The communist doesn’t think to increase the quality of the grid. The communist demands that you decrease the quality of your life.
They make you ration the things that every other American gets to enjoy. Every single time.
Ninety-nine percent of people in the world are convinced they are incapable of achieving great things, so they aim for the mediocre.
The level of competition is thus fiercest for “realistic” goals, paradoxically making them the most time- and energy-consuming.
If you are insecure, guess what? The rest of the world is, too.
Do not overestimate the competition and underestimate yourself. You are better than you think.
Unreasonable and unrealistic goals are easier to achieve for yet another reason.
Having an unusually large goal is an adrenaline infusion that provides the endurance to overcome the inevitable trials and tribulations that go along with any goal. Realistic goals, goals restricted to the average ambition level, are uninspiring and will only fuel you through the first or second problem, at which point you throw in the towel.
If the potential payoff is mediocre or average, so is your effort.
The fishing is best where the fewest go, and the collective insecurity of the world makes it easy for people to hit home runs while everyone else is aiming for base hits.
There is just less competition for bigger goals.
If you are waiting to take a risk, you are highly underestimating how fast time flies away from you
Will wake up one day and realize that a decade passed by while you kept saying “maybe next year”
Tom Brady says his doctor told him to cut the tendons in both legs. He refused, fixed it in 3 days with no surgery, and played till 45
“After the season, I tell the doctor, My groin’s just really sore all the time. Every time I move, I can feel it just grab”
“And the team doctor says, This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to do an adductor release, we’re going in there and cut the adductor tendon in your groin. We’re also going to cut the other side, so it never becomes a problem”
“And I was like, Okay, that sounds not like what I want to do”
“I called Alex when I left the office. I said, Alex, the doctor told me to do this adductor release. What do you think? He said, Absolutely not. Fly out to LA with me for 3 days and I’ll fix it”
“So I fly out there and worked the adductors, lengthened and softened both muscles, my hips, all my glutes, basically relieved the tension on the tendon. And 3 days later, no more pain”
“The doctor said there was a 99% chance he’d have to cut my adductor tendon at some point. And to this day, nothing”
@GavinNewsom He started presenting as more moderate in preparation for a presidential run… and then he saw a bunch of communists win in New York and said “no actually let’s go the other direction”
I went to In-N-Out and ordered a cheeseburger. The cashier, a calm young woman named Destiny, asked me a question I did not expect.
"You want that Animal Style?"
I paused.
I did not know what this meant. But a samurai does not admit he does not know. So I answered with weight.
"...Animal Style."
"Cool. So that's mustard-grilled, extra spread, grilled onions, pickles. Yeah?"
I understood now. This was a sacred permission. For one meal, I was being told to put down my manners at the door. To eat the way a beast eats, without shame. I had waited my whole life for someone to give me this order.
"Yes," I said. "I will become the animal."
Destiny did not blink. "...Okay. You want your fries Animal Style too?"
I stopped. Even the potatoes?
"The potatoes also become animals?"
"I mean, they get cheese and sauce and grilled onions, so..."
"Then yes. Let the potatoes abandon their restraint as well."
"...Got it." She was the calmest woman I have ever met. "3x3, 4x4, or just the one?"
I did not know these numbers, but I knew a challenge when I heard one. "How many must I face?"
"It's, like, how many patties you want."
"How many is the most honorable?"
"...Four is a lot."
"Then four. A warrior does not ask for fewer."
She wrote it down without argument. A 4x4, Animal Style, with animal fries. She warned me once, kindly. "That's gonna be huge." I told her I was counting on it.
It arrived. It was a tower. Cheese and sauce ran down my hands the moment I lifted it. There was no clean way to eat it. There was no dignified way. That was the entire point.
I ate it like a beast. Both hands, no honor, grilled onion on my chin, and I have to be honest with you, it was the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.
For thirty years I have kept my manners at every table in the world.
They handed me a burger and told me to be an animal, and I have never felt so free.
So tell me, America.
The whole country knows the secret menu. What else are you hiding in plain sight?
And "Animal Style." Was I eating the animal, or finally becoming one?