When I was much younger and full of the proverbial “teen angst,” my mother used to tell me “you can choose to be happy or choose to be miserable; it’s your decision.” At the time, I used to feel so frustrated with her for not being miserable with me. But being a young teen in school kept me in the company of other teenagers who seemed even more of a drag than I was! Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since I found myself repeating my mother’s words to my peers, because–get this, I felt emotionally held down! (Let’s just say it was maturity kicking in.) When I caught myself repeating my mother’s favorite response to tantrums, I had one of those rare epiphanies that changed my life and my outlook from that moment on!

MOM WAS RIGHT!

Suddenly, every little thing that bothered me was rendered less important than my CHOICE to just be HAPPY. I’ve lived positively ever since, and intend to share my mother’s wisdom with everyone, even if you think I’m annoying for doing so! Because no matter who you are, there is benefit in a simple reminder that you CAN choose to be positive! I’ve learned first hand from the power of positivity. Now do your part and pass it on!

1 $0.01
2 $0.02
3 $0.04
4 $0.08
5 $0.16
6 $0.32
7 $0.64
8 $1.28
9 $2.56
10 $5.12
11 $10.24
12 $20.48
13 $40.96
14 $81.92
15 $163.84
16 $327.68
17 $655.36
18 $1,310.72
19 $2,621.44
20 $5,242.88
21 $10,485.76
22 $20,971.52
23 $41,943.04
24 $83,886.08
25 $167,772.16
26 $335,544.32
27 $671,088.64
28 $1,342,177.28
29 $2,684,354.56

30 $5,368,709.12

Pretty incredible huh? Notice how in day 7 (after a whole week) you still only have $0.64 cents!! Some people might give up at that point thinking they were never going to make much. Heck, after 2 weeks on day 14 you still only have $81.92. It’s really amazing how the power of one (doubled each day since One is NEVER JUST ONE) can compound things so drastically that in just 2 more weeks you would have over $5 Million.

If we relate this to our businesses, I hope you can see the parallel. Sometimes we feel as though we are on day 14 and just not getting anywhere…..and yet we may be just ONE enrollment away from the preverbal $5 Million dollar prize just 2 weeks away!! For example: Executive Director VI Rick Jongkind was only a D2 after 6 Months in this business…….it was at that point he decided to start treating it like a business, looking for the right business partners and making sure they got started right when he found them. That month, April of 1995, He enrolled ONE new customer -Rod and Ingrid McCarroll……..AND….. 3 months later Rick was a Senior Director! And not long from now, I’ll be one too, thanks to my personal dedication to my own business!

Many people have brought their concerns to me about the ability to make a real income with building a Melaleuca business… and all I can say is: it’s a job like any other…  it requires hard work, perseverance, a attitude! I’ve had friends give up before they really gave it a chance … and although I respect their decision, I can’t help but feel bad about their loss of such an awesome future income! As someone who’s already rolling up an impressive next compensation check, I just want to share how I’m living the success I chose, and would love to help others do the same! 

＊メラルーかオフィシャル＊

EMAIL: Merenz.WAHU@gmail.com

このビデオはビジネス情報を説明しないでそれは単一プロダクトだけです。ビジネスについての細部については、英語によって私に話さなければならない。

But perhaps many cities could benefit from alternative forms of law enforcement. After all, in modern society, an increase of mental soundness among regulation violators could significantly improve social conditions in any metro area. Take for instance this scenario: I propose Houstonian civil engineers implement a design for a more Feng Shui metro roadway system in our great city. The proposal should note that traffic accidents might be less stressful if the majority of collisions were situated in cosmically sound directions. I base my suggestion on a belief that by mandating all streets run in a west-to-east direction prior to 12:00 p.m., and the opposite thereafter, a noticeable increase of positive energy flow through drivers’ vehicles would be measured. All parties involved would be of sound temperament and react to their collision rationally. And although there is a potential increase of auto accidents on account of poor visibility from sunlight, such Nirvana resulting from accidents would reduce if not eliminate hit and runs within city limits, as well as many people’s ability to arrive at work. This, of course, will be on account of no existing route to work if you must travel away from the sun to get there. The benefit is a decrease in accidents that occur en route to one’s workplace, canceling the predicted increase previously mentioned, just another advantage of adding a little alternative spiritual medicine to our culture.

The only foreseeable disadvantage to this proposal is the predicted resistance from companies such as Allstate, Geiko, and Statefarm. The new wave roadway system I propose will certainly increase the business of insurance companies, but eventually decrease their profit cash flow in the long haul. This resistance from insurance claims representatives has the potential to ultimately reform the institution of insured drivers drastically, a civil crisis for which I currently have no proposed solution at this time. But since those individuals make up a small population of our community, I believe this proposal will meet little more opposition, and will be met with enormous reception on this November’s voting ballot, assuming voters have no problem with their rates going up astronomically.

There should be no questioning the motivations of this movie, and yet people speculate. Or expectorate. Whichever. This study has found several people, like Bill O’Reilly, constantly attempting to polarize situations in the news, both political and social, to push their narrow-minded principles like fecal matter through a PLAY-DOH fun factory playset. And the most interesting phenomenon is, whenever a person afflicted with “motivated cognition” (MC) is presented with facts or opinions contradictory to his or her outlook, he or she becomes even more convinced of previous existing beliefs, creating this false sense of equilibrium that is in fact, nonexistent. FOX News, in that respect, can be viewed as the Danvers Asylum of televised journalism. The most famous example of this type of delusion is Bill O’Reilly presenting his biased journalism as “impartial.”

Like any mental affliction, MC, also known by its common name, journalism insanity, is not something afflicting the patient 24/7. So a sane observer can see a glimmer of real-world understanding by the patient (note O’Reilly having no delusional episode when expressing concern that men are under appreciated and their importance in a family with children isn’t emphasized enough in our society.) Yet, no sane statement from Bill O’Reilly can stand alone without an recurrent pathological abnormal tick of insanity, as O’Reilly’s asserts that single women having children is “not optimum.” But it is grossly unfair to fault him for that mental spasm. Even though the phrase “not optimum” blatantly screams incoherency, we have to remember that it is an opinion born of acute mental illness that is improperly treated by the medical staff at FOX Asylum.

For those sensitive readers who still feel disheartened by the babbling of a sick man, this is for you: Most of us know there are thousands of women who support single motherhood. Those women are not brought down by the crazytalk of a FOX NEWS ASYLUM patient. For manywomen at Aniston’s age, having children while single is the best route for them. Especially when that percentage of women are afflicted with advanced hypermasculine deficiency (the final stage of the horrible defect some women suffer from birth called “shrewicitis.”) But this is a condition best left for observation by professionals in that particular medical field.

Focusing back on Bill O’Reilly, we can also note a psychological demonetization of Jennifer Aniston for making an allegedly poignant movie that speaks pointedly at preteens with a subliminal, ulterior agenda that implies an inadequacy all men have as fathers. This is a fascinating evolution of “daddy syndrome” once only found to afflict young women raised in fatherless homes, now can clearly be observed devastating the mind of a father (side note: O’Reilly is a father of two, a son and a daughter.)

Oh, but don’t think Billy O is the only nutjob I’m here to poke fun at. A secondary subject worthy of medical observation said, “[y]oung people do not have the [cognoscibility] to know the difference between a 40-year-old woman who’s financially stable having a child, and a 16-year old having a child.” Okay! We see an interesting projection of one woman’s thought process onto the female pre-teen population. It’s a form of denial where one attempts to place one’s own misunderstanding into the heads of others, in order to avoid attention to her own symptoms. This subject has also been known to point at a brunette and call her blonde in an attempt to draw attention away from her own idiocy. She’s one of our special case subjects, so it was vital to put her in a discussion with O’Reilly for scientific study.

In a special one on one with the patients, highly qualified doctors did attempt to present ideas to them in order to measure the reactions. Ideas such as: “It’s not Aniston’s responsibility to teach young girls when having children is the appropriate time.” And, “a mentally healthy person knows Aniston’s job is to make movies that set a strong example for very young women that men are just heartless sperm donors who will marry you one day, leave you for someone sexier the next, and the only way for a girl to truly find happiness is to get herself knocked up by a turkey baster at a house party after your best friend makes a poor decision while drunk.” The results were mixed, but the conclusion was that only crazy people think that it’s Aniston’s responsibility to teach twelve and thirteen year old girls to become part of a teen pregnancy statistic. It was also noted that only a crazy person would believe that preteen girls cannot discern the difference between themselves and Jennifer Aniston.

Okay, I realize I ran way to far with this fake psychologist b.s. So I have wrap this up seriously, by asking in lieu of yet another of the O’Reilly Factor’s unnecessary collywobbles, if a woman says, “I am woman, hear me roar,” does that equal “all men are as meek as mice?” Bill O’Reilly may have a right to feel for the father’s out there who are, as he said, “getting hosed.” But he shouldn’t misconstrue the right of a woman to have children on her own to be somehow degrading to his sex. The two are not mutually exclusive. Woman having power does not mean men lose it. Women being single mothers does not equal men are all weak and pathetic fathers. Where’s that balance his show boasts? It’s imaginary. Once again, O’Reilly took a situation in the media and twisted it to suit his own prejudice. It’s unsettling how many people believe him to be this great, neutral voice in journalism. He’s a misleading fraud, and more of a danger to society than he claims Jennifer Aniston to be. I vote we institutionalize him and treat him for delirium.

Okay, so here’s the deal: I’m in a wonderful relationship with a man named Josh who’s an only child to a remarkable woman named Marla, and her lowlife ex-husband. We all call him “Ass Wipe.”

Side note… Ass Wipe had to name his sister his power of attorney in order for Marla to divorce him three years after he left her for a new life and wife in Indonesia or some Delinquent’s Paradise. This “failure of a spouse and father” has damned Marla to a life of considerable emotional and financial struggle, hence we refer to him by the aforementioned nickname.

…stick with me, I promise this story will tie into Memorial Day!

Anyway, occasionally I’m put in a prickly position when people ask me what Josh’s parents do for a living (people are meddlesome like that.) And since the story is much longer, and far more theatrical than what little I’ve exposed in today’s pickle, I explain sincerely, “well, Marla is a fiery waitress and a blast to hang out with and I love her to death. And ‘Ass Wipe’ died suddenly of a major character flaw.” This metaphoric death I invented, by my rationalization, was basically a favorable sacrifice. Ass Wipe’s son and wife deserved to be free of his odious influence, and a made-up demise seemed fitting. And anyway, I figure Ass Wipe’s pathetic flight from familial obligation is a perk, really… one in a really good costume. After all, Josh and Marla are very important to me, and I met them post Ass Wipe, so I feel I have the freedom to loath him without ever having the displeasure of making his acquaintance.

Side note secundus… this rationale might also be my unjustly optimistic attempt to find anything good about Josh’s prenatal sperm donor.

So yeah, in my own potentially unhinged way, I was planning to silently celebrate my first Memorial Day weekend with my Josh and Marla over a BBQ pit, not only observing our fallen freedom martyrs, but also celebrating the fact that my new adopted family is fantastic, thriving, and close-knit… all thanks to Judas Progenitor and his sickening desertion. Without him, we could celebrate happily.

But then again, celebrating was only a tentative plan. Actually, the whole holiday weekend felt ruined the moment Josh received word that Ass Wipe didn’t stay dead. He’s back in town, looking for work, and living a mere smattering of blocks up the street from us. After four years of silence and rejection, Daddy’s home. Happy Memorial Day!

Side note finale… the same day Ass Wipe returned I woke from a nightmare where I met the bastard in the worst possible fashion. I never gave the man a serious thought before today, and suddenly I dreamt he was standing in my living room, demanding to know who I was. Now this objectionable prophecy hangs in the dimension of potentiality. I hate precognition. Makes me realize how lucrative nonfiction could be as a source of entertainment… yet I still can’t seem to write anything factual with the fascinating and marketable twists that seem too unlikely to be real. And I bet this whole pickle would have been much more interesting to my readers if I focused on the prophetic side to this story. But no, I focused on the death and rebirth side with a twist of optimism and an unfair metaphor involving our Nation’s troops. See, this is why I should stick to fiction and poetry. I can’t competently do nonfiction. But thanks for reading, regardless.

but the memories were in grayscale,
and it doesn’t really matter.

I asked to hear a story of his past
long gone, if it weren’t elapsed.
He said,
“I was born in eighty-four,”
and that was that—was the past.

Then the sun drowned in the hills, dead
and floating in the fleshy,
white gold waves.
The last bees drew their evening’s
honey dust
as we lolled in the grains, awake.

It hurts to think his golden past
won’t amount to more than silver.
Every thought,
dream and memory,
for me, is full in water color.

Then a wasp landed
on my lips,
dug his feet into the gloss.
I wondered if there’s such a thing
as wanting what you’ve got.

I let his needles touch me,
wary of the sting.
His orange and blackness will
haunt me.
But he won’t remember a thing.

I peeled a hotdog today
To see what lies beyond the casing.
Vulnerable and sick in its nakedness,
It lay in my hand with all the glory
Of an aborted fetus.

When I looked at the fuzzy flute,
I wondered if its former shell
Resented the fate of intestinal skin,
As it lay in fleshy piles
Of swine, shaved from its meaty spine.

I once read an article about pigs,
Donating their organs for transplant,
Sacrificing a porky life for Lou
To have a new heart.

Bacon destroyed the first one.

Cholesterol,
Like peanuts, pet dander, and pollen,
Remind us that we are mortal.
So I snort hard to clear my sinuses
And pop Claritin, Tic-Tacs, and Ricola.

I’m not gonna die today, Juan.
I’m just gonna bisect this hotdog.

(I wrote this last Tuesday. C&C welcome.)