Amateurs

America this country was built by Amateurs. George Washington was an amateur and I’m pretty sure he lost more battles than he won. The underground railroad was run by Amateurs. Lewis and Clark were Amateurs. Most our boys who stormed the beaches of Normandy were Amateurs and had never seen battle. Neil Armstrong was an Amateur he had never landed on the moon fuck no one had. Bill Gates, Amateur, started making computers in his mom’s garage. Amateurs have always been the explorers and trail blazers into the future and are immortalized as courageous resourceful Amateurs who like Han Solo Amateur are never concerned with the odds. I am and Amateur. Fuck didn’t even spell Amateur correct. I am the king of the run on sentence and couldn’t put a semicolon in the right place if you put a gun to my head or offered me Brazilian whore. But like my Amateur forefathers who sailed to this country and stole it from the Indians I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Four fucking years ago I started writing. I have filled over four composition notebooks, and lost even more. Four years ago I decided to try my hand at writing and when I say try my hand I mean go straight to the top. Like the phoenix I knew I would rise from nothing and have everything I want out of this life. How did I know I would get it? Faith. But not faith in God, Allah, Buddha, or the others. You have come to the wrong place if you want religion. All I will say on that topic is respect people’s religion.  But people with religion, it would be nice if you guys would keep it to yourself and stop dragging the rest of us into faith-based wars.  I had Faith that I can do anything I put my mind to. Faith that I am an unstoppable force. A rouge wave of pride, courage, intelligence, resourcefulness, kindness, respect, sexiness, and a fucking Virginia Gentleman.

Am I different? Yes, but we all are and there is something magical about that. We all have gifts and burdens. But a gift is only a gift if used wisely and our burdens are irrelevant; we all have them and it’s all relative. What counts with your burden is how you carry it. Do you let it break you or do you walk tall and take it in stride. No one is perfect not one fucking one of us. The only thing that we all have in common is faith. Some have less and others more. Anyone can do anything in my world and you should join me America.

I wanted to be a writer. My reasons are mine, but I wanted it and I fought for it. Four years of basing my head against a wall without even shaking it. Four years of my family saying you’re a ridiculous fool. One even said “A writer I just saw a box of books on the sidewalk there is no money in books.” My friends said it was hopeless while others just said nothing. No one said I could do it and I gave two fucking shits. I had faith and that is all you need. It was a lonely road and if I said every day I was confident it would work I would be a liar. Night after night I thought of other ways to use my time. Thought of the odds. Calculated the costs. Gauged my ability as a writer. Good story-teller and worst typeset, and grammar idiot on the planet. I didn’t care I had to try. But not try that is what losers say I had to succeed.  Don’t survive thrive.  I have never been stopped by any force and damned if I will stop now. I hired and fired 19 editors. One even held my draft ransom saying “This will make money I want to be partner.” Told her to stick it up her ass with a candle on it and rewrote it.  However I did take it as a massive compliment. Then I found a girl who worked well with me and got what I was going for. Weeks we spent rewriting and editing the run on drunken madhouse which is my writing. Even more time spent writing this blog which I use as a litmus test for my tales. Over 140 posts and 30 never got posted. Hours, days, weeks, months, years, four years of nothing. I realized I didn’t just need an editor I needed an agent. Over 300 NO’s America. 300 emails I sent out looking for help and all came back “Thanks for your interest in our company. We enjoyed your writing but it is not for us. And sorry for this form letter” So I decided to self publish and did it through createspace.com and amazon. This was well received and America was kind enough to give me a 4.6 out of 5 rating for my very rough first edition. I also had more help from my ladies. A group of loyal assistants who liked my blog and wanted to help. Part time amateurs but they helped me write my form letters and showed me the language of marketing a book. One even went further and helped me get my foot in a door with an online publisher. I submitted my draft and they sent me a contract. I then had to hire an attorney for a grand to tell me what the hell the contract said. He helped me make some changes and we conference called with the publishing company. I sat back and watched him work and he got it all. Every fucking thing I wanted from that contract and they agreed. Now he is writing the final draft and when it’s done I will sign.  Hopefully they will still sign and a brick came out of the wall I had been bashing my head into. I now can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just a glimmer, but that is more than I have ever had. I fucking did it America and I’m an Amateur, dyslexic, tech theatre and creative advertising college drop out. I have been thrown out of every school I have ever been to or suspend for five years and I fucking did it.

What one Gentleman can do another can do better America. With Faith in yourself. When your back is against the wall, your cards suck and your almost out of chips you can still win. You just have to play your hand right. Whatever you want out of this life America you can get. Anything is obtainable America you just have to fight for it and fight fucking hard. A little rum never hurt either.

Now stand by for the official announcement of me becoming a published author America. I’m going to shake this fucking world.

 

And to all my friends and family.  SUCK MY WELL ENDOWED COCK i MADE IT YOU DOUBTING CUNTS.  And Dad wish you could have seen it.

 

Long Live the Writers

Oceans

11,000 FOLLOWERS FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

America I want to thank you for giving a retired drug dealer and master of mistakes a voice. I can’t thank you enough for the 2,900 wonderful comments, over 80,000 views, countless reblogs, sexting and urging me to write my book. Its been a long first year, over 100 posts and now 11,000 disciples. I can’t say how grateful I am so I will show you. I always believed actions were louder then words anyway. My book PLAYING YOUR HAND RIGHT: SHOWING AMERICA HOW TO LIVE is about life, love, sex, crime, and when she breaks your nose during sex. I wanted to make America laugh and maybe class the world up a notch.
During this year I have gotten countless questions on how I got so many disciples. To say thanks for following and buying books I’m going to give you my opinion on how to blog. FOR FREE. Although I wouldn’t mind if you bought a copy of my book.   http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385767769&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Layout
My blog is clean and neat. No widgits, gidgits, gadgits, esoteric nonsense or the other techno babble I will never understand. When I was at art school I had a great professor who really got into the psychology of web design and I listened close. First always use a white or subtle yellow as background it is the easiest on the readers eyes. No moving images, white font on black or the other A.D.D. options, they make the text hard to read and tire the readers eyes faster making them unable to read more then twenty min. I want people to come to my blog and read my writing not check the weather it’s distracting to the reader. K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple Stupid is my message on layout. Get rid of all the background and extra crap. We are bloggers not web designers. But we can learn a thing or two from them.

Tags and Categories
This is one of the most unused easy things to do for us bloggers. An old web design trick is make the spiders work for you. We call spiders the search engine programs and they are designed to find key words your searching for. Using the Tags and categories is an easy way to get more traffic. Will this get you 11,000 followers? No but it will get you two more every day and if your a good writer those two will tell two and is spreads. First and for most add “sex” to your tags and categories. Sex is the most searched for term in the internet and word press will even make you laugh by telling you what funny dirty thing people search for. Here is what my site brought in today “tight hand and sex, lighting farts on fire, sxe amerka, sex live in america” Makes me giggle every day what it says. So with sex find 20 other categories your writing falls under and post in them. I have a list I just copy and paste into the tags section no matter what I have written about. Well, lets face it, most of my writing is about sex, drugs, boats and crime anyway. If you cant think of any here is my list to get you started you just copy and paste into the tag section (Antares 44 I, blog award, boats, Busted, cancer, car accident, car break down, Cars, change, children, Cocaine, college, Cops, crime, Dad, Death, Drinking, Drug Dealing, Family, Father, funny, growing up, hash, humor, inspiring, journey, Life, Playing Your Hand Right, quest, robbers, robbery, Sailing, Sex, sex toys, strip clubs, Suicide, Survival, SWAT, Taylor Oceans, Uncategorized, Valentines Day, Weed) These tags are vital when your starting out but now I rarely use categories anymore although I should. So no more posting in only uncategorized America, noob mistake make the spiders work for you. I hate the bastards and they scare the crap out of me but in the digital world spiders are my friends.

Haters
Yes America the world is full of haters the key is to ignore them. Do not fight back they are not worth your time, will never change, and all your doing is dropping to their level. I know that sounds like something you tell a four year old but this is a digital world. If someone said this shit to my face I would have them knee capped while I stand over them laughing, smoking and drinking rum. Since you can’t beat their ass just trash the comments. I receive about one a month. Some person who has spent there entire life is the suburbs and believe they know everything without any real word experience. I get the drug dealers are trash, kid killers, and poster children for abortion once a month. I’m sure I attract more then your average blogger given the controversial topics and my background, but simply put. You will never make everyone happy and like you so give up now, be yourself. Raise your rum and say :To all those who wish us well cheers. To all the rest may you burn in hell.” Just accept that some people will not like your writing and would love to make you quit. Now let me tell you a tale. After the first two months of my blogging I got a hater. He commented on every post and trashed me. He told people not to follow me, and plenty of other garbage. I posted his comments with my rebuttal. I then made the mistake of not checking on my blog for three days. In that three days I had trashed all the work I had done. It took me 2 months to get my first 200 followers and I went back to 50 in three days. America did not like my rebuttal. I deleted it, his comments and basically started from scratch again. That was the first wall I had to put my head through to keep this blog going and it will not be the last. Don’t waste your time with the haters and trolls, just delete, ignore, have a cig, rum and coke, and maybe some good hard fucking. Write more the next day. Sometimes you have to go away to come back.  We are here to write not, argue with America.

Content
Far be it from me to tell you what to write. You want to write about scifi, cars, politics, what ever go for it, but give the people what they want. What they want in those categories I have no idea I write about crime and fucking. I write about me unpolished and you guys clearly eat up the shit where I hold nothing back, and tell it like it really happened. Many times I want to keep some of myself or my failures out of my writing and portray myself as Don Won on Viagra. However when I get the rum in me and tell it how it is you guys love it. I hold nothing back and expect nothing in return. But I wouldn’t mind if you bought my book.

So that is my quick class on blog success. Keep your format simple, use spiders, be yourself and ignore the haters. Don’t like it kiss my ass its free. But I’m here to show you how to live and I figured I might show some of you a trick or two about blogging.  We all need a little help from time to time.

Accidentally on Purpose
The last secret to my success was this post. Accidentally on Purpose was a post I wrote that went viral hitting 965 views in one day. Now you can use all the tricks of the trade. My B.S. and all the other crap they are trying to sell you on the internet on how to blog right. But what it comes down to is turning heads. I have never done anything by following the rules and I’m not about to start now. Grammar, social norms, and doubters can suck it, I live, fuck and write my way. Find out what the people want out of your writing and give it to them. Do they want to feel secure, enlightened, ashamed, passionate or informed? Give the people what they want and they will stay, read, and follow. The categories, tags, format, and other shit only get them to walk in. You writing must make them stay.

Now for your reading pleasure here is accidently on purpose the post that America made me write a book after reading.

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE
So one night, I invited a fuck buddy to come by for a night of kinky adulterism. I thought I was cool with all forms of sex till I met this chick. First she tried to finger my ass while blowing me. Not cool ladies. I felt a finger go from fondling balls to my no-no spot. After I removed my fingernails from the ceiling and climbed down, she explained to me that she had banged every guy she had been with. And I don’t mean bang in the good way. I told her not this horse. Line one found.
During another night of sexual shenanigans, she asked me to cut her with a dinner knife. Well, as well as she could ask through a ball gag while she was tied up in the entryway. I thought that would look great; the cops come in, see me with a dinner knife, woman tied up, death by thousand cuts, and boom: head shot. Thoughts of me being gunned down wearing nothing but a condom and holding a magic wand in one hand and a knife in the other was not exactly my kind of night. Also, the sight of blood makes me lightheaded and completely de-rected. Line two discovered.
During one night of sexcapades, I couldn’t recall which; we were having some drinks before the roll playing began. She would come in, bringing her bag of whatever hotness she would wear that night. We would catch up, have a few drinks, she would go change in the bedroom, I would set up that night’s fun, and it was on. Well, during one of these drinking and catching up chats we had a little bit more than usual to drink. I have a bar in my apartment and I was behind it pouring champagne far too fast. We were talking, joking, having a good time, let’s face it ladies, I’m charming. I go to my fridge, get the third bottle of champagne, pull off the foil, wire, aim and fire.
Being the son of a chef and restaurant owner, I am normally one with the cork, but I try to refrain from firing one off in my apartment. You see, I’m a half-assed Buddhist and have a nice Buddha shrine in my living room. Buddha is cool with everything except being shot in the face with a cork and shattered on the floor. I call myself a half-assed Buddhist because I love Karma, but I treat my body like an amusement park not a temple; hence half-assed.
So, there I am in my kitchen, hotness at the bar, with a bottle in my hand and off goes the cork. Trying to impress her, I figure I will shoot the cork down my apartment and pour her a glass. In my haste, I didn’t aim properly and the cork hits the wall across the room. I have both my hands on the bottle when I realize the cork has ricochet off the wall and is coming straight for my eye at the speed of sound. I wondered what the trip to the hospital would be like. Yes, Doctor, I shot myself, but in my emotional throws, my suicide was foiled because instead of a gun I used a bottle of bubbly. How many times have I laughed at the warning labels on champagne bottles and the funny pictures of cartoons hitting themselves with a cork? Is it possible to have sex with a cork in my eye? I figured she would be a little turned off.
There I was, the “Master” trying to pour a glass of champagne for the “Slave” and the dip shit “Master” is going to blind himself with a cork. Premature corkulation. Why couldn’t my parents have said, “Be careful with the bottle of champagne, you’ll shoot your eye out?” I was great with the BB gun. The cork is getting closer to my face and now she is realizing I’m about to be Kennedy-ed. Forget the magic bullet, look at this fucking cork. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cover her mouth getting ready to laugh, scream, sympathize, however this turns out.
Suddenly, I realize time has stopped. I look at my dog and a drop of drool is floating in the air below him frozen in time. A hummingbird is flying outside the window and its wings are still.
All these thoughts and sights overwhelmed me, yet I couldn’t react to the damn cork about to head shot me. Frozen in time, unable to move, I awaited my inevitable corky fate. Time began again and the cork closed in on its target. I braced for the impact of my masochistic bottle opening, when out of the corner of my eye I see a hand. Moving faster than a fat kid running down an ice cream truck, this hand rises to protect my face. I realize it’s my hand moving and I’m drunker than I thought. I have somehow caught the cork.
Staring at my hand, like a kid who just caught his first fly ball, completely amazed by my subconscious drunken reflexes, I turn to her. She is sitting on the bar stool staring at me as if I have just cured cancer, while climbing Everest to save her from the abominable snowman. Wet. She couldn’t believe it. Had I done this on purpose or accident, she thought to herself. Is my “Master” really this good? Not sure what to do, I came to a sudden conclusion. I handed her the cork with all my misplaced bravado and simply said. “You like my new trick?” And it was on.

I still try to catch the cork when no one is around…
I’m never even close.

As always if you like that take a peak at my book Playing Your Hand Right: Showing America How to Live and read what America has said about it.  http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385767769&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Long Live the Writers

Taylor Oceans

A PIECE OF SLATE

America we have no idea what the road holds for us. I’ve been up, down, rich, poor, together and alone. And what have I learned? It’s about the journey not the destination. You can’t fight change. You not getting any younger and your days are numbered. We want to think our lives will be perfectly linear from birth to death devoid of problems. I’m going to work this job, raise my kids, retire, get old and die. Or at least most of us. But I’m different America. I think every day is precious. You never know when that drive by is going to get you. That drunk driver is going to smash you. The doctor gives you the bad news. Or a piece of slate falls off a roof and kills you. When I was in High school I was walking to the library and a piece of slate falls off the roof plummeting four stories and smashes it’s ten pound razor sharp ass right next to me. I mean inches from my head America. I realized then we have a lot less control then we think over our fate. I saved a piece of that slate tile to remind me to live every day to the full. To live my dreams with no regrets and always say why not instead of why. Don’t be so busy making a living you forget to make a life America. Some day that piece of slate is going to hit you. And all that will be left… Our tales.

Long Live the Writers

Oceans

FIRESIDE CHAT

America I am reviving the old days of the presidential fireside chat. I have been invited to take over a Face Book page for a few hours on Saturday the 8th. I will be on Ebony Simone McMillan’s face book page embarrassing myself and releasing one of the bonus chapters for your reading pleasure. It will only be up for the event after which I will delete it and you will have to go buy my book to get it and the other bonus chapters not on the blog. Ebony is a very nice person who runs Books For Troops an organization that sends your used books to our troops. I may hate the government, but I always support our troops. So before you go out Saturday night have a pregame with me on FB from 6 pm to 8 pm est. Ask me about my tales, read the bonus chapter, and maybe get Ebony’s address to send some of your old books to our troops. I sent two of mine. See you there.  O and be sure to brink your booze and music, leave your inhibitions, religions and politics, and put on your thick skin we are going to have some fun.  Now Suit Up!  Lets start a tradition.

Here is a link to Ebony’s page and Books for Troops
https://www.facebook.com/ebony.s.mcmillan

https://www.facebook.com/groups/booksfortroops/

Doctor report of shenanigans my head hurts and i cant see straight so I went for a check up

I’m in a lot of pain, but still typing America. Can’t walk straight due to concussion, pupil tow different sizes and had my friends girl friend drive me to hospital. Took detour and drove past the bushes on the way. Proud to say higher then I remember drunk. Hence I’m now dumb for a week to three months. Worth it! Go hard or get the fuck off my blog America. Concussion, sprained left shoulder, sprained left wrist, bruised bones in my arm, sprained right knee, and still thought tactics to escape and my buddy got away. Do something your pursuer will not to get away America. I still got it. BALLZ! Buy my book to help pay medical bills because I’m not allowed to work from now to when a specialist checks my dome in a mri and my arm in an xray. Also should not be driving. At least next week till mri what a country. Having a slight disturbance in my medical insurance so buy my book if you got a laugh at my shenanigans. Guarantee my book will add to the laughter. Link below

http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385767769&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Let me add why I say “worth it”. Before you die, you don’t think I’m rich, poor, successful, broke, popular, whatever most America values. All you have are your tales. And I just got one more giggle to myself before I ball tape the grim reaper. Superman over the bushes at the art museum. Live Life America.
If you didnt read why my bod is so powned read this to catch up.

https://playingyourhandright.wordpress.com/2014/01/23/the-boring-life/

Be sure to do your thing America, and buy my book broke author here with a concussion and no medical insurance. I make two bucks off each hard copy so if o say all of my 10,000 disciples buy a book I should only still owe another 20 grand. What a country.

Long Live the Broke Brain Damaged Writers Who Do Their Thing Shenanigans

Oceans

Shenanigans had to. what im drunk and in pain here. Figure if I’m off balance and brain damaged may as well get drunk and enjoy damaging it some more. TO RUM!!!!!!! AND THIS VIDEO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sHENANIGANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tOTALLY WORTH IT.

Addendum:  Some may sit around worrying about if this head ache is blood pooling in my brain providing me with a delightful delirium before killing me as I wait for an MRI.  No one knows right now so imaging the best America.  Take it from someone who had cancer, the bends, been shot at, almost wood chipped and watched his father die of AIDS.  The worrying is what kills you it robs you of the time you have left.  I got my tunes up a rum and coke in my hand dancing my clumsy concussed ass around my house.  Yes I can still do foot work a good sign.  You will never see death coming, so close your eyes, raise your glasses, face the wind and enjoy the ride America.  You only get one.

Peace love and chicken grease from the shitty city RICHMOND VIRGINIA

TAYLOR OCEANS

Just passed 9,000 disciples on Word Press and Face Book

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

Just passed 9,000 disciples writing it my way and just wanted to say thanks america. When I started this blog ten months ago I was very nervous about my writing and not to optimistic about ever finishing my book. 9048 disciples later and my book published 60 days ago I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve got 50 of my books next to me right now and they are about to be mailed out to all the local book stores, radio stations, and T.V Stations in my fair city to spread the word. Think happy thoughts for me America and keep buying books. Who knows, some day may see my book in barns and noble and remember you found me blogging and living my way. Thanks for reading, buying books and giving hope to a writer trying to live life his way.
As always link to my book on amazon below. For 9,000 disciples I have lowered the kindle copy to three bucks and will keep it down for a few days so if you haven’t bought my book yet give it a three dollar try. Link below.

http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-Showing/dp/1484829794/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385767769&sr=8-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Long Live the Writers
And don’t forget to live life your way

Taylor Oceans

To My Girl

One of my followers is very sick America. She has been following me for a very long time and picked me up when I thought of quitting. Watching her fight the same curse my father died from has inspired me. You see America my father just gave up. He quit his meds, turned grey, went from 256 to 90, slipped into a coma and died. He lost faith in himself and died of shame. But not my girl. She is a climber in a literal sense and her hanging from a cliff should be hanging in every men’s room if you catch my drift. We need to be reminded that people are always backing us and that its only over when we quit. However we shouldn’t be afraid because we only lose once in this life, but after we are gone our writing stays. Long after statues fall, Empires crumble and libraries are burned we will still know Achilles, Homer, a boy named Zach Sobiech and maybe even my girl if she wants me to post her name. So America, shit world at this point 8,500 disciples, if any of you are in with an almighty what ever you may call him or her I guess, put in a good word for my girl. I’ll spare her telling you her name however the dude upstairs knows. Lets give her a boost to the next hand hold. Keep climbing girl.

Long Live the Writers
Taylor Oceans

How am I going to be an optimist about this?

Should life be easy or hard? When my Dad died or more acutely refused his meds and let AIDS kill him slowly I was left to my own devices. How am I going to be an optimist about this? My Mother had already left me at 18 and moved to Canada. We don’t talk anymore. How am I going to be an optimist about this? 22 in a new city I lost my Dad and my farm on the same night. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I became a drug dealer to get myself killed because I was alone. Going out like Scarface sounded better then death in bed like Dad. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I developed a coke habit, and became rich as shit and a great success at dealing, til my partner was killed in a drive by. I looked in the mirror and saw my strung out coked up ass and was ashamed by the years, dollars, and talent wasted. How am I going to be an optimist about this? I quit coke, and dealing. I wrote a book Playing Your Hand Right avalible at https://www.createspace.com/4262251 . First week of sales. How am I going to be an optimist about this? The same way I always do. Remember I’m Taylor Oceans and I can do anything I put my mind to. That’s how I’m going to be an optimist about this. I will sell my book even if I have to sell everything I own but my lap top and steal wifi. And that is the message of my book and my life.  We can do anything and you only fail when you quit. And I don’t quit. That’s how I can be an optimist about this.  Next week I will sell more.
Should life be easy or hard… Hard. Its the only way you find out what the fuck your made of. And I’ve become a Gentleman America. I wouldn’t trade my hard life for anything. It gave me Moxie.  That’s how I’m going to be an optimist about this. I leave you with one of my favorite poems modified for the Gentleman, by a Gentleman.

Oceans~

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Gentleman, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

And if you feel like being part of a changing America buy my book Playing Your Hand Right:Showing America how to live it just might make an optimist out of you.

https://www.createspace.com/4262251

Available in digital copies on kindle as well link below

http://www.amazon.com/Playing-Your-Hand-Right-ebook/dp/B00FTIV4S0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1381697213&sr=1-1&keywords=playing+your+hand+right

Do your thing

Its Saturday night. Where ever you are who ever you are shine like a Gentleman and Lady. Now get out there and fuck something tonight America. I’m just doing my thing.  Showing America how to Live. Tell your friends about my blog tonight about to hit 7,000 disciples. Worked all week on the book. Coming to you in weeks.

Safe And Sound

America the book is done and when amazon.com reviews it it will be available to you. Now Excuse me I have worked four years on this odyssey and Odysseus is home and getting drunk. I earned it. I survived to tell the tale. And write it for you.

 

Gentleman Drink Responsibly

 

Oceans