Happiness – Page 2 – Wilder, Wealthy, and Wise

The Wilder Guide to Self-Reinvention

“Ultimately, anybody could crash on an island like this, and the idea of being surrounded by strangers and getting to reinvent yourself in some way is sort of readily identifiable.” – Lost

The NFL® has an obscure rule that players cannot own ducks or geese. Those are called “a personal fowl.” (all memes as-found)

Sometimes I’ve felt like I’m stuck in a sequel nobody asked for.

Same plot, same villains, same scriptwriters, same predictable ending where the hero, me, ends up in the same place where the movie started. All of it happened, and all of it changed nothing.

Reinvention sounds like one of those self-help buzzwords peddled by people with suspiciously not-grey hair, perfect teeth, and look like they smell vaguely of Lemon-Scented® Pledge™.

Me? I’ve lost most of my hair, have okay but not perfect teeth, and more often smell of cigar than citrus. I’m not selling you anything. Except songs. And you can listen to all of those for free. But if reinvention is done well, it changes everything, which should be no surprise because it’s in the name.

I’ve reinvented myself a time or two. Switched careers, changed habits, even moved across state lines once. It’s never as glamorous as the brochures promise. I have never yet experienced a slow-mo training montage with Eye of the Tiger blasting in the background. More often it’s like grinding through a B-movie script where the director keeps yelling “Cut!” because I flubbed the line again.

Plot twist: it was really Freddy Kruger™ that killed Martin Luther King, Jr. After all, he had a dream . . .

In the changes I’ve made, however, I have learned more than a few things. First, real reinvention demands a brutal assessment of what’s True, Beautiful, and Good and how that differs from what I see in the mirror. People, me included, want to believe pretty little lies whenever they can. Real assessment is required.

If it isn’t hitting at least three out of three of the True, Beautiful, and Good criteria, why bother? I try to take stock without mercy.

Is it True?

Does it square with reality, or am I kidding myself?

Is it Beautiful?

Does it create something worthwhile, or is it just pumping out more plastic widgets for the landfill?

Is it Good?

Does serve a higher purpose, or is it just vanity?

If the answer’s a resounding “meh,” to any of these three, it’s not worth the effort. If I lie to myself here, the whole reinvention turns into a farce.

Would you like three alternative punchlines?

Hollywood peddles a different script, of course. Change is always Good™, wrapped in a rom-com bow. Picture the uptight stuffed-shirt. Khakis pressed, 401(k) maxed moping through life until a random crazy hot chick crashes in.

She’s got purple hair, a tattoo of a dreamcatcher, and a backpack full of “experiences.” She drags him to a rave in the desert, teaches him to juggle fire and smoke weed, and poof, he’s ditching the corner office for a food truck.

Roll credits, cue the indie soundtrack. This is celebrated as a modern goal.

Reality check: I’ve crossed paths with more than a few random crazy hot chicks.

Positive contributions? Slim to none. All the experiences rhyme, though: a whirlwind of chaos, pain, and stories that start with “So there I was…” and end with lawyers or bail money.

Random crazy hot chicks didn’t reinvent me, they just rearrange the furniture in my life until nothing fits.

Real change doesn’t need a manic (or maniac) minx catalyst.

She keeps sending mixed messages.

It just needed me to stare in the mirror and decide the current plot sucks.

Change itself?

That’s the bonus, the change is immediate.

Change happens now, effects come with time. Flip the switch.

Boom, reinvented. The results take time. The bigger the change, the more patience required for the results.

That’s why urgency is my ally. Time multiplies effort like compound interest, and the old saying goes: When’s the best time to plant a tree? The best time to start is 20 years ago. The next best time is now.

Silly me, I would have thought the next best time would have been 19 years ago, but maybe I missed that day in Arbor Academy.

The message, though, is clear. Act now, act deliberately. Not in a panic but with a purpose. Delay, and I’m just leaving Future Me a bigger debt.

Which brings us back to the noun. The what. I had a boss that would always slow me down with this one simple question: “What do we want the outcome to be? Start with the end in mind.” Again, the criteria for me is simple. Is it True, is it Beautiful, is it Good?

Also, how I frame the change dictates the ending and the success or failure. Any change that constantly demoralizes me is doomed. If I have an end state in mind, and I’m not there, I’m failing. Right?

No. Remember the montage. Starting the montage is the success. You’ve gotta have a montage.

Seriously, though, my mind rebels against endless punishment. Why should I keep showing up if every step feels like defeat? For me, I often measure effort rather than outcomes. Build a habit of study, and not measure myself against the end. Even a little progress (if the change is big enough) is what I’m looking for. Patton put it perfectly: “A good plan executed now is better than a perfect one executed later.”

My dudes, attitude is everything.

There are exceptions: any positive reinvention that energizes me? That’s the winner. It creates a feedback loop: my effort sparks momentum, my momentum delivers wins, my wins fuel more energy. These can even be bits of the montage, if you will.

Quick wins? I grab them whenever I can. I’m wired for routine. Once a habit locks in, it’s tougher for me to break than to keep. Like autopilot, I set the course, and it flies itself. Your mileage may vary, but for me, momentum is king. Get the ball rolling, and inertia works for me, not against.

I’ve learned to not wait for a muse. She’s probably off with that random crazy chick anyway. Just consistent action.

At its core, reinvention isn’t about morphing into someone else. It’s honing the best of who I am, aligned with Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. Brutal honesty spots the flaws, urgency launches the fix, energy sustains the burn, and time polishes the gem. When it clicks? It’s worth every sweat drop, every dawn patrol, every skipped shortcut.

Whenever I am at a crossroads I always stare into a bowl of rice, hoping to find a grain of truth.

I’m beginning to think the only bad ending is the one where I don’t change. Oh, and all of the Disney® movies since 2017 or so. They all suck.

No To Resolutions, Yes To Future Me

“You’re right. We could sit around here all day, talking, passing resolutions, making clever speeches. It’s not going to shift one Roman soldier.” – Life of Brian

When I farmed sprouts I was assertive. I was an alfalfa male.

I have mentioned before that the whole New Year holiday has never resonated with me.

New Year’s Eve means amateur drunks on the roads, bad decisions, and an excess of early September births. One of the things that I thought about when I was a kid (not born in September!) was the idea of a resolution. I’ve always thought of a resolution as a promise not outwards, but inwards: a promise from today me to future me.

I tried it a few times when I was young. As I got older, I decided that resolutions didn’t make sense. I have now decided that Future Me is probably in a better place to make decisions than Current Me. I mean, Past Me in 2020 should have bought a lot of gold, as Current Me can now attest. So, promising Future Me something that Future Me might not even want isn’t the best idea.

I mean, twelve-year-old me wanted to join the Columbia® Record Club™. Twelve CDs for one cent! Now I realize that the Columbia™ Record Club© is a circle of hell somewhere between having to listen to Whoopi Goldberg for 20 minutes a day and having to smell Whoopi Goldberg for 20 minutes a day.

I lost my ABBA CD. Where did the disco?

I’ve since thought about changing Current Me into a better Future Me. I decided to do that instead.

So, I wrote down on a piece of paper, “Making 2026 The Best Year Ever”.

Nice header. Could I do it? Jury is still out, and I never judge a story until I see the end. I’m giving it a current “okay”.

I wrote down this stuff the second week in January, so I’m two weeks in. I was rather stunned on how making some small changes could translate into immediate and large results, making a whole year’s goal in a week. Guess I was aiming too low. Lots of times, my guess is that the biggest thing standing between me and a goal is me just doing it.

I’m not going to share entirely the things I’m doing, but one of the actions that I could take was:

Spend an hour a day doing something for Future Me.

This was absurdly successful on day one. It’s the art of anti-procrastination. Find something that would make life easier for Future Me. Spend an hour doing it, every day.

That’s it.

They used to call it Stalin.

I’m actually doing that right now. Normally I write these the night before I post them. Tonight, I’m writing this a day earlier than I normally write a post. Each minute I spend on the post is a minute I won’t have to spend tomorrow. The other bonus is it will give me time to review it and edit it and think about it.

This works well. Absurdly well.

Most of the other things have been based around organization. My den now looks much better, and when I walk into the room, it makes me happy to be there, rather than staring at a pile of papers I know I have to deal with on a messy desk.

Now, that stack is half as high and I know that with four or five more hours, my den will be my favorite place in the house.

Moore’s Law says that transistors double every two years on a chip. They do that by making them smaller, so less is Moore’s.

The part about devoting an hour to it is important. Most of the time my procrastination works on the idea of, “well, it will take me six hours to do that, so I’ll wait until I have six hours.”

That’s not good. It’s a thought that allows me to rationalize putting something off until tomorrow. But if I have to do it because I owe Future Me, it gets easier. I just go, start, and put in an hour, and be free to stop after that hour is done.

Wow. The results have been big. I think one of the big hurdles to overcoming procrastination is just doing the very smallest part of what I’m planning on doing. Tonight, it was: ”Okay, I’ll open Word®.” Opening Word© is easy. One second later, I’m staring at a blank page. I remember a video I wanted to reference for this post, and 30 seconds later that video is up in the adjacent window.

Boom. Ready to go.

Absurdly easy, yet now I’m two thirds of the way through the first draft of the post. That’s work that Future Me doesn’t need to do. It’s done. I’m actually not at all unhappy now, but tomorrow me will be absurdly happy that he was given this little gift of time. (I can verify this)

Is the past tense of William Shakespeare Wouldiwas Shookspeared?

That’s just one example. But to build the Future Me I wanted to build, I decided to see if there was a path. If there was a path, I’d break it down to the smallest possible step. Once I had that step, it actually solves another hurdle: the brain hates failure.

Or, at least mine does.

It would rather have a mediocre non-win than a chance to lose. So, I break the task up into smaller tasks that are impossible to fail at. Open Word®. Who can’t open Word™? This actually short-circuits the willpower part of life. If it’s easy to do, I’ll do it.

An example: if I think of shaving my face (I haven’t done that in years, but hang with me) I can think of it in two ways. First, I can think, “I have to shave my face. Every day. For the rest of my life.”

That’s soul-sucking. Awful. And you know you can never win because the hair keeps growing back. I know people who think like that. Ugh.

Or, I can say, “Shaving, two minutes in the shower, done.”

I try not to make things bigger than they are.

I also need to build out a mechanism to change that doesn’t require willpower, about which I believe Mr. Twain said, “lasts about two weeks, and is soluble in alcohol.”

What can I replace willpower with?

Willpower is easy. I’ve quit tobacco dozens of times.

Aversion. Yeah, it’s a negative emotion. So what? I’m actively avoiding something, and I need to visualize that person I don’t want to be, and then act in the opposite way that produces that person. It’s actually much easier than willpower, and the farther away from that person that I don’t want to be that I drift, the better.

I don’t have huge changes to make (though with a few, I’m expecting huge results) and I plan to revisit this every week, and see what the next steps need to be, or, if Future Me has gotten smarter and decided that there’s an even better way to go.

Okay, I cheated. I decided to make one New Year’s resolution for 2026. I decided to resolve to gain weight and exercise less. Perhaps I’ll fail at that one, too.

Penultimate Day 2025

“He has to operate wholly by touch.” – Top Secret

Think about the penultimate letter of the alphabet. Because I wanted you to.

Penultimate Day. This is a particular and peculiar institution of the Wilder family. It started over a decade ago, my guess is 2011 or 2012. The Mrs. was having problems with her Blackberry® phone (the one with the cool trackball and the tiny keyboard and complete inability to innovate after Apple® showed up) and wanted a new cell phone. I was on vacation, and the closest place that sold phones with our carrier (which no longer exists) was 90 miles away.

We popped the kids in the car, and headed south to buy a phone. We went to Best Buy®. We ended up not buying the phone (the deal was awful) and decided to eat at Olive Garden™. As I drove home, I decided to have fun with the kids, and told them that this was a Wilder family holiday. They bought it, and we had a lot of phone fun. The day before New Year’s Eve would therefore be forever known to us as Penultimate Day.

The next year, we remembered, and did the exact same thing.

What are the rules of Penultimate Day?

Wait for December 30,
Drive 90 miles south,
Look at cell phones,
Under no circumstances whatsoever actually buy a cell phone, and,
Have some Italian food at a casual-dining chain.

While it’s not a tough holiday, we’ve missed one year entirely (2023) and only Pugsley and I celebrated on 2022. Oh, yeah, and then there was COVID, where being afraid of everything was encouraged.

So, we try to observe it when we can. This year we had two exceptions:

Wait for December 30 (check),
Drive 90 miles south (a new restaurant opened nearby),
Look at cell phones (check),
Under no circumstances whatsoever, buy a cell phone (check), and,
Have some Italian food that incorporates pasta at a casual-dining chain (mostly check: The Mrs. was tired and took a nap, so we brought her a to-go entrée back).

So, while we did keep it, we didn’t manage to keep it wholly, so I guess still doesn’t count as a wholly holiday. I’m okay with that, because life is change. I’m fortunate that The Boy and Pugsley could both make it and spend time with the family. I’m also very, very thankful for that. I realized sometime around the time a kid gets 10 or 11, in the way the world works now, that I had spent half of the days I’d ever get to spend with that kid, so I did my best to be memorable.

But the holiday has changed for us. Back then the kids were little. Now, not so much.

Time goes by very quickly. Don’t wish even a minute or an hour away. And don’t forget to enjoy the things and people that you have in your life. Heaven is being grateful for what you have, Hell is being envious for what you don’t.

You can choose Heaven, and you can also still work to make it better. I have more full-family Penultimate Days behind me than in front of me, and that’s okay. I’ve had the ones that we’ve had, and hopefully we’ve made a memory or two and in fifty or so years, one of my children will look back on December 30 and smile at the thought of Penultimate Day. But that’s their choice, and that’s for them in the world that they make.

One of my resolutions was to drink more water. I’ve only gotten to “drink more” at this point.

For me? I’m glad we have this silly holiday. I’ve always thought that the New Year holidays (Eve and Day) were contrived. They were (and are, mainly) meaningless to me. But Penultimate Day? I also use that as a time to think about the passage of time and one of its most important elements, the time I spend with family and the memories that we’ve made.

That being said, then is my wish that all of us have a wonderful and prosperous 2026, but don’t feel the need to wish it away too quickly.

And when midnight hits you, I hope you have a Happy New Year!

(this is a better version of what I said last year)

The Post of Christmas Past

“The most enduring traditions of the season are best enjoyed in the warm embrace of kith and kin. Thith tree the a thymbol of the thpirit of the Grithwold family Crithmath.” – National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

The Mrs. made a Christmas decoration out of $100 bills. She called it her Aretha Franklins.

Notes: I’ll have a new song tomorrow and two for this weekend. I am, however, debating on putting together a post for Friday. We’ll see – it’s a coin toss right now and probably depends on how sleepy I am after Christmas dinner.

Ahhh, Christmas. One of the things that has become traditional in the time since the VCR ruled supreme is, of course, the Christmas movie. Many of them are quite bad, but a few stand out in my mind and they’re below. This doesn’t include Christmas TV specials, of which A Charlie Brown Christmas is clearly the very best.

It’s a Wonderful Life is on the top of many lists and it’s the oldest on this list with the next-oldest showing up forty years later. It’s got a solid cast, and a message that, perhaps, unbridled capitalism isn’t the way so it probably makes Libertarians sad. Yet, the reason it’s so popular is, like Night of the Living Dead, the copyright holders failed to renew that copyright in 1975 so television stations could flog it like a rented horse and pay nothing. If you have ever been around people in the broadcasting business, “free” is their heroin, so they played it over and over because, hey, free Christmas heroin.

Home Alone is a funny movie, but not horribly Christmas-y. Change the setting to Thanksgiving or summer vacation or the execution of a convicted killer based on a wacky misunderstanding and nothing really changes. But a lot of people really like this one, so it’s in. And it is hilarious, especially the Stooge-esque scene of mayhem at the end. Heartwarming? I little. It tries but mainly fails, because my heart is mainly immune from warming.

Die Hard? Yes, it’s a Christmas movie. The real villain in the movie was Joseph Takagi. Why? He scheduled an office party on Christmas Eve. Who does that, the Japanese Grinch®? The movie is really well made from start to finish, and holds up to repeated viewings. And, after all, as my kids say, “It’s not really Christmas until Hans Gruber falls off Nakatomi tower.”

Elf. So, let me get this straight, Santa kidnapped a baby and we give him a pass? I’m not really that fond of Santa movies. Why? I don’t know. Let’s just say I figured out that scam pretty quickly and hold a grudge. But Will Ferrell is generally funny, and plays childlike enthusiasm very well, especially bouncing it off of Jimmy Caan.

A Christmas Story. Top tier, and probably tied for my very top spot as a Christmas movie. It is very uniquely a story about Christmas in America before globalism and while commercialism was still amateurish (Drink more Ovaltine®?). It did also capture that great sense of joy, wonder, and anticipation that comes from being a kid awaiting his first shootin’ iron. It also was wonderful at showing a family that was cohesive despite of (and maybe because of) the daily ups and downs and struggles. When I was younger, I saw it through Ralphie’s eyes, and then through the eyes of The Old Man. Perfect on all levels.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Did I ever mention that the clerks at the grocery store would let me buy National Lampoon® when I was 8? I think they would have sold me booze and smokes, too. Regardless, this is clearly the best of the movies that National Lampoon™ ever put its brand on. I’d also say it’s the most consistently funny movie on this list. Randy Quaid still makes money autographing photos with “Shitter’s Full.” Why can’t I have that career?

Scrooged. This is a favorite of The Mrs. Peak Bill Murray hamming it up with a message that, perhaps, it’s not all about him, but rather his family, which (as far as I can tell) nearly all in this film playing various roles. But maybe stapling the antlers to the mice would have been an interesting scene to make the movie more engaging? I think the late, great Michael O’Donoghue was the spark on the script, but whoever was responsible, they did a very good job bringing this story into the 1980s. Making fun of commercialism while bringing $100,000,000 back to the bank was pretty good work.

Fatman. It’s Mel Gibson as Santa taking a contract with the military-industrial complex to produce weapons because business is down while being pursued by a hitman. Santa Claus becomes John McClane? Barely a Christmas movie.

The Long Kiss Goodnight has Geena Davis at her hottest playing an amnesiac assassin in a story written by the guy who wrote Predator and directed by the guy who directed the only move I’ve been in (The Adventures of Ford Fairlane). Christmasy? No, not really even though it’s set at Christmas. And, this is crucial to the plot, but it could be almost any holiday. Why on the list? It’s an excuse to post a picture of Geena Davis.

I very much expected this list to be longer, and, in fact, had to throw on a few that I normally wouldn’t (Fatman, for instance) to pad it out. I’m imagining there weren’t a lot of surprises on the list. Did I miss any of your favorites?

2025 In Review: The Wilder Way

“You’re up for review.” – Fight Club

I wrote a review of why graphs should use wider lines. It’s called, “The Plot Thickens”.

As an annual feature of Wilder, Wealthy and Wise, we poll our writers and editors and ask them to nominate the top stories of the year. Since they are just me, it’s a far less complex process than you might imagine. Here are the top stories of 2025:

January 2025

Donald Trump is inaugurated as the 47th U.S. President. Trump immediately issues executive orders on immigration, trade, and withdrawing from international agreements like the Paris Accord. Alexandria Occasional-Cortex protests, “I didn’t even know the French could pronounce ‘Honda®’, I mean, wouldn’t it sound like ‘Onda? So we should let them have an Accord®. It’s a sensible car.”
Wildfires ravage Greater Los Angeles, destroying over 13,000 structures, prompting evacuations and a state of emergency. Governor Gavin “Reptile Smile” Newsom declares homeowners may rebuild that the land will be confiscated and given to people that buy him nice things.
Bulgaria and Romania join the Schengen Area, lifting land border controls in Europe. Bulgaria is still awaiting its first visitor and has the crepe paper decorations and everything along with party poppers and a 10% discount coupon to Bob’s Bulgarian Borscht, Baguette and Baklava Buffet®.
Liechtenstein legalizes same-sex marriage, becoming the 37th country to do so, and demands to be known as Gay Liechtenstein.

February 2025

Trump imposes 25% tariffs on imports from Canada and Mexico, and 10% on China, sparking retaliatory measures and trade tensions. Trump then immediately lowers them, noting, “I shot the tariff, but I did not shoot the subsidy.”
China retaliates with export controls and tariffs on U.S. imports amid escalating trade war, threatening to send more TEMU® products and advertisements if the U.S. does not relent.
Canada wins the 2025 4 Nations Face-Off hockey tournament against the U.S. Nic Cage and John Travolta are unavailable for comment.
The Taliban visit Japan for first diplomatic engagement since 2021 as the Japanese noted they were no longer talibanned.

March 2025

Trump pauses U.S. military aid to Ukraine after tensions with Zelensky when Zelensky wouldn’t eat his peas at dinner.
Romanian protests erupt against election annulment, supporting the far-right one candidate who doesn’t Romanians replaced by Syrians.
The Nagoya High Court in Japan rules non-recognition of same-sex marriage unconstitutional, primarily because of military pressure from Gay Liechtenstein.
Trump increases tariffs on Chinese imports to 20%. Or 60%. Or 200%. Can’t keep track.
India launches missiles into Pakistan after a terrorist attack, escalating border tensions over regional fights against body hygiene, deodorant requirements, and who had first scamming rights over Oregon.

April 2025

Trump imposes sweeping tariffs on imports from multiple countries, escalating global trade wars. Or lowers them. Or maybe doesn’t change anything at all. I can’t remember.
Pope Francis dies at 88 after mentioning he had inside information about Clinton crimes.
China increases tariffs on U.S. exports to 84% in retaliation. Or lowers them.
South Korean President Win Won Soon impeached and removed and sent to Alabama to coach football.

May 2025

Robert Prevost elected as Pope Leo XIV in the papal conclave, narrowly edging out Grammy®-nominated artist Taylor Swift.
Germany’s AfD designated as extremist because it objects complete replacement of Germans by 2032, instead demanding it be put back to at least 2040.
Japan allows bears in urban areas to be shot by hunters, as long as the bears are not gay, though the hunters can be gay and are encouraged to be vegan.

June 2025

Protests erupt in Los Angeles over ICE deportations, leading to clashes and National Guard deployment and threats of military intervention from the Grand Gay Dutchy of Gay Liechtenstein.
The U.S. intervenes in the Israel-Iran conflict by bombing Iranian nuclear facilities, which is less an intervention and more of a bombing.
No Kings protests occur across U.S., Canada, Europe, Japan, and Mexico against Stephen King, Larry King, King’s Hawaiian Rolls® and King Kong™.
An Air India© flight crashes in Ahmedabad, killing 242, proving that Indians can manage to kill more Indians than Pakistan can. Prime Minister Modi proclaims: “India Global Superpower 2030!”

July 2025

Republicans pass sweeping tax changes through reconciliation in U.S. Congress. No one is sure what is in them but the lobbyists say that it’ll be great.
The International Court of Justice® (Superman presiding) rules countries can sue over historical greenhouse gas emissions. White Americans immediately sue the descendants of black slaves for greenhouse reparations, noting that if they really were the ones who built America, it’s time for them to pay up.

August 2025

OpenAI® releases GPT-5™. Sam Altman celebrates by sacrificing a small child, but the evil god he worships rejects it because, “It’s not really a sacrifice because he does it every Tuesday.”
The Russia-U.S. summit at Joint Base Elmendorf in Anchorage focused on the Ukraine conflict, got nothing done, but did have a nice burger and a promise to meet up again “in a week or two, you know, I’ve got a lot of stuff going on”.
Air Canada© flight attendants strike to ban requiring stewardesses to serve in-flight beverage service to Indians hanging on the wings.
Anti-immigration rallies in Australia lead to clashes against the evil white people who are totally not being replaced by the hundreds of thousands of refugees brought in to replace them.

September 2025

The French government collapses after no-confidence vote. Again.
The Grand Gay Dutchy of Gay Liechtenstein demands the return of their gay crown jewels from France. France protests, noting, “We’re not exactly sure where Liechtenstein is.”

October 2025

In the U.K., Sarah Mullally becomes the first female Archbishop of Canterbury and immediately offers apology for all Christians resistance to moslem grooming gangs, noting, “It’s really white privilege to expect to not be sexually violated by short swarthy men with no upper body strength.”
Grand Duke Henri of Luxembourg abdicates as the Gay Grand Gay Dutchy of Gay Liechtenstein attacks and begins to consolidate a European Homohegemony.

Why did Bing® A.I.® put Manson in the picture?

November 2025

Canada’s measles-free status revoked. Which is weird, because they had been measles-free since 1998. Wonder how that could have happened? No reason at all, I guess. Odd coincidence that some of the highest measles rates in the world are in India.
The Saskatchewan Roughriders win the Grey Cup. Whoever and wherever they are, and whatever that it.

December 2025

Trump’s economic approval hits a new low at 36%, but that only fills him with strength, and he decided to annex Antarctica and name it New Greenland.
Sanae Takaichi becomes Japan’s first female prime minister, and immediately begins plotting to re-take Manchuria after tidying up a bit and doing some dishes.
The Gay Grand Gay Dutchy of Gay Liechtenstein cedes the Gay Presidency of Europe to The Trans Republic of Trans Transylvania.
Thieves steal priceless jewelry from the Louvre in France, but after they’re caught and determined to be moslem, are then given a key so they can loot whenever they want.

What a year!

What did I miss?

Tranquility Was Never The Goal

“Our Great War is a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives.” – Fight Club

The ultimate participation award.

As humans, we’re wired wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it.

We chase peace like it’s the ultimate prize at the carnival of life. We say that we want a world without war, without struggle, where everyone has a comfy couch, unlimited Wi-Fi, more liver capacity, and steak that cooks and delivers itself.

Sounds like Heaven, right?

Wrong. When I was a wee Wilder, Grandma McWilder would talk about how I should do nice things in life rather than bathing the cat in a paste made from DDT® and Lysol™ so I could go to Heaven. Obviously, I asked, “What is Heaven like?”

Grandma told me it was nice and peaceful and that nothing bad ever happened up there. I believe I said something like, “That sounds boring.” Grandma did not look pleased, but I don’t know if it was about my statement or the cat.

Let’s just say I was a technicolor handful as a kid. Oh, the stories I could tell.

But I wasn’t wrong.

But wait, there’s more!

Tranquility isn’t the goal. Tranquility is the trap.

Peace isn’t just boring; it is deadly to the human spirit. We need the fight, the blood, the steel. Without it, we rot from the inside out. And that’s not me, John Wilder making crap up again. We have actual studies where the government tortured mice to verify that I’m right.

Take John Calhoun’s Mouse Utopia experiments, please. I’ve written about them a couple times before, you can use the search thingy in the upper right hand of the screen to find them. I would have done that for you but you’re not my supervisor and I could type this sentence way faster. Short summary:

In the 1960s, Calhoun built paradise for mice: unlimited food, water, space, unlimited beef jerky, no predators, SNAP benefits.

What happened? At first, boom, the population soared. But then, the weirdness set in. The mice stopped breeding normally. Males became either passive or hyper-aggressive or “beautiful ones,” preening themselves instead of fighting or mating.

Females abandoned pups. Society collapsed into violence, isolation, and extinction. All of this happened in a “utopia”.

No threats, no struggles: just free cheese forever. And they died out. Stop me if you’ve seen this recently in other mammals.

I’m not going sugarcoat my jokes about diabetes.

Humans aren’t mice, but we’re close enough if you ask my parole officer. Look at the downward spiral of the United States after the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. The Cold War ended. We “won.” Yay! No more Soviet boogeyman lurking with nukes and unibrows.

Instead? Peace! Prosperity!

What did we do? Got fat, lazy, bored and divided: music went from “I’m gonna kick your ass” in the 1980s to “Oh, man, I need lithium because I’m sad”. The ‘90s brought endless economic booms, but also the seeds of today’s mess: identity politics, endless entertainment, and a generation starting to get hooked on screens instead of life.

Without a real enemy, we turned inward, fighting over pronouns and safe spaces. Tranquility bred complacency, and complacency bred decay.

Same story with the Moon landing. July 20, 1969: Armstrong steps on the lunar surface. Humanity’s greatest leap. We beat gravity, the Soviets, and the odds. Then? Crickets as the ratings dropped.

We went back a few times, planted flags, played golf (shoutout to Alan Shepard), and then just . . .stopped.

And then she refused to talk to them for six hours.

NASA shifted to the gay space trucks shuttles and looking for non-binary muslims and lesbians to shoot into orbit. No more bold frontiers. Why? We won. The Sea of Tranquility turned space exploration into a budget line item.

Need another example: a Syrian teen in London.

Picture this: an eighteen-year-old from war-torn Syria, resettled in a taxpayer-funded flat in London. Free food. Free education. Free X-Box®.

Utopia, right?

Wrong. He drops the controller and goes to Syria andjoins ISIS or stays in London and joins a gang and becomes a rapefugee with a machete.

Why?

Blood calls to blood. Iron to Iron. That flat was Mouse Utopia 2.0: safe, soft, soulless and, let’s face it, that kid was inbred and not very bright to start with. He craved the jihad, the struggle, the validation of existence through fire and fight. Comfort didn’t kill his spirit, comfort starved it. In part, this is why allowing refugees from incompatible countries is immoral.

I played hide and seek and ended up in the hospital. ICU!

Why do we have wars?

We want wars. If they weren’t popular, we’d have stopped having them a very long time ago.

Why do we want them? Not because we’re monsters, but because we’re human. Struggle validates us. High stakes forge character. Leaders like Alexander or Churchill didn’t thrive in peace; they rose in the crises they created.

Without enemies, we manufacture them, internal or imaginary. Look at modern “wars”: culture wars, gender wars, class wars, cola wars. We can’t help it. Tranquility isn’t our default; it’s a rare condition that, when it lasts long enough we pop our collective corks.

Think about it: our history has wired us for survival, not spa days. Hunter-gatherers fought for food, territory, mates and because it was Tuesday. Civilizations brought people together and made a professional league and channeled that into empires, exploration, and innovations. Remove the fight?

We devolve.

Mouse Utopia showed it: no threats equates to no purpose. Humans need the arena, the sweat, the sand, and the blood. We were built for the Colosseum, not the couch.

But here’s the rub: the struggle creates a spot for growth, it’s literally the engine of history. Without high stakes, we fail to thrive.

We back ourselves into existential corners: depression epidemics, fertility crashes, societies crumbling under their own weight and people who need drugs to stop that nagging feeling that they should be doing something that matters. Oddly enough, our very humanity appears to be built upon the fight.

If you meet a dolphin and feel a connection, can you say that you just clicked?

So, what now?

We can’t “prosperity” the struggle out of us. We need leaders who rally us to real frontiers and put real goals out in front of us, not fake fights over tweets®. Stakes high enough to matter: colonize Mars, cure aging, harness fusion. And something for the masses to do, like watching re-runs of Ow, My Balls.

Something. If we don’t have something, we’ll make something. Give us blood (metaphorical or not), steel, the feel of it all. In the end, tranquility was never the goal.

The struggle is the point. It’s what makes us scream, fight, and conquer. As I’ve seen in memes: “I want to go out of this world the same way I came into it: screaming and covered in someone else’s blood.”

And Heaven?

I think it isn’t at all as Grandma Wilder described. I think it’s more like:

Player 1: Ready Level 2.

It Came From . . . 1997

“The only good bug is a dead bug.” – Starship Troopers

Grok™ is getting better – this was a first attempt, and normally it requires a lot of wrestling.

OT: probably a Saturday song will drop tomorrow morning. I’ve got three more in can and think that two of the three are the best so far. I may even drop one on Sunday. We’ll see. Going forward I’m going to target dropping songs on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. As I’ve just started, there seem to be an endless spring of ideas that I’ve been hoarding up my whole life, and I’m enjoying making them come to life. Oddly, I’m my new favorite artist. Working on distribution, still on a steep learning curve.

Once again, were’ back. The high of the 1980s is far in the rearview mirror. Now we’re on the long slope down. Still, there were some fun movies. These aren’t necessarily the best movies of 1997, instead they’re the films I think really exemplify the year. As always, they’re in no particular order.

Waiting for Guffman – This is an ensemble comedy where I think the plan was that you have a basic plot and you let the talented, goofy people making the movie fill in the details. Silly? Yes. Life changing? No. One thing from this particular movie that I find very sad is that the opening scene shows the local cops planning on having sniper overwatch for a local harvest festival in a small Missouri town. It was funny in 1997 because it was absurd. In 2025 it’s not. I guess that’s just the price we pay for ethic food. I wonder why we didn’t import only the recipes?

Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery – Mike Myers creates a parody of a James Bond® film. The particular genius is that the plot is just strong enough to hold everything together and not get in the way of the comedy. The box office was quadruple the cost, so that worked out okay for Mike. Bonus points for lovingly parodying the details of the Bond™ films, such as naming a female character Allota Fagina. Sadly, this caused the James Bond© producers to make the Bond® films less fun by hiring Daniel Craig.

Breakdown – There is nothing special about this movie other than it is a very competent thriller that couldn’t be made in the time of cell phones. Kurt Russell is good, and J.T. Walsh is suitably evil. Cinematic popcorn.

Men in Black – The X-Files™ was pretty big during this time period, so Hollywood decided to make a big budget science fiction comedy based on a fringe UFO topic. I was this many years old when I found out it was also based on a comic book. It made nearly $600 million 1997 bucks, which would have topped the box office for the year except for that pesky Titanic.

Contact – This was a decent movie, though not one where I look forward to seeing it again. It was decent, not great. Plot summary: aliens send us Hitler pics and instructions on how to build a wormhole.

Air Force One – More cinematic popcorn, where president Han Solo tries to kill Count Dracula on an airplane. Silly action fun.

Event Horizon – My favorite movie on this list. Huge critical and commercial failure and yet they nearly made a TV series based on it before COVID came along. Evil Scientist Sam Neill? Yes, please. If you like cosmic horror and haven’t seen it, you’ve been missing out. Warning: it’s not for the faint-hearted.

Kull the Conqueror – Robert E. Howard was the creator of Conan the Barbarian, and also Kull. This is based around his work, and was originally intended to be the third part of the Conan movie trilogy, but that fell apart. I’m glad. This movie is comfy and is its own thing. I loved it, and am perhaps the only one, since it only made $6 million on a $35 million budget. I guess I would suck as a test audience member.

L.A. Confidential – It came out in 1997, but I hadn’t seen it until recently. It’s a decent film noir, and Guy Pearce does a great job as a smart, young cop eager to get ahead. Huge hit, but I avoided it because I loathe Kim Basinger, who strikes me as a person with the intelligence of a basset hound.

Wishmaster – So an evil genie lives in a ruby. In one scene, the camera penetrates they gem, showing that it contains a vast cavern throne room inside the gem. In the cavern, it moves towards a dark, demonic figure sitting on the throne. During the scene, when the camera finally centered on the genie’s face, I said, “Just sitting ‘round, being evil,” and The Mrs. laughed uncontrollably. That’s now a family catchphrase. Other than that, I don’t remember anything about this movie.

Boogie Nights – This is a very good movie, showing how the depravity, drugs, and money of the porn world lead only to pain and dejection, but I’m sure OnlyFans® will turn out differently. Plus? Stark nekkid Heather Graham. Okay, I have contradictory motivations here. Also, one of Burt Reynolds’ best serious roles.

RocketMan – Cost $16 million to make, made $15.4 million. It was hilarious. The underappreciated Harland Williams plays an accidental astronaut whose space hijinks include space farts. It’s stupid-funny, so if you like adolescent humor, this is your show.

Bean – Rowan Atkinson is an engineer with a master’s degree and also a master of comedy. Who says engineers don’t have a sense of humor? Oh, and this film made $250,000,000.

The Devil’s Advocate – Soooooo much overacting in this horror movie which could have also been titled “Al Pacino’s Vocal Coach Is Seventeen Packs of Cigarettes a Day.” No real desire to watch this one again – it’s not a great horror movie, but everyone liked it, because the boxoffice of $153,000,000 was nearly triple the cost.

Gattaca – This movie is about the dangers of genetic engineering on the future, where it creates a society where beautiful, healthy people are everywhere and bad genes are bred out. The horror!

Starship Troopers – Whenever this movie comes up in the comment section everyone argues about it. Every time. Was director Paul Verhoeven trying to make Robert Heinlein look like a fascist and make the humans as the bad guys? Yes. Did almost everyone miss that? Also yes. To try to make fun of Heinlein, he had to actually quote Heinlein, which backfired in a big way. Heinlein’s ideas in the book Starship Troopers are pretty powerful, but also simple. They glimmered through Verhoeven’s attempt to make a woke film, which counts for most of the good parts of the film. But the other fascist elements he added for the parody boomeranged on him to such an extent that all of the GloboLeft critics he wanted to please by making fun of the TradRight thought Verhoeven was a fascist. I guess he sure showed the TradRight by being pro-human rather than loving bugs. My verdict? The only good things (which are very good) are the parts from the book. The rest is mediocre at best.

Once again, I was surprised on how many movies I liked from this year. Almost every movie is beautiful, but the attempts are being made to push the GloboLeft agenda even further, which is (along with foreign markets) what eventually choked Hollywood. I’m debating if we’ll do 1998, and if so, that’ll be in February.

What did I miss?

Self-Control, Scarlett Johansson, and Cigars: The Keys To Happiness

“I know you don’t approve, Pop, but believe me, until you’ve had a good cigar and a shot of whiskey, you’re missing the second and third best things in life.” – Paint Your Wagon

When I was 10, I answered the front door while smoking a cigar and drinking a beer. It was the mailman, who asked if my parents were home. Me: “Does it look like my parents are home?”

There’s a dirty little secret nobody in 2025 wants to hear while they’re doom-scrolling on their $1,600 iPhone in a $6 latte haze of mild caffeination in a room filled with hipsters:

If everything is awesome all the time, nothing is awesome ever again.

I’ll share an example.

There’s a particular Macanudo Maduro® that I love. But if I smoke it every single day, by week three it’s just a brown mouth-trash I’d light up without thinking, same as a Swisher Sweet™.

That ribeye, mashed potatoes, corn and, oh, yeah, baby, gravy I used to save for my birthday? Eat it nightly and suddenly it’s just Tuesday protein.

That OnlyFans™ subscription I swore was “art”? Congratulations, I’ve turned Scarlett Johansson’s doppelgänger into wallpaper. (I’ve never been on OnlyFans©, but wanted an excuse to show a picture of Scarlett Johansson’s, um, assets.)

When a waiter asks for a tip, is that gratuitous?

If I do this, my brain now reads “epic” as “baseline.” That is how luxury murders my joy. It’s inflation, but inflation of things that should be spiritually uplifting. If I flood the zone with dopamine, suddenly nothing matters anymore. I become that guy who needs a $400 bottle of wine to feel what normal people feel from a $12 Malbec on a Saturday night dinner with someone they love.

I figured this out slowly. I asked myself, “Why don’t you like that Macanudo™ as much anymore?” I mean, I’ve never treated myself like a Roman emperor with a Costco card: steak whenever, cigars whenever, and Johnny Walker Blue© whenever. But the cigar pointed me towards thinking about what sparking joy is really about.

Sunday only: the good cigar.

Monday and Wednesday: a reliable but unremarkable daily drivers. Perfectly fine, but not the king.

What a difference!

That Sunday Maduro® became a religious experience. I’d finish putting Monday’s post (yes, I write Monday’s post on Sunday night because I don’t have time travel), hit the hot tub, light the good cigar, and actually taste every note — cedar, cocoa, black pepper, the tears of my enemies, all of it.

But if women ruled the world, there would be no war – just a bunch of countries not talking to each other.

The other days? I enjoyed the lesser sticks more because I knew something glorious was coming. As the dead Raul Julia said, “There are two things worth living for. One is a good cigar. The other is a better one.”

It’s the same with food, but that’s a future Friday post lurking six months to a year out. I’ll just say, my Friday dinner tastes far better than yours.

This is the stoic hack nobody markets because you can’t sell it in a pump bottle or an app or a subscription: deliberate deprivation creates anticipation, and anticipation is the multiplier of pleasure. I can’t recreate the first time I ever had an experience, but I can create enough anticipation to make that experience feel pretty damn good.

The problem is we are a society that is now based on hedonism. Hedonism is spiritual communism: from each according to his credit limit, to each according to his appetite. And like all communist systems, it ends with everyone equally miserable, standing in bread lines for experiences that used to be thrilling.

Look around. We are the richest society in human history and somehow producing the most miserable humans in human history. Suicide rates, antidepressant prescriptions, anxiety, porn addiction, 340% of Gen Z identifying as LGBTQ because vanilla life is so boring they need a new operating system to feel anything and get attention from people who are stuck with their noses in their phones.

Based on that rap song, I bought classical music for my sons when they were young. After all, baby got Bach.

This is all downstream of one fatal error: We removed the delay between desire and gratification.

Want food? DoorDash in six minutes.
Want sex? Swipe.
Want entertainment? Infinite scroll.
Feel bad that someone in Guatemala doesn’t have Hulu®? Invite them all the Squatamalans to come to the United States. Hell, the government will even pay.
Want validation? Post a thirst trap, harvest likes, repeat until dead inside.

Congratulations, you’ve removed the space where soul is honed to a keen edge!

You’ve eliminated the Monday through Saturday of life, the part where you suffer, anticipate, work, wait, and gone straight to an endless Sunday that, paradoxically, feels like nothing at all.

Real joy is not the peak. Real joy is the climb knowing the peak exists.

Paris Hilton signed a contract to do a reality television show of her climbing Mt. Everest. It was the Paris Climb-It Agreement.

That’s why lifting weights is the ultimate red-pill metaphor for life. Nobody loves the squat rack at 5:30 a.m. in January. But every man who has ever built a body he’s proud of loves having built it. The soreness, the sacrifice, the mornings you didn’t feel like it. That’s the lead up to the Sunday cigar. The physique is just the flavor that hits when you finally light it.

Same with marriage, family, wealth, mastery of anything worth doing.

There is no substitute for the iron. You do not get strong without moving heavy things repeatedly while in mild to moderate discomfort.

You do not get wealthy without years of saying no to stupid purchases.
You do not get a great marriage without years of not banging the secretary.
You do not raise great kids without years of being the bad guy who enforces bedtimes.

Every single thing worth having in this life is on the far side of self-control.

Which brings us to the trad-right punchline nobody wants to say out loud: our current societal upheaval is not a bug. It is a feature. We spent seventy years removing all friction from life and now we’re reaping the whirlwind of a generation that has never been told no, never waited for anything, never suffered real consequences.

The result is not utopia.

The result is boys who can’t change a tire, girls who think chastity and modesty are personality disorders, and an entire culture addicted to rage and victimhood because pleasure no longer works on them.

The pendulum is swinging back, hard.

It’s swinging back because young men are waking up in droves, hitting the gym, deleting porn, deleting social media, reading the ancients, building families, and discovering something wild: When you voluntarily embrace the Monday through Saturday of life, the discipline, the wait, the work:

Sunday actually shows up. And when Sunday shows up after six days of earning it, my God, it is glorious.

This scares the GloboLeft so much they even call is fascism.

When I proposed to The Mrs., she paused and said, “I guess that has a nice ring to it.”

So, keep your constant luxury. Keep your endless treats, your participation trophies, your “you deserve it” culture. I’ll keep my three cigars a week, my Thursday dinner, my Sunday Macanudo™, and the deep, soul-level satisfaction that comes from knowing I earned every single drag as I stare out into the infinite horizon of the sky.

Because the secret the stoics knew, that our ancestors knew, that every man who ever built something great knew is this:

Heaven is only Heaven if you’ve walked through Hell to get there.

And brother, I plan on enjoying the hell out of that walk.

See you on the other side. I’ll save you a seat.

And a good cigar.

Who Should Have Won: The 1980s, Part I

“Ray, when someone asks you if you’re a god, you say “Yes!” – Ghostbusters

Actors test their skills to the limit when they act happy when someone else wins an Oscar® instead of them.

The first time I tried “who should have won” as a topic, I don’t think I spent enough time on the topics, and it became a list. I think this is a bit better: for the first half of the 1980s, what movie won the Best Picture© Academy Award™, and what movie should have won.

Your mileage may vary.

Best Film 1980

Actual Winner: Ordinary People.

I went to this movie in the theater. I don’t recall why, but I was probably dragged there by someone older. I do recall hating, with great intensity, every second of the film, which centered around weak people who couldn’t deal with whatever crap they were going through. As I was just a kid without a driver’s license, I was stuck there. The best thing about watching this movie was the box of Raisenettes® and leaving the theater. In retrospect, the best thing about this movie is that most of the people involved in the production are dead.

Should Have Won: The Empire Strikes Back.

This movie based around the heartwarming story of a father being reunited with his long-lost son is a classic. Note also, the father has to face the tragedy of his long-lost daughter getting mixed up with a criminal and a lot of cocaine before. Spoiler, the criminal gets put on ice by her father, but they are reunited in the end.

Best Film 1981

Actual Winner: Chariots of Fire.

I have no idea what the Academy® had about people talking in rooms, but 1981 was yet another movie about people talking in rooms. But the people are old or dead and talk in a British accent, so that makes it classy. I guess. I learned quite a bit from this movie, specifically that I would rather have my eyes gouged out with dull spoons than to watch another movie about track athletes. I watched this movie on a school trip, and all the cool kids went to see Porkuy’s instead, but I stuck around because there was this girl . . . spoiler – she was not worth the seventeen hours that this movie lasted.

Should Have Won: Gallipoli.

If you’re going to have a historical movie about runners, they should be cool and badass. These runners were cool and badass, and also were classy because they were dead and spoke with an Aussie accent and there was a senseless war going on. Bonus points: St. Mel of Gibson stars.

Best Film 1982

Actual Winner: Gandhi.

Biopic of the most famous Indian scammer, who ended up scamming hundreds of millions of Indians that they would be better off kicking the British out resulting in the death of millions to tens of millions of Indians.

Should Have Won: The Thing.

This movie about a castaway trying to make his way through a difficult and challenging world that was completely new to him is engaging. Seriously, this is one of the best horror movies of all time. I saw this in the theater about a month after reading Who Goes There, the story by Based SF author John W. Campbell, Jr., and was not disappointed. Every single frame was perfect, and the ending is seemingly ambiguous. Critics hated this film and it was a box office bomb. Time, however has proven them wrong, wrong, wrong. Bonus: passes the Inverse Bechdel Test because there are no women in the movie, thus making it better.

Best Film 1983

Actual Winner: Terms of Endearment.

I rarely cuss, but, damn. Another stupid movie featuring people with problems talking in rooms. I’m sure this passes the Bechdel Test which may be why I hate this movie with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Additionally, dragging this piece of crap down is Shirley MacLaine, who made exactly one good movie in her life, Two Mules for Sister Sara.

Should Have Won: A Christmas Story.

This movie shows America as it was and is a tale of innocence and honesty. One of the best movies to have ever been made.

Best Film 1984

Actual Winner: Amadeus.

I’d like to say this is the best movie ever that was inadvertently funded by Creedence Clearwater Revival (you can look it up) but I’d have to forget about the Lord of the Rings movies. It was pretty good, but not good enough that I’d pay money to watch it again.

Should Have Won: Ghostbusters.

Or maybe Red Dawn, which was a close second. I settled on Ghostbusters because it is a perfect movie. There are no missed beats. Is there drama? Yes, enough to keep the plot going, but not so much to get in the way of the humor. Murray, Aykroyd, and Ramis are perfect together. The special effects were good enough, and it was a huge hit. How big? It was in the top three grossing films at the box office for sixteen weeks. Ghostbusters had legs. It was also a powerful satire of government power causing problems because it is stupid and a hiding place for petty people.

There you have it. And, this proves the point: the Academy™ always gets it wrong.

I think this works better than the clunky thing I put out two months ago, but that was about the 1970s, which was an awful decade for movies. In January, I’ll tackle 1985-1989.

What did I miss?

Oh, SNAP: The Waste, The Fraud, The Envy, And You’re Not Alone

“He must have just snapped!” – Groundhog Day

Matt has come a long way.

Each time the Trump Administration does something, they bubble things up to the public consciousness that The Powers That Be would rather people not think about. Yeah, Trump is part of The Powers That Be, but this .gov shutdown is exactly what I voted for.

What have you missed during the shutdown?

Oh, nothing?

What if it went on for two months? Four? What if only the “essential” parts (ICE, the actual warfighting part of .mil, and . . . wait, I’m running out of essential) restarted?

It seems like we have discovered (this is not an original idea, /pol/ discusses this frequently) that SNAP (Sheer Nonsense And Plunder) is a program that works like this:

Infinity illegal aliens are
encouraged to come to the country
to make cheap carbohydrates
to feed to minorities
so that Herculean medical efforts are expended to solve the problems caused by the cheap carbs.

Who profits?