Interests & Hobbies
Meaning of Life:
The purpose of life is to find a mode of being that is so meaningful that it renders the fact that life is filled with suffering irrelevant.
Pursue a state of being that is so meaningful, so purposeful, that it enables you to bear the harsh realities of life without becoming resentful, bitter, or cruel.
Nothing else you pursue in life will be half as useful or fulfilling as that.
Hobbies:
I was once having a conversation with a wise, drunken old man while at a corporate retreat, and he shared a bit of advice that has been transformative in my life.
He peered into my eyes, his gaze broken as his eyes darted to and fro, influenced by nystagmus that had been brought on by years of heavy drinking. He slowly reached up and put his weather hand on my shoulder and leaned in close, ready to share a story that I knew would be provocative and insightful.
He shared that he had been a philanderer for years, had consumed more booze than many could afford with a lifetimes' salary, and most impactful, he boldly stated, "I FUCKING HATE GOLF!"
From that moment, I knew that I too hated golf, and I needed to find another expensive hobby in which to spend my leisure time. I remained lost for a period of time, trying to seek out a hobby in which I could somehow mimic his disdain for the hobby in which he so eloquently and thoroughly had derided.
After many years, I found MFC. It was a way for me to spend money foolishly and recklessly. I could tap into his spirit of wasting money on sources of frustration and angst. I had found my source of hatred, spite, and it was filled with nearly as many backstabbing manipulators as any golf course one could imagine. It has become my calling.
Talents:
Once upon a time, I was walking by a feminist rally in downtown Austin and I was arrested for mistreatment of livestock.
You see, I had accidentally bumped into a protestor upon my hasty exit from the building I was meeting in, thus causing her to lose her balance, knocking her to the concrete of the sidewalk that was occupied by other feminists, liberals, and SJW's. This event was seen at a distance by a Trooper with the Texas department of agriculture.
Convinced that I had just committed an assault against a bovine, he rushed toward the screaming bleets emanating from her gullet, cries that were eerily reminiscent of a heifer that was set to be slaughtered as he assumed that a cattle must have escaped, or been stolen from a nearby slaughterhouse.
It was only when he fixed his gaze upon that blue hair that was flailing about, and his nostrils were overcome by the pungent stench of a pumpkin spice latte and patchouli oil, that he had realized what was happening.
Shortly thereafter, I was released from custody, and given a firm handshake as he wished me a good day, and safe travels.