The Mission

PART 2: THE MISSION


PART 1: Walking Away
PART 3: Sunshine and Rainbows
PART 4: Heaven’s Gate

That Mission Statement

Upon realizing that I turned a mission statement into a manifesto, I was forced to break this into multiple parts. Every proper manifesto begins with the struggle of the people. If you skipped part one, I’ll summarize it by pointing out the shift in our language where “Personnel” became “Human Resources.” At first, you were people, but now you’re just a commodity. It’s better for PR when a company exploits resources instead of people.

“Don’t Live to Work. Work to Live.”

I’ve lived by that philosophy since the first time I heard someone speak those words. While I have respect for people who put their nose to the grindstone to grind out serious hours, you gotta realize that when the game is rigged you have to stop playing by the rules. One way to beat the house is to find a way to thrive while doing something you love.

Freedom is not slavery. Every shitty dictator since the dawn of time has tried to convince us otherwise. Living to Work sounds like a miserable existence. It reminds me of that dystopian future from books like 1984 and Brave New World — or movies like The Hunger Games and The Matrix. That’s probably why the entrance gate to Auschwitz said: “Work Sets You Free.”

I’ll admit, our situation beats living in a concentration camp or working in some 3rd world sweatshop making $1.50 a week, but we should all have higher aspirations than “just trying to survive.”

Both of my parents were taken by pancreatic cancer before reaching that golden age of retirement. After watching my mother pass away with my own eyes I figured out how short life is. It didn’t take long for me to make some drastic changes. Think about it. Do you want to be laying on your death bed thinking about all those nights and weekends spent knocking out TPS Reports?

Yeah, That Would Be Great

I’m not opposed to hard work, but why should anyone bust their ass for 30 years to be nothing more than a “human resource?” When you’re chained to a desk 40 hours a week it’s hard to stop looking out the window at the possibilities you’re missing out on — unless you don’t even have a window. How are we supposed to experience the world and find our true calling in life when only the luckiest of us get a couple of weeks off from work each year?

It would be great if I could turn this whole passion of “not giving a fuck” into a career. Playing by the rules is boring. Listening to the advice of your high school guidance counselor, the corporate Director of Human Resources, or the virtue-signaling “business culture” garbage on LinkedIn is a waste of time. I believe it’s mostly intended to keep the “plebs” in their place — “obedient workers” as comedian George Carlin would say…

“You know what they want? They want obedient workers. Obedient workers, people who are just smart enough to run the machines and do the paperwork. And just dumb enough to passively accept all these increasingly shittier jobs with the lower pay, the longer hours, the reduced benefits, the end of overtime, and the vanishing pension that disappears the minute you go to collect it, and now they’re coming for your social security money.”

“Thay want your fuckin’ retirement money. They want it back so they can give it to their criminal friends on Wall Street, and you know something? They’ll get it. They’ll get it all from you sooner or later cause they own this fuckin’ place. It’s a big club and you ain’t in it.”

“You and I Are Not in the Big Club”

The struggle of the people is real. If we’re excluded from the big club, we need to build a club of our own. But how do we accomplish that when these modern-day robber barons continue plundering the means of production?

We don’t know who first defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result,” but it’s true. I’ve spent over 25 years in a career, changing jobs more often than some people change underwear — only to run into the same problems over and over again.

To truly embrace the “not giving a fuck” philosophy, keep your mind open to possibilities outside the boundaries of what society considers acceptable. It seems to me anything is possible these days. It’s time we all take steps toward controlling our destiny. The more hard labor you pour into paving your road, the more control you have over the direction it leads.

A life full of synchronicity has revealed a path forward for me combining my love of art, adventure, exploration, and pushing myself to the limits. At the crossroads, I found my mission statement…

Enlist the People to Fund My Permanent Vacation

That’s Ridiculous!

Trying to earn a living by going on vacation might sound rather obnoxious on the surface, but consider this…

The People Paid $55 Thousand for a Potato Salad

With my first job as a teenager working at Burger King, I was convinced that working in the foodservice industry is for losers. Boy was I wrong!

I’ve heard of people paying $6 thousand for a cheeseburger in Vegas, but that pales in comparison to what backers of a Kickstarter campaign forked over for a potato salad back in 2014. $50 thousand for a potato salad? Who the fuck pays 8 times more for the side dish than the entré? The best part is the guy didn’t even have to feed any of his customers. He ate that potato salad himself!

When people tell me that I’m going to end up becoming another “starving artist” for chasing a dream, I have to keep in mind people are willing to pay a guy more than $50 grand to eat a fucking potato salad that he made for himself.

The People Will Hand You Millions for Beer

I had friends who worked at an inner-city beer distributor. At night, the homeless would take up positions over a 3 block radius with their plastic cups, chicken buckets, cardboard signs, and sob stories about trying to raise enough money to catch a bus. Their hooks set, for any passers-by who would take the bait.

The minute these bums raised enough money for a case of $5 swill, they would line up and start banging against the metal gate stretched across the doorway meant to keep them out. All those sob stories about catching a bus? I think what he meant to say was “I’m trying to catch a buzz.”

Occasionally I’d stop by and visit my friends to hang out and witness the chaos. These vagrants were so ridiculous that when my friends opened the gate to let me out of the store, I’d be surrounded by these bums and their sob stories about trying to catch that bus before my friends could close the gate!

“STOP! Back the fucking bus up right now homey. I just handed you a case of ‘Beast Ice’ through that slot in the gate and you don’t have any money left over for the bus?”

If they were honest about their intentions, they could have raised over $3 million. There’s only one problem. You’re gonna need a much bigger chicken bucket.

When some poor college frat boy needed a supply of cheap swill, a sign with his Venmo username and “Busch Light Supply Needs Replenished” was all it took to convince the people to chip in over $3 million to the cause. Held up during a nationally televised “College GameDay” broadcast on ESPN, the guy’s phone blew up and he made $400 in the first half-hour.

I always say the only 2 things most American men care about are beer and football, and this is proof. Blending the two like this? Pure marketing genius! In full disclosure, I’ll have to say that a majority of the money came through after the kid announced he’d be donating all of the proceeds to charity, after buying a single case of beer for himself.

Anheuser-Busch knows that you can’t buy this much good PR if you have the budget for a dozen Super Bowl commercials. They told this guy to pass that last case of beer money over to Children’s Hospital. In exchange, Busch would send him a year’s supply of beer, complete with his face and name on customized cans.

I’m not sure if Busch is aware of the difference between a year’s supply of beer for a house full of college frat boys versus an average household. Regardless, I would be damn careful throwing any big parties if there will be hundreds of beer cans lying around with my face and name printed on them.

People immediately conclude that I’ll end up homeless trying to pursue a life of travel and adventure. So in a way, this web site is like my chicken bucket. I’ll be perfectly honest. If you throw money into my chicken bucket right now, I might run out and buy a case of beer.

I don’t drink shitty beer. Therefore, I don’t believe holding a sign during a college football game with “Please Replenish my Supply of Delirium Tremens” would have the same kind of pull. Even though people are fine with handing over beer money to strangers, I’m not comfortable living off the kindness of others. That’s why I’ve always had a job.

When you drop your hard-earned money into my chicken bucket, you’re helping a starving artist in exchange for a nice piece of art to hang on your wall. Depending on the size of the print, I might spend that money on McDonald’s, beer, hookers and blow, a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, or maybe I’ll add some new video games to my collection.

“Video Games Rot Your Brain”

It turns out my parents were full of shit when they told me I would never accomplish anything playing video games all day. Yeah, spending my nine-to-five in a recliner playing Call of Duty making six-figures per month would suck. Thanks for steering me away from that mom.

I’m raising my kids differently. I taught my first child to “Do good in school;” “Go to college;” “Work hard;” “Be on time;” “Study hard;” “Do your homework;” “Do the right thing;” and all of that traditional nonsense. Now she is about to get her Master’s degree, and eventually a Doctorate.

With my second child, I said “Fuck school. You need to get good at playing video games and learn how to use YouTube.” Hopefully, this tactic will result in at least one child who can buy daddy a house someday. That’s a right of passage for anyone’s kids who’ve made it big in this world. Ask Gary Coleman’s parents how that works.

Sure, my first child can make a lot of money with her fancy college degree, but have you seen how much these fucking kids are being paid to play video games? There are examples of gamers making $3-10 thousand a month. Some are raking in millions!

“What’chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis?”

This shit ain’t no joke. The United States now recognizes “eSports” players as professional athletes. The U.S. customs department is now allowing video gamers from foreign countries to live here on professional athlete visas.

It won’t be long before we have another Lance Armstrong on our hands. After winning the Super Mario Brothers world championship 7 years in a row, we’ll find out he leveled-up with a speedball mixed with Adderall, Ritalin, and of course, magic mushrooms.

Who could blame him? There’s big money at stake. Look at 22-year-old Lee Young Ho, a professional gamer from South Korea. During his 7 years on the streets, this Young Ho (who goes by the street-name “Flash”) thought he was the big pimp in town, earning almost $500 thousand hustlin’ Starcraft tournaments. And then in a flash, a secretive Chinese National named Chen Zhihao showed up on the scene, walking away with over $1.1 million in 5 years.

I’m proud to say the American stick jockeys are performing much better. Take Griffin Spikoski for example, a new york teenager making over $200 grand a year from playing video games. This 14-year-old kid generates the equivalent income of a heart surgeon by spending 18 hours a day playing Fortnite. This kid has 1.2 million people watching him play a video game on YouTube. When I was a kid, we got pissed when someone wouldn’t pass the controller, but now here we are.

Not to be outdone by some 14-year-old kid, a 16-year-old kid named Kyle Giersdorf won $3 million by taking the top prize in a Fortnite tournament. Kyle wasn’t the only kid bringing home enough money to buy his parents a new house that day. Over 100 kids battled for $30 million in prize money. But fun as it may be to watch the kids playing Little League, Fortnite isn’t a kid’s sport. At 28-years-old, veteran gamer Tyler Ninja Belvins is crushing these little brats, banking over $500 thousand a month playing the same game.

In a fortnight or two, these kids will have to look over their shoulders for 13-year-old Kyle Jackson, the youngest “Fortnite” player to become a professional gamer. Unfortunately for Kyle, his climb up the leaderboard is currently hampered by his 9 p.m. curfew, when parental controls kick in.

I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, I am for real. Don’t you make your gamer cry, let him play a trillion times. There’s no limit to his potential. Does it make sense to restrict your child from a career that pays $6 million a year to focus on his public education, where graduates earn an average yearly income of $50 thousand? This kid could make that much every 3 days playing video games.

According to this trend, long-term dividends increase exponentially the sooner you monetize your children. When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to play video games before cleaning our bedrooms. These days it makes more sense to scold your child for cleaning their room if they haven’t completed level 33 on Assassin’s Creed.

“Get back in your room until you level-up mister! Don’t you go folding your laundry or cleaning that room either! I expect to hear a bunch of blips and bloops coming from that door! Do you understand?” Locking your kid in the bedroom might be a great way to start putting money in the bank, but the parents of 8-year-old Ryan Kaji took this shit to another level.

$26 Million to Play With Toys

Ryan’s parents are the masterminds behind the YouTube channel “Ryan’s World.” As the highest earner on YouTube right now, Ryan is paid $26 million a year for “reviewing toys.” That’s right kids, an 8-year-old boy makes $26 million a year to play with toys.

MOM! What the fuck! Why didn’t you sign me up for this shit when I was a kid? I could have retired at 12 and enjoyed my teenage years. I’ll never get those years of my life back! I guess you weren’t interested in the houses, the cars, the private jet, and that Koala Bear farm in Australia. You could have exploited your kid with enough funds left over to keep him from growing up to be a shopping mall security guard.

What the fuck man! I played with toys for free all the time! We carried out “Operation Desert Storm” with G.I. Joe in the sandbox. We flew the Millenial Falcon through the uprights of the staircase. We even set the back of Michael Jackson’s hair on fire after that Pepsi commercial.

In the end, I really can’t hold a grudge. Mom was just trying to protect her kids. Back then we didn’t have YouTube. The closest us kids could get to $26 million for playing with toys would be spending a weekend at Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. And when I think about it that way, I’m glad mom didn’t sign me up.

Why are you so Grumpy?

The people get on my case for being so negative and then turn around to celebrate a pissed-off cat by handing it millions of dollars. So I’m supposed to be happy and grateful for everything I have in life when there’s a fucking cat who made more money in a year than most of us will make in a lifetime?

Are you all trying to tell me that I can’t make a good living if I’m pissed off all the time, but a CAT gets paid millions of dollars for the same thing? Sorry, but I refuse to end up living out my golden years working as a broke-ass Walmart greeter eating cat food. Especially when a fucking cat is living in a mansion eating Filet Mignon every day for lunch.

Maybe I’m just grumpy because I haven’t had my morning Grumpy Cat “Grumpuccino.” Regardless, it was a serious wake-up call the day I realized that even a cat could make that much money!

CONTINUED…