Who Needs a Self-Help Book?
Please tell me why my life is so wrong, and yours is so right. I’m always up for a good laugh, and an opportunity to disregard sheer assumptions about why my existence needs your assistance. This is the attitude I obtain when I see a self-help book, be it in electronic or physical form.
I see self-help books everywhere. You see the title of Doctor leading some of the authors of these books, and it makes sense for a moment. “Of course someone with an over-priced education and inflated sense of ego can help me!” you think, and like the sucker you are, you dive right in, hoping this bastard of a genius can keep you from drowning.
Those who aren’t self-declared medical professionals are also getting in on the self-help book train. That’s just…dandy, I suppose. Fine, for a poor self-absorbed disaster like me.
I don’t have a PhD, but I do have an art degree of the master’s variety, so that gives me some credentials on the subject of “living wrong”. When you’re a satiated artist, you see things through kaleidoscope eyes. I won’t starve as long as my food benefits aren’t cut, and the cheap smokes I buy suppress my need to gorge.
If you need help, don’t waste your money. Just read the following tips, and your lackluster life will be full of aqua glitter and hole-less panties and/or boxer briefs in no time!
Step 1: Identify what ails you.
Step 2: Stop doing what ails you.
Step 3: Keep doing what doesn’t ail you until you die, except keeping a job that pays, because shit costs money. Even your turds are worth something to someone.
Yes, it’s really that easy, if you apply whipped cream cheese all over your torso first. There’s no reason for the cream cheese, except that I think smelling like a popular bagel spread will make you feel delicious.
Now you can live the carefree and blissful life that unicorns wearing rhinestone cufflinks would die for. You’re welcome, and please don’t forget the whipped cream cheese!