What Not to Do on The Most F*cked Up Memorial Day Weekend Ever

OK. Admit it. I mean, seriously, isn’t 2020 the biggest shit show of our lives? And that, my dear friends, makes this Memorial Day weekend the most f’cked up ever.

I’ve only watched 20 minutes of news all week and what I saw were mass graves in Brazil where the Coronavirus is decimating an impoverished society, Secretary of Sate Pompeo having Trump fire the Inspector General, 4th one fired in six months, whose only crime was preparing to report that Popemo the Pompus is illegally using taxpayer money to garner campaign donations while using an assistant to walk a dog, Trump touring a Michigan mask factory not wearing a mask, a mask wearing Costco employee tossing a “free man” from the store for not wearing a mask, Trump proclaiming more deaths is good thing because America has more virus cases and deaths because we do more testing (another lie), two dams bursting in Michigan and flooding locked down residents from their homes, and a few more horrible things my slashed and burned mind cannot process right now.

Wow. Maybe I need to reduce my news intake to 5 minutes a week? Geez, even my yogini wife Elizabeth was in bad mood for a day this week. That’s my job!

Hmm. I sound negative. But these are depressing times. Accept reality. Here’s a positive offering that’s great for meditating away the negativity.

 

So, if you are with me in boycotting the Jordan ego-fest this weekend, what should we not do on f*cked up Memorial Day weekend ever? That is besides not watch the depressing and divisive as hell news? A weekend while half us in America are playing it safe at home while the other half are crowding beaches, restaurants, parks and you name it to build towards wave 2 by choosing to believe the lies they want to hear from our mask-less leader?

Well, I’ll play contrarian and suggest you join me in NOT watching THE LAST DANCE on Netflix. At least not all time wasting 6 hours on it. Why? Because at the end of the day it’s success worship and a ginormous celebration of EGO.

Now, in fairness who can blame Micheal Jordan for having a bloated ego? The guy is a basically a modern day winged god compared to the rest of us flatfooted normies. The fame and endless butt kissing went to his basketball addled head.

Yikes. This ego-tripping life couch surfing docu-sports show brings back so many memories for me from the same time period where I too was treated like a god, a real estate one, while I was building a $162 million skyscraper and Oprah’s Harpo Studios. Shit. People waited for me to pass through a doorway first if we were in a group. My ego inflated too. I lost touch with reality like Mike. Losing it all in 1991-92 real estate crash where I lost it all, marriage included as unfamiliar failure was like acid in coursing my veins turning me into a wounded bear, was the best thing that ever happened to chop my YUGE ego down to size.

Here’s THE LAST DANCE trailer. Note Jordan’s bitterness that the team wanted build for the next generation of players, rather than give Jordan a shot at a sixth straight championship. His words, “We’re entitled to the fame we have until we lose it.” That’s ego talking, folks, and that’s the movie.

 

So what should we the one’s playing it safe, for ourselves, for the sake of the weak and less fortunate, do this weekend from hell?

1. Accept a virus has kicked America and the planet’s asses. We may be down. But we won’t stay there. But we’ll never grow from all this if we exist is fantasy world of ego.

2. Do something that’s yours. Write, paint, give each other a massages, sing karaoke, sculpt, cook, garden, etc. Just make it your own and don’t worry about making a viral video out of what you do. This is for you.

3. Be grateful you are still f*cking alive! This despite the fact we’ve been terribly on our own up to now and will be for the duration of this nightmare.

4. Love your mate, your kids, your dog, your cat, your cousins, your zoom pals and above all love yourself.

5. Tell ego-driven stars of biz, sports, film and politics like Musk, Trump and Pompeo. “I have my own life and you, Mr. or Ms. Bigshot, have zilch to do with it.”

And if you’ve completed all of the above and you do watch the Jordan piece, and I might too a little, witness the sobering progression of Michael devolving from a regular basketball player into a pampered ball-hogging self-centered egotist.

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