My Vigor Vivus Health Plan

You know me and my philosophy of life. I live by the principles of Vigor Vivus. Vigor Vivus is a term for the dynamic heart of life itself. It's opposite, which we so easily slip into, to our detriment, is Rigor Mortis, the static principle of death. Here's some of my exciting "teachings" on the subject:

The Dawn of Vigor Vivus
Teens Reject Rigor Mortis
Vigor Vivus -- I Command the World
Rigor Mortis vs. Vigor Vivus
Your Basic Problem is Rigor Mortis
Unveiling the March of Vigor Vivus
The Unremitting Shield of Vigor Vivus
Vigor Vivus at the Dentist
Teen Talk: Rigor Mortis vs. Vigor Vivus
Rigor Mortis Nix, Vigor Vivus Best Way
Bin Laden Mortis vs. Obama Vivus

I put "teachings" in quotes, because even though I myself believe it completely and live by it, for legal reasons I have to insist that the whole thing is "For Entertainment Purposes Only." But, you know, wink-wink, I recommend that you live by it, too. Although, again, for legal reasons, let me insist that you consult a trusted physician, or any old pay-as-you go quack will do just as well. By merely reading this blog post, you do solemnly swear, or affirm, that you will consult a doctor immediately, before believing a single word.

OK, all the legalese and lawyerly wrangling out of the way, Vigor Vivus is what we live by when we're in the fullness of life, but Rigor Mortis is death itself even in the midst of apparent life. I have known both, intimately. In fact, even for someone as immersed in these principles, it's still easy for me to slip into a Rigor Mortis state of mind. I hate to say it, but I feel like I've just recently come through a rather stormy place.

The inner clouds gathered, the inner sun was dimmed, the inner darkness thickened, inner lightning struck everywhere, and finally an inner tornado came and carried away much of my inner peace. It was only through the inner mobilization of an inner FEMA that I was able to eventually take refuge in an inner tent, then bit by bit rebuild a more permanent inner dwelling. But live and learn. I've reviewed the inner storm chasers' tapes, and vowed I shall never go through that again!

Immediately, I turned back to the principles of Vigor Vivus, once again putting Rigor Mortis to flight. I looked at myself and I didn't like what I saw. I was out of shape, a big problem. I wasn't eating right, I wasn't getting enough exercise, and I had my annual physical coming up in two month. Since I hate hearing my doctor tell me to do the right thing, I decided then and there, It's time! Vigor Vivus, don't fail me now!

This is all true, and, by the way, everything I do in life is strictly cold turkey. I quit eating all junk food, all deserts, ice cream, cake, Rice Krispies bars, wafer cookies, granola bars, potato chips, soda, etc. Instead, I've been eating oranges, bananas, eggs, veggies, peppers, grapes, hamburger, that sort of thing, and I've cut down on bread. No more bacon! All this has been a big help to me. But you know what it actually is? Having my mind on Vigor Vivus. That's how you do things cold turkey. You replace the thought processes of Rigor Mortis -- "I need this, I deserve that," even though it clearly leads to a type of death -- with the thought processes of Vigor Vivus: "I shall live the Vigor Vivus way!" (Remember, consult your local quack.)

Then I launched into an exercise program. I actually just now got back home and I'm sitting here still sweating. I joined a health club, so there I am huffing and puffing on the treadmill, lifting weights, pulling on various bars, laying on odd equipment with places to put your feet while you're doing ab crunches, etc. It's great, not just to see my own amazing physique (I'm down nine pounds), which I can do anytime, but to see the other sweating, grinding, beautiful writhing bodies all around me, some of them being extremely hot. I keep thinking, "Oh, to be 40 years younger! And not so adverse to STDs that I wouldn't touch another human being with a 10-foot pole!"

The exercise is great. And I'm sure you could make a case, however flimsy it might be, that it's chiefly the exercise and the diet that is helping me lose weight and regain my sense of well-being. I will grant you that these things are good, insofar as they go. But what you really need, behind it all, underlying the whole thing, is a philosophy, something you firmly believe, something that guides your thoughts and decisions. For me, that's the dynamic truth of Vigor Vivus!

I could go on, because I do other things that help keep me on track. Like feeding our feathered friends and watching their little antics. Natural activities, walking by the lake, meditation, spirituality. But you get the idea. No matter what it is, its benefits, it's all completely enlivened by fixing your mind on Vigor Vivus ... and letting Rigor Mortis, at long last, simply pass away...

The Ignorance Of The Purebred Libertarian Student

I love stories like this, where ideology screws up reality, and the guy ends up a total shipwreck. Usually, however, you don't have the pleasure of such a pure case; often you're faced with an admixture, generally rooted in a life somewhat inconsistent with the ideology. I was very fortunate to come across this story. It's pure! I'm sure that thinking of it will give me many pleasurable nights, sitting by a warm fire somewhere drinking brandy or something else.

OK, without further ado, we have a kid from a poor Libertarian family. That's the setting. For legal purposes I'm going to call him Walt.

Because Walt's family was poor, they couldn't afford to put him up in a private school teaching Libertarian values. And yet they didn't have the option of no schooling, thanks to the unnatural rules of government on compulsory attendance. And they couldn't home school him.

Walt was just a kid, but that didn't mean he hadn't imbibed his father's ideology. Dad made a point of loudly sharing his beliefs in limited government, taxes, individualism, and hyper-individualism. So when Walt got to school, he cried like a banshee. With him it was me, me, me; nobody could do him any good.

In short, he was completely uncooperative at school, because he didn't want to be on the public dole. That's how he put it. He felt he wouldn't be pulling his own weight were he to cooperate in a system based on taxpayer-funded institutions.

Even at five years old, he was a real go-getter with this nonsense. If the teacher tried to talk, he might put his fingers in his ears and go, "[various babbling noises]." Walt was extremely disruptive. They put him in the hall and passed him to the next grade as soon as possible.

He wouldn't take part in music, for the same reasons. He didn't want a publicly-supported instrument. He didn't care if it was a bass fiddle (large) or a piccolo (small), he had his crazy, inscrutable principles to abide by.

Other kids were advancing like mad, learning how to read and write, how to add and subtract, how to play their instruments, how to take care of their bodies in physical education, and so on. But not Walt! Walt was stuck with his pre-K mentality, except of course to the extent that he just naturally learned things once in a while by brute experience. Still, he started out a fool and was even a fool years later.

Years came, years went. Walt never brought home anything for the refrigerator door. As far as I can tell, his life was a blank, except for his stupid principles. Sad, but funny in a way.

He made it through school without learning much of anything, got his diploma, asked a friend what the damned thing said, and was told it said "Diploma." "That means you're smart." "Damned right I'm smart," Walt was able to vocalize, "smart enough to throw away this diploma, which was taxpayer-funded and not of my own making." Now that's radical!

Fathers, if you're wacky, a Libertarian, if you think UNICEF is a Communist plot to overwhelm the world with their well-fed healthy children (an element of the plot that should be mentioned), keep it to yourself. Your kids are worth more than that!

Commentary:  Is this a parable on modern times? Is it a condemnation of Libertarianism? Am I trying to make a large, relevant point? No, none of that, none whatsoever. It's simply the story of a kid, a purebred Libertarian, who imbibed his father's ideology, and managed to make it through school without learning a thing, simply because he wanted to pull his own weight and not be on the public dole.

The Criminal Life Teaches Good Values

I've always been a values guy, even back before I turned to a life of crime. You might remember me at some of the school board meetings. I was the guy who lobbied and won against the girls' basketball team wearing shorts. It was way too distracting for me and other red-blooded American men. So now we have the only team in sweatpants. I see it as a distinction.

Other than that, I learned lots of other good values growing up, like looking both ways before you cross the road. Not only is it the safest choice, it keeps drivers from going ballistic and honking their horns and waking up Dad, and saves you the beating of your life. I'm trying to think of some of the other values I learned, but I'm drawing a blank. Oh yeah: Wash your hands before meals and after going to the bathroom. For years, I did it the other way around.

Now that I'm in crime -- Hi, Machine Gun Ricky Wayward here -- I still conduct myself according to good values. And they still do me a lot of good. And that also goes for the guys in the outfit who happen to have rug rats who need to know how to live.

A deal's a deal -- You hear guys complaining, "We shook on it. A man's word is his bond." To me that's a wimpy way to handle it. Instead, simply stand on the truth, "A deal is a deal," and if the other bastard doesn't follow through, put a knife in his back, maybe he'll get the point!

Bring the hammer down -- No one gets anywhere in life with half measures. And that's especially true in crime. You have something to accomplish, get it done! You've got a job, something important to do, like offing some guy: BOOM! It's done, no delay. I might call this the principle of the Texas driver: There's two speeds, 0 and 150.

Keep your mouth shut -- I've always been able to keep confidences. And that's part of my life now. I have enough shit on people to put them away for a very long time. The mayor, the police chief, a couple ministers, various pillars of society, etc., not to mention other criminals. But I keep my mouth shut, and so anytime I need a solid, I have it.

Take time to schmooze -- This goes with keeping your mouth shut. People need to know you. Half your success is your connections. So you're schmoozing, showing confidence, a good spirit, a sense of joy, and, yes, ruthlessness. They'll know better than to pull a double-cross.

Trust your instincts -- Go with your gut, your instincts. A great example of this happened when I was schmoozing the other day. I was with some folks at a meeting and I just "sensed" someone was behind the curtains, waiting to ambush me. So I whipped out my gun and shot six rounds. Damned kids shouldn't have been playing back there!

Others are depending on you -- We're an organization, a team. If you fall asleep in the getaway car, you've hurt the whole team. As long as you're alive, we're in this together. You want to be on your own, stiffs are buried one at a time.

There's no second chances -- Get it right the first time. Don't come to me on your hands and knees. I don't want to hear it. And I'm not going to tell you twice, because that'd be a second chance.

No one likes a stoolie -- If you're a stoolie, just tell me now, because there's no reason for you to be wasting air.