits) she all of a sudden became very quiet and pensive. I’ve since come to refer to that mood as ‘’sullen SuEllen.’’

We were in Austria - Klagenfurt, to be exact (a terrific ancient city I’ve visited many times: It’s the home of the famed Lindenwurm and also the delightful Minimindus - a recreation of most of the world’s greatest buildings and monuments - in miniature). Suddenly, S.E. exclaims, ‘’I just figured out the real difference between the U.S. and Europe: There’s no redundancy here. No back up.’’

We went on to discuss the fact that although most all goods in Europe are of the finest quality - whether it’s a Rolls Royce, Belgian crystal, Irish linen or whatever - most people have just one of a given item which they lovingly preserve for their entire life. A mattress might literally be passed from one generation to another, for example. Throughout Europe you’ll see elegant older folks - finely dressed - strolling down the avenue, but most likely, their outfit of the day is their only one.

They cannot reach into the Euro equivalent of a big old stuffed-full American closet and select from many different articles of clothing. Thus, they meticulously clean, brush and maintain their possessions and make them last for years. Nothing wrong with that - certainly, we could learn from that time-honored tradition, ourselves.

Conversely, we all seem to possess - and continue to acquire - much more than we could ever use in our own lifetime and there is definitely a great deal of waste, as a result. But as S.E. points out - it certainly seems better to ‘’have too much’’ rather than just enough or worse, NOT enough.

Myself, I’m somewhere in the middle on the subject: I do like the notion of buying only high quality goods and then taking care of them - to get my money’s worth - but I also recognize the joy of getting some new stuff now and then - especially, when it is NOT really needed!

One of my favorite cars in the stablefo many yearswa s a bright red BMW convertible I had from new. (Got it after driving the aforementioned one bought for P.C.’s graduation and liking it better than anything else we had).

It stayed like new, for a dozen years, and never gave me a speck of trouble. In that same time frame we had to replace 4 other vehicles that simply wore out - three of ‘em American-made (draw your own conclusions there!) I could never see a good reason to toss out the BMW like a dry ballpoint pen. Yes, it was a bit dated but then, so am I . . .

-Dean

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SurTHRIVE!

You and I currently live in what can only be described as ‘’perilous times.’’

We can pretend that is not the case, but even if we were to totally avoid all news broadcasts (as my late friend Hameed did) nevertheless, sooner or later we would be apprised of both the facts and fiction of our peculiar and oft-times unsettling existence in the early part of the 21st Century.

Indeed, the way SuEllen and I first learned of the now infamous ‘’9-11′’ was from an electrician who was working on our KAMP KWIRKY project a year and a half or so ago. We had left WINTERWOOD early and were at the cabin working on various things when he arrived, and only after we’d had a long conversation with the ‘’electrifying’’ fellow about the job did he say quietly, ‘’You haven’t heard the news, have you?’’

Thus ensued a strange experience - especially, as he unemotionally detailed all the data that was then known about the several attacks, the many casualties and so forth.

But that was then and now is now and unfortunately, partially as a result of that momentous day, plus a series of other significant national and international events, again, you and I find ourselves sailing in uncharted waters.

In addition to our now ‘’facing spectacular attacks from known or unknown sources’’ (the words of our esteemed leaders) the results of said affrontry is apt to include ‘’massive casualties,’’ ‘’severe financial loss’’ and ‘’general chaos’’ amongst the populace.’’ Again: Actual wordage from our top hired guns. Whoopee! Maybe, Hameed was right in just ignoring all such nasty stuff.

OH, BUT THERE’S MORE!

Besides all the aforementioned things to concern ourselves about, naturally, as humans we also must confront the ‘’usual suspects’’ on an on-going basis. You know, personal and family health issues. Relationship considerations. Children, grandchildren and other folks of interest and concern. And of course, that perennial BIG ONE, financial obligations.

The underlying motivation for my doing all this stuff all these years - has always been an innate concern for others as well as for me and mine. Long before I had any true understanding of the socio-economic structure of our world I always felt that no matter what - regardless how dire the situation - one could inevitably rise above and not just live through it all (survive) but also be a better person for having done so (thrive). Hence, long ago we coined the word (and trademark), SurTHRIVE™!

Some of that thinking is based on what I consider ‘’just the way it is’’ (or perhaps, should be), to wit: Trapped in a horrible marriage or other relationship where, despite all one’s efforts there appears to be no decent resolution? Get out. Leave, divorce or whatever is necessary to return to you not just a modicum of happiness (or in many cases, sanity!) but an abundance of happiness.

Got an unreliable vehicle that gives you fits and lets you down frequently? Junk it - replace with something reliable (and sporty and fun, if you’re like me!) Live in a depressed area with rampant crime and other nasty stuff? MOVE!

Is your wallet empty, your bank account closed and both the cookie jar and that once lumpy-from-stashed-bux mattress now smooth? Get out and make some fresh BUX!

Generally, all of life’s little and large problems have rather simple solutions, after all. It’s just a matter of figuring out what the best answer might be given the particular circumstances.

BUT WE MUST CONSIDER . . .

Right now, today, I will grant you that we are moving through very unusual times. Indeed, I believe that we are in an historical period unmatched by any other before. I’ve thought about that statement for a long time before making it and I am certain it is accurate.

We exist today in ways, by ways and for ways that never were even possible until recently - let alone, embraced by so many of the world’s populace.

And here’s a real hoot: I wrote that last paragraph a few minutes ago - just before a power outage at BLUE HERON POINTE and have now had to go back and reconstruct the whole thing from memory, because even our back-up system failed to capture 100% of this article!

That is Gospel and just highlights what I WAS saying: The way our individual and collective world is structured today, we must deal with an almost totally different set of problems than even our very recent ancestors could ever have imagined.

As a reader here, statistically, you are probably not old enough to have experienced the myriad of circumstances such as those you wake up to just about every morn nowadays. An actual war in progress. An economy that has flipped and flopped so many times it’s hard to tell which end’s up - and just when you figure it out - it gets all silly again! Medical marvels and mischief.

Major shifts in our national morals have had significant impact on our entire society. I am no prude, but gotta tell you was shocked to observe some of the conciliatory comments from ordinary middle-class, God-fearing, Mid-Westerners vis-B-vis a number of recent scandals in the Church, government and other areas which were once considered sacrosanct - at least as far as what was clearly ‘’right’’ and what was definitely ‘’wrong.’’ No more! But I digress . . .

HERE’S THE NICE THING . . .

Despite all that negativity, there is still enormous opportunity and undying enthusiasm in each of us (maybe, a bit latent) to again, not merely ‘’get through it all’’ but to come out the other side happier, healthier, wealthier and yes, perhaps, even more secure. It all depends on our personal attitude coupled with a willingness to learn, study, work, explore, implement and, well . . . just . . . DO IT!

There’s a reason we’ve always referred to people who work at succeeding as DAX-DOERS. DAX is the attitude - the DOER is the person who actually gets off their dead butt and accomplishes something.

I feel a lot better about a number of people who are reading this - I hope you’re in that special group - because over the past year or so we have made available a couple of new programs that have fit our ‘’new economy’’ as well as our otherwise precarious world like the proverbial glove. Especially, our ‘’DAX Superior Cyber Cash Generator!’’ and the ‘’DAX Millionaire Web Wealth!’’

The ‘’Cyber’’ was seized upon by a number of true-blue DAX-DOERS including one young woman who recently was the focus of a television feature: She had tweaked the concept to fit her personal interests and starting with ‘’zero,’’ and recently fired from her clerical job, within a couple months was already grossing $30,000.00 a month.

I felt really great about that - ’cause, in the end, that’s what it’s all about: Coming up with ideas and concepts that are viable in helping others make more money, live better, gain improved health, wisdom and such - and then - passing it along!

Speaking of passing along - we lost our oldest kitty recently - my favorite, Patty. About 18 - 19 years old, we think. She was a small, long-haired Calico with a snaggle-tooth that everybody thought was ugly except me. Ruby, Pinky and Barry still pussy-foot around here - although the latter one was Patty’s buddy and of her same age.

(Update:  Both Ruby and Barry have since padded on to that great litter box in the sky, but as always happens, a couple more strays have taken up residence with us: Big Red (an Amish kitten who grew into a huge Tom Cat) and Stubby-Butt, a small male cat of the ‘’Sparrow-Color variety - found by the side of the road after being hit by a car: S.E. and the vet ($600.00!!) nursed him back to health, but his tail had to be removed, hence his name. He alone, loves plain yogurt, and ’tis MY job to see that he gets it thrice daily .  .  .

-Dean

$  $  $  $

‘’TOPSY JUST ATE A MAN . . . ‘’

You are herewith forewarned: This is what was once euphemistically called a ‘’shaggy dog story.’’ All elements are true - but admittedly, ’tis a bit strange.

In my ‘’yute’’ - well okay, right there I’ve got to stop and explain: Did you see a movie about twenty years ago called ‘’My Cousin Vinny?’’ It starred the (then) newcomer Marisa Tomei and the veteran tough-guy actor, Joe Pesci. They were cousins - with Pesci, as a seedy, has-been lawyer defending Tomei in court for some reason that (now) escapes me.

The judge was the late Fred Gwynn - famous as the patriarch in the popular TV series, ‘’The Munsters.’’ Okay - got the picture? Pesci, in court, at one point describing something from when he was a kid in the Bronx says, ‘’In my yute . . . ‘’ Gwynn interrupts and says, ‘’Yute? What’s that?’’

Pesci gets irritated and says, ‘’You know - in my yute - when I was a kid!’’ ‘’Oh,’’ says Gwynn, ‘’you mean youth - when you were in your youth!’’ Pesci: ‘’Yes - of course, that’s what I said - in my yute!‘’

Anyway . . . in MY yute - around when I was about nine or ten, per usual, I was spending the summer months at Castle Farm - my grandmother and grandfather’s place north of Monroe, Michigan on old U.S. 24 - the main road between Detroit and Toledo.

It was about 6:00 o’clock on a Sunday morning - I’m fast asleep in my little room off the South tower - Castle Farm was named such for a reason - there were North and South towers - pretty neat all in all - in fact, there were turrets, gun sights and other fun stuff that my grandfather - who had a very vivid imagination - incorporated when he built the place in the mid 1930’s!

There I am - fast asleep, and my grandmother - who solemnly represented my German caustic-wit ancestry - crept into my room, bent down and whispered (loudly) into my ear, ‘’Topsy just ate a man!’’ WOW! Holy rude awakening, Batman! That startled me no end and to this very day, well over a half century later, I still have the odd moment now and then when I recall that phrase, ‘’Topsy just ate a man!’’

Well, Topsy was my grandfather’s longtime companion, a small, curly-haired, shiny-black sheep dog. I never-ever saw another one like her until decades later when SuEllen and I were dining on the second floor of a terrific restaurant in Brussels (Belgium). An old couple there had an identical dog with them at their table. In Europe everyone is allowed to takes dogs into even the finest of eateries. ’twas déjB vu all over again . . .

Back to the event at Castle farm: It seems that an old drinking buddy of my French grandpa’s had apparently gotten soused somewhere the night before, had lost his way home and felt safe crashing on the front porch at Castle Farm.

At first, just peeking out the window, no one knew who he was and apparently, Topsy had become agitated and was sniffing around the man, causing great concern in my grandmother - who as mentioned, had a serious warped sense of humor - unmatched by anyone - even ME in my old age. So, she roused me more or less awake with that unnerving intonation.

Flash forward some half-plus century to a be-ootiful summer afternoon at BLUE HERON POINTE. I’m taking a nap - not unlike the lazy young fellow of yesteryear at Castle Farm, except now, I’m in the hammock out by the lake. I’ve enjoyed a few glasses of burgundy and have nicely fallen asleep.

Suddenly, SuEllen creeps up to my hammock, nudges me and says, ‘’I’ve got to go meet a DNR officer - there are two dead geese in the yard and I have to take them to him to see what killed them.’’ Whaaaaat?????!

The Canada Goose Saga . . .

(FYI: It is Canada NOT Canadian {Goose}: Most everybody gets it wrong). A pair of geese had, a couple weeks earlier, decided to nest in our front yard, right next to the seawall - right out in the open. No one around here could believe it as there are some excellent other places to nest - out on the island or on the shore of several secluded coves - where there is shelter, food and safety.

Nope, these two birds decide to be David Blaine-type exhibitionists and make their nest right out there for everyone to see. So be it. BUT, I had scheduled our Amish workers to come in with five yards of fill dirt and a Bobcat (yes, contrary to popular belief, the Amish DO use mechanized machinery now and then!) and spread the dirt in some sink-holes in the yard. I had them work around the goose nest so as not to bother them, of course.

By the way, imagine the largest chicken egg you’ve ever seen and then double that. There were six of ‘em in that nest. Every day - for 28 days - the mama goose sat on the nest and the papa goose just hung out nearby - looking really bored. Occasionally (in MY mind) he’d leave - fly over to the ‘’island bar’’ - have a couple tall ones and then dutifully return to sit nearby as the missus continued her vigil.

Well, back to my afternoon snooze. S.E. says she looked out and saw both geese some distance from the nest - dead. Just lying still in the tall grass. (We had also told the Amish fellows not to mow too near the nest.) She went out, checked ‘em over and declared them deceased.

Next, she called the DNR and they asked her to pack them up in plastic bags and haul their dead feathered-butts over to a mutually-agreed upon meeting place so they could examine the remains.

She woke ME up to tell me what was going on so I’d know. I said, Wow! This is ‘’Topsy just ate a man’’ - all over again! I went over, checked the geese - and noticed they were very much alive and honking their heads off when I deigned to go near the nest.

Tragedy over - a couple more long distance phone calls to the DNR guy (on MY nickel - not the goosies’) and all’s well at BLUE HERON POINTE. Except . . . now, I’ve got a whole new basis of ‘’weird’’ to consider whenever I’m in that twilight zone of almost but not quite asleep . . . I wonder if that old song - that Red Skelton used to sing - was based on a similar impetus. You know, ‘’The old gray goose is dead . . . ‘’

-Dean