Three rational questions

As many of you know, I’m on a quest for self-improvement. It’s much like that movie, Quest for Fire, only I don’t run around bare-assed in an inarticulate rage, waving a bamboo pimpstick, humping every female who bends over for a drink of water. Coincidentally, Quest for Fire is on TV right now and it's the scene where...wait a minute... that's just a news broadcast from New Orleans. Sorry.

What was with Quest for Fire, anyway? Two hours of cavemen thundering around the globe looking for a Zippo lighter. Jeez. Why not just sent the blonde with the big tits and a wholly mammoth-skin halter top into a local bar with an unlit cigarette? Problem solved! Anyway, back to my self-help regimen: When I unearth a gem from the 100s of books and seminars I check out, I share it with my readers with the hopes that they, too, profit from its wisdom. The great satirist Dr. Lawrence Peter offers a series of three questions which aid in making rational decisions. They are:

1) Where (or what) am I?
2) Where (or what) do I want to be?
3) How do I know when I’m getting there?

Genius in their simplicity, these questions have awakened me. I think I’ve stumbled on some life-changing stuff here. I’ve been toying around with these three questions. What do you think?

1) Where am I? Sober
2) Where do I want to be? Drunk
3) How do I know when I’m getting there? When Rosanne Barr becomes a reasonably attractive women -- and her twin is pretty hot, too.

1) Where am I? Living paycheck-to-paycheck
2) Where do I want to be? Wealthy beyond measure
3) How do I know when I’m getting there? When I have a servant whose job description includes cooking, cleaning, windows, and giving my Johnson its “finishing tap” after my morning leak

1) What am I? A blue-collar schmuck
2) What do I want to be? A white-collar fat cat
3) How do I know when I’m getting there? When I have an embezzlement scam that would envy Martha Stewart, a marble desk with one of those executive basketball hoops over the trashcan, and enough middle management underneath me to blame for all of my financial boners

1) What am I? A miserable, hermitic misanthrope
2) What do I want to be? The cock of the walk and the belle of the ball
3) How do I know when I'm getting there? When that cheap bastard Carl buys me a drink at the local Denny’s bar. Hey Carl, ten years is a long time to hold a grudge. I had no idea she was your aunt!

1) What am I? The “before” picture in an ad for diet pills
2) What do I want to be? A sculpted, glistening statue of muscle and manhood
3) How do I know when I’m getting there? When J-Lo tells me she’d kill to have an ass like mine -- only without Elton John epoxied to it.

1 comment:

Spinning Girl said...

This was, again, SHEER GENIUS. I just read it to Leigh Yung Li and she laughed her proverbial ass off.