The Little Words Mean the Most

Interesting day; learned SO much about bequest marketing

 

Don't know where to start

 

I'm reeling with ah-has and new perspectives, thanks to Dr. Russell James. I took 4 full pages of penned, flying, truncated notes scribbling as fast as I could. I'll revisit the recording to get the full, accurate text ... and share on my e-news what I've learned.

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We'd sold a 1.5-hour training webinar, to teach the basics of bequest marketing. With guest expert weighing in, Dr. Russell James.

He'd stolen the show ... even when he stepped away for an hour to teach a university class.

There were so many -- scores of -- comments in his wake. It was a record response: we'd never received so many questions. For 3.5+ hours, questioners kept asking. Dr. James went away for an hour. Then he came back. Then we continued.

A record # of attendees joined to learn about the Great Wealth Transfer and how to partake: 8 countries, 4 continents, 44 US states + DC, 8 Canadian provinces....

 

 

OK, I thought this would be easy enough: "Monitoring" your office behavior is the new term for "surveillance"

 

Let a few friends know that I planned to change my e-mail address. Close a 30-year technology gap. Flush the toilet. Start over with BFFs.

 

Thinking about that, I laughed aloud in my home office ... and out of nowhere a robot wanted to know if I wanted paper or plastic or platinum handcuffs.

 

Huh?

 

My computer "minotaurs" my behavior? To what good end?

 

There are 330 million residents in America. The best good is all of them agree on which fashion handcuffs to choose? Now this is scary. I didn't know I was being "monitored." Without my knowledge or consent. But I am.

 

AND YOU ARE, TOO! I would say I am under surveillance. But our benign overlords hate that term. They prefer this: I am simply being monitored.

 

OK: I figured the "deep state" was nuts because the people who spoke about it were CLEARLY nuts (newly elected GPO house reps from MO) ....

 

Nothing about the "deep state" (Plan A: pull aluminum covers over one's head; tuck tightly; press microwave button labeled POPCORN) made sense.

 

Like there were two kinds of gravity.

 

Gravity one: your pants fall down. Gravity number two: your pants stay up ... but your neighbor's pants fall down, exposing his bony knees.

 

Oh, shit

 

 

 

She wants to know why, me, loud athiest, listens to Christian rock....

 

????

 

I dunno.

 

Good rock is good rock. Great musicians? Half the time I can't understand the lyrics anyway.

 

I'm moved is all. And you know what's the amazing part? I learned this from Alan Clayton in Slovakia. He started his workshop by playing some hard-rock song. He told us to get up on our feet ... and dance. And then after a minute or so he shut off the music; we settled back into our chairs. He said, "That's how fast you can change someone's emotions."

 

Now that's teaching.

 

love

 

dad

 

 

 

 

Dear Me Butterfly: Have I grown dead wings?

 

what surrounds me

doesn't interest me

enough?

enough?

 

Suffering strep throat? Me, too. PSA below: Remedies I found recently....

 

HERE. It's that time of year.

Strep throat is a bacterial infection. It entered my Thunderdome last week, after a hike with friends and a meal. Strep is highly contagious. You can pick it up just by touching an unclean door knob at a restaurant's rest room (so, yes, continue washing your hands a lot ... and do NOT touch your face).

Anyway, America's shambolic (trust me, your first guess will be right, if you don't already know the adjective) health-case system has hit the jackpot: Covid-19 variants multiply faster than bunnies; flu remains a strong seasonal force to be reckoned with; there's a new player: RSV; and then there's this long-time teacher's pet, strep throat.

Bottom line: I can't get an appointment with a doctor anywhere within driving distance in near-2023.

Yet I can't swallow.

Understand: I LOVE my docs; they amaze me; I'm grateful.

But the SYSTEM (the web we're trapped in) isn't ready ... and 2022-2023 is a MILD test of America's "health-care system."

We all need to hear the demographic REAL truth about aging populations and our society's ability to cope (it can't yet ... or even close; although if you work in the non-profit sector you're trying to be helpful ... ).

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The Mayo Clinic online pretty much confirmed my self-diagnosis. Low-grade fever. Headaches.

Worst symptom from my head down? Excruciating to swallow. Even a tassel of gently descending saliva bends me in half: with shouting pain. Try to stealth a much-needed pill down my throat, shielded past by an innocent luke-warm sip of water: puts me on my knees. Prognosis?

For two days my nutritional intake has been the occasional honey lozenge, all my throat would tolerate.

I've started to pray ("Dear Simone... If you can hear me...."). Finally, I find a doctor who will talk to me via telemedicine; PlushCare it's called. The online doc is careful. Thoughtful. Probing. Exhaustive. She prescribes! I rush to my nearest pharmacy.

Miracles happen.

And hallelujah in little more than a day my tonsils-flogged-across-broken-glass, those dramatic unh-unh swallowing symptoms begin to subside. Organs begin to rehydrate, expanding like kitchen sponges. Body shouts: eat! I hire an Uber. "Take me to the nearest All-You-Can-Eat buffet with a full liquor license."

The sun sets on another infection.

In the end I wondered, should I have gone to YouTube first? Here's what I found. Sounds solid, too.