Archive for category musings

The Truth About Shaving


Expensive Razor Blades

Turbo Charged 4 bladed Razor

Do you really need four blades on your razor? I might be talking mostly to guys here, but maybe you gals have the same problem.

I’ve been shaving with a two-bladed Gillette Sensor Razor for about ten years. (I think it’s been ten years but time starts to warp after age sixty). I’m sure the Gillette Razor Blade Company hates me, and in fact, I think lately they’ve been doing something shady to move me up to a more expensive blade.

The Sensor blades I bought recently aren’t as good as the ones I used to buy. They don’t last more than a few days. I think blades that cost $1.80 each should last for a week. The “old” ones did. The new ones cut my face if I’m not careful. And they’re even a different color. I think Gillette has outsourced the Sensor blades to a manufacturer they very carefully researched to find the cheapest alternative with a reputation for making slightly inferior blades.

I say “slightly” because Gillette doesn’t want a consumer rebellion on their hands. They just want to irritate guys (and maybe gals) like me enough to move up to the four-blade turbo charged product that sells for about thirty-two bucks and change for a box of ten. That’s something like three bucks and change per blade. Are you getting my message?

I’m not going to be shamed or cajoled into buying more expensive blades. I’m going to fight this. My first response to this situation has been to buy a standard razor, the old-fashioned kind your Mom or Dad used. I get a closer shave, but I’ll admit it’s a little scary.  I have to be really careful. It’s a lot easier and safer to use a modern plastic razor. And I have to use my Sensor razor to get the spot right under my nose. So now I’m using two razors.

Shaving Perspectives

Mom and Dad’s Razor

The blades that come with my new old-fashioned razor cost seventy-seven cents each. That’s a big savings over the new improved technologically advanced models. But the problem is that now I have to use two razors. I clearly can’t go on using two razors.

Conclusions: I’ll have to go on using some version of the lower priced “modern” blade. I’m not going to fall for the lure of the four-blade model because I’m sure this “advanced” technology exists solely to satisfy the thirst for increased corporate profits.

I hope all of this helps.

 

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Words From A Far Are Not Enough


Mentoring Relationships

I enjoy reading words of inspiration as much as you probably do. I believe in the power of positive thinking. I love practicing the art of creative visualization. (My man Jordan Spieth, last week’s winner of the US Open Golf Championship, is the ultimate practitioner of creative visualization.)

Having said this, I have to say something more. You probably guessed I’d go on for a bit in this week’s blog. It takes more than a stranger’s words to affect lasting, positive change and success in any endeavor. It takes loving support from caring mentors. The ideal personification of this support comes from a set of caring, loving parents. Let’s take Jordan Spieth again as an example. He seems to have an ideal relationship with his loving, caring, teaching parents plus a monumental talent that have helped him to win two major golf titles in his young and promising career.

Jason Day, a young professional golfer from Australia, battled bravely through dizziness and nausea caused by vertigo to finish high in the US Open final standings. Jason, unlike his contemporary Spieth, did not have a strong connection with his parents while growing up. He had a troubled youth before meeting Colin Swatton at Kooralbyn, a golf-centric boarding school in south-east Queensland. Jason’s mother had to borrow money to send her son to Kooralbyn in a desperate attempt to do something about his delinquent behavior after his father died of stomach cancer when Jason was 12.

Colin Swatton was a golf instructor at Kooralbyn when he first met the head-strong, rebellious Day. Swatton’s non-confrontational style won Jason over. When Swatton moved on to teach at Hills International College, Day followed him. From there, Swatton became Day’s golf coach, mentor, close friend and full-time professional caddie. Jason Day is now one of the top-ranked golfers in the world with a family of his own and the admiration and affection of his peers.

After I’ve read a self-help book the inspiration and advice usually fade within forty-eight hours. Formulaic self-help exercises quickly become dry practices that yield little or lasting benefits. I picked up a few Wayne Dyer books a year ago and two things became immediately clear: (1) Wayne has a lot of nice things to say and (2) I could not practice or live what Dyer says if I tried for a million years.

So what does it take to move forward, achieve, and grow? To amplify what I said earlier, it takes a special personal relationship. It is a relationship that always accepts and honors who you are and where you are.  It can be a parental, mentoring, teaching, romantic, or friend to friend relationship. In the case of the first three, the relationship begins with the child, mentee, or student receiving more at first.  I’ve learned that over time the best of these relationships blossom into mutuality where both parties reap significant rewards. There’s an energy and information exchange in these relationships; call it love, call it caring and concern, call it chemistry. Whatever it is, it’s a radiant, magic elixir. It produces extraordinary human beings; some famous and others who live and work quietly outside of the limelight.

 

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About Nothing


doing nothing

Doing nothing can be fun or boring depending upon your outlook and level of creativity. What if you didn’t have to do anything except answer the call of nature and buy groceries? What would you do—or not do.

I think most of us would agree that doing absolutely nothing becomes boring. The real challenge, I feel, lies in staying very busy while actually doing very little of major consequence, especially anything that might cause the slightest bit of pain.

I’m at a point where I need to find something to do that I can tell myself is very important, yet doesn’t require a significant degree of sacrifice. I’m allergic to the word sacrifice in the same way Maynard G. Krebs was allergic to the word work.

I have a couple of major projects on the drawing boards that require the participation of other people. Until they are at liberty to work with me, I’m at loose ends.

This morning, I went into deep meditation with the intent of coming up with, at the very least, a brilliant idea for the blog you are now reading. I came up with nothing, nada, zilch. I wonder how this is possible. It’s not, by a long shot, the first time this has happened. Creative, constructive ideas come easily to some people. They have more ideas than they have time to manifest them. I have plenty of time but no ideas. This seems like an injustice.

I thought that by writing about nothing, a great idea would arise out of the void. Well, the void is still there. Where are you Mister or Miss Great Idea? How about if I settle for a medium idea? Still no?

How about ANY GOD-DAMNED CONSTRUCTIVE IDEA?

I think I’ll go have an iced soy latte.

 

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A License to Steal


LICENSE TO STEAL007 has a license to kill.  Insurance companies have a license to steal.  Here’s a typical example.

My mother suffers from back pain mostly due to her advanced age.  Her doctor prescribed lidocaine patches for the pain.  The patches are expensive, almost five hundred dollars per box.  My mother’s Blue Cross Blue Shield supplemental insurance declined to cover the patches.  Why?  According to BCBS, the FDA says the proper diagnosis for prescribing this patch is diabetes.  What?  Did BCBS make that up?  Sounds like it.

What’s the real reason for squirming out the responsibility to cover the patch?  Answer: it’s too damn expensive.  So let’s find a reason not to cover it.

According to AARP, 200 million insurance claims are rejected every year.  Insurance companies try to spread their risk and keep as much money in their organization for as long as possible as they “adjudicate a claim.”  They use auditing software to sift through millions of submitted claims.  These programs are often referred to as “denial engines” because their intent is to lower the amount of claims paid out.

Can we chalk this thievery up to rising medical costs?  No.  Insurance companies pay only a fraction of what doctors and hospitals charge.  I can hear the insurance company executives laughing in their Dayton, Ohio offices (which are located a long way from my little Starbucks table in Aventura, Florida.)

We need insurance reform badly.  I’m not talking about Obamacare. To facilitate their criminal activities, insurance companies hire supermen lobbyists with some of the money they should be paying out in claims.  They buy yachts, homes, Bentleys, commercial real estate, investment securities and commodities with the rest of their profits. They win. We lose.

It’s time for the public to start suing insurance companies en masse. My daughter is preparing to become a prosecutor. When she reaches the Federal level, watch out Aetna, Blue Cross, and all you other bums!

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Gas TV


Thank you gas stations across America for invading  one of the last bastions of peace and quiet I have (had).  I can no longer pump gas with only my thoughts to keep me company. Now I must listen to a moronic advertisement and a news sound bite repeated endlessly and finally an admonition at the end to like Gas TV on Facebook and Twitter. This request is the ultimate example of adding insult to injury.

Gas TV is a new phenomenon, yet I already yearn for the days when I could quietly observe the random mixture of people crossing paths at the gas station and wonder about their lives.

Are you happy? Are you sad? Are you stressed out?  What are you heatedly saying into your cell phone while making those intense gestures? Who is on the other end? What is your relationship?  Are you always enmeshed in some daily drama of one kind or another? Are you well-to-do or have you spent your last dime to impress me with that Mercedes 550e?

I miss the opportunity a gas station stop provided to take inventory of my day’s to-do list.  Gas TV has also stolen the precious minutes I had to re-assess my existential situation.

Gas TV is some asshole’s greedy idea to make money any way possible without regard to my peace of mind.  It is another idiot’s stupid decision to buy it.

Let’s take a poll. Who thinks we need Gas TV? Please raise your hand.

If your hand is not in the air, complain to the gas station manager.

Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.

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Highest and Best Use


There is a phrase I learned when I was a commercial real estate broker;  “the highest and best use of a property.”

As time passes, economic conditions and neighborhoods change. A commercial property originally built as a three-storey parking garage can have higher income potential and use if it is torn down and rebuilt as a high-rise office building.

I feel something analogous is happening to me as my awakening unfolds. The highest and best use of the property given to me, my body, is evolving into something that can be of more use to me in terms of enjoyment and of greater use to others.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m morphing into, but I’m positive it’s not a new X-Man character. I’m excited to find out who I become. In the meantime, I’m writing a few more blogs.

Photo: http://www.barnabyisright.com

realize consciousness

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I Am Who I Am*


divine humanI’m growing out of this idea of “becoming a better person.”

Now, it’s more like honing my skills or adding another tool to the toolbox to move forward in this process of becoming.

It seems to me that self-improvement is just a concept with no substance, no foundation in the field of Reality.

My daughter emailed me a list of 30 “Earth Shaking” self-help books. I said, “Danielle, I’ve read more self-help books than you have miles on your five year-old car. None of them helped, but this practice of Waking Down is transforming my life.”

I wasn’t trying to convert my daughter. I was just speaking my truth.

*I may have stolen the title of this blog from Popeye.

Photo: http://www.soulmirror.net

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