Now, you would think with a cost that high that maybe only a handful of people would express interest. You’d be wrong again, as over 100 people applied. The service only plans to take on three people, however. Which means hypothetically — and this is for all you side hustlers out there — that you could TOTALLY take advantage of the remaining 97+ with your own million dollar dating scheme. That’s more than $97 million left on the table. Good luck.
Man, here I am thinking paying a dating app $50 a month for “Platinum Level” is outrageously egregious and akin to buying into an obvious pyramid scheme. Turns out I’m woefully underestimating the willingness some people have to burn cash for empty promises.
So, what do you get for a million bucks anyway? According to the service’s CEO, Adam Cohen-Aslatei:
Cohen-Aslatei described the service as a “one-year intensive dating program,” in which Three Day Rule manages practically every aspect of clients’ dating lives. The company assigns each client a dedicated recruiter, who flies across the country, visiting social clubs, bars and Equinox gyms in search of a match. Matchmakers plan dates in minute detail, and dating coaches prep clients and their matches for dates on everything from hairstyling to etiquette.
It sounds like Three Day Rule is basically a booking agent, like an actor would have. Only instead of hustling to get you a bit part on some shitty sitcom for union minimum, Three Day Rule is out there scouring the globe for a potential lifelong partner. Along the way they are coaching you to make you a better catch in the process.
Hmmm, I could be wrong, but if you’ve got a million bucks to throw around on something like this, I’d say there’s a good chance you’re already a high-value Type-A prospect anyway. People spending this kind of money don’t just have a few million. They are probaby multi-decamillionaires. They are in the top one percent of the one percent. How much better could you really get?
Also, Three Day Rule? That sounds a little too close to “Five Second Rule.” The maxim that says if you drop a cookie on the floor it’s still okay to eat it if you pick it up within five seconds. Might want to consider a name change there.
If you’re looking to be included into the pool of potential recruits for a shot to shack up with a millionaire, you better be ready at the airport. Cohen-Aslatei adds:
…we send our recruiters to airports around the country to sit at the gates going to the cities our clients are located in. And they strike up conversations, they get to know them, and then we decide they’re going to be palatable and the right type of a match for our client.
Just great. Now instead of only worrying about handsy TSA agents patting you down, assholes playing music loudly on their phones, flight delays, and overpaying for crappy food and beverages, you’ll have to contend with under cover Cupids possibly probing you as match for some rich dork who can’t be bothered to chat people up on their own. Nice.
Look, anyone who uses this service is stupid, obviously. But it raises questions about the ridiculous way in which we as a culture value and assess possible mates, and the oftentimes impossible standards we apply. No one wants to “settle” these days. Everyone wants to hold out for a “better deal.” This is largely due to social media and the infinite scroll of dating apps, which, like a viewing portal into a magical land, offer a fictitious glimpse of a better life with glamorous people. We’re beset with a paradox of choice, always thinking something better is just around the corner. The effect is people become disposable, useful only until the next “upgrade” is available.
Meanwhile, marriage rates and pregnancy rates continue to drop. All this apparent availability and choice haven’t made the process of finding love better. It’s made people crazy enough to actually try a service like this. If people are willing to pay this much for a chance at a partner, that to me is indicative that things today are truly desperate and broken.
Using this service is also hideously materialistic and soullessly calculative. As if you could buy a partner as you would a yacht or a personal jet. You could almost certainly do better attracting mates by simply getting a cute puppy and going for walks around your neighborhood. There are free dogs at the shelter up for adoption everyday. You could revamp your wardrobe for a few thousand. You could hit the gym and get into shape. You could take classes in-person at a local college. Or participate in expensive hobbies that other high networth people tend to be attracted to — private pilot lessons, going on luxury vacations, or golfing, for instance.
Let’s say you did happen to find a marriage partner using this service, but then you get divorced in two years. What then? That’s a pretty high price to pay just to have someone share your bed for 24 months. You could afford a high-end $1000 escort to fuck your brains out every weekend for nearly TWENTY YEARS for the same price, and you wouldn’t have to worry about losing half your shit in divorce court when your partner randomly decides things “aren’t working out for them” anymore.
Maybe money can’t buy you love. Or maybe it can. There are plenty of gold diggers out there willing to shack up with an uggo just to drive a Mercedes-Benz. But I do agree with the notion that the “best things in life are free.” While we as a society keep trying to monetize and systemize everything in sight, love will remain the one thing you can’t put a price tag on.
A sentimental listing of my senior vehicles current and past.
My Saturn.
I’ve never been a car guy. Probably that’s due to growing up dirt poor. It’s not like I had a choice there anyway. But it’s more than that. A lot of guys connect their whole identity or sense of masculinity to a set of wheels. I never did that. Never cared.
Sometimes, I wish I could be a car guy. One of those guys who waxes eloquent about this engine or that engine. But for me, a car has always been a metal box with wheels meant to get me from one point to another.
I currently drive a “senior vehicle,” as I’ve written about in the past. Which is a nice way of saying it’s a beater. Even though I could easily afford a new car in cash, I choose to keep driving like I’m broke. I love my old Saturn. She’s a stick shift coupe with almost 200,000 miles. She’s semi-retired now. I’m fortunate to have a work truck I use to get to where I need to, you know, work. And because I live in a small town, I really just use my car for grocery store runs, and the occassional day trip across state. Even in brutally cold winters and burning hot summers, my senior vehicle has just kept chugging along on her minor assignments. Eventually the day will come when she’ll finally give out. When that day comes I’ll give her a Viking funeral for her many years of service. For now she just keeps hanging on like a loyal dog.
Just yesterday I calculated about how much I’ve spent on vehicle purchases over the course of my driving life so far, and I was shocked. I’ll itemize all of my car purchases in a moment, but I’ll just state the number up front here to get it over with. This is approximately how much I’ve spent on cars over 26 years of driving:
— — $12,500 — —
That’s it. From age 16, when I bought my first car, until now, at age 42. Not even thirteen grand. That wouldn’t even buy half of a new base model Honda Civic nowadays after taxes and fees. This absurdly low number is an aberration when you consider that most people are driving around with ginormous car payments and cars that cost as much as houses. I know a guy at work who got a raise, then immediately ran out and financed a $65,000 SUV. That’s more than 5x more than what I’ve paid for vehicles my whole life, just on ONE purchase. Insane.
My first car was a 1982 Buick Skylark. Cost — $200
The same make and model and year even of the car in My Cousin Vinny. I bought it from a mechanic who was a friend of the family. You always remember your first time. My Skylark had a weird tick where it needed to be warmed up for several minutes before it could be driven, or else it would stall out. So, everytime I started it I had to sit there and let it idle before I could go anywhere. Not the worst feature, really, as I used to smoke at the time, and I was a teen with not exactly the busiest of schedules. I’d sit there and smoke a Marlboro, then take off.
My Buick wasn’t exactly a hot rod. But it only cost two hundred. Eventually, when it became impractical to fix, I wound up donating it to some veteran’s charity. I wish I had taken some pictures of it, or at least appreciated it more while I had it. That car represented a big life transition for me. I moved out of my parent’s house at 17 and graduated high school in that car. I miss it sometimes, but I’m glad it was able to go to help people in need at the end of its life.
My second car was a 1987 Toyota Celica. Cost ~ $1,200.
Aw man, I was hot shit driving this around. This was an upgrade. ’82 to ’87. A whole five years! It was a coupe, too, which meant it was practically like a race car.
I kid, of course. I liked this car, but I was never under the illusion that it was anything other than a semi-reliable hunk of aluminum. This car’s tick was an issue with the flywheel. Every so often when I went to start the flywheel would SQUEAL loudly. This made it super embarassing to drive, of course. So, I used to always look around to see if anyone was around before cranking the ignition.
I remember this car more because of how I bought it. I found it in the paper (this was the year 2000, mind you), advertised by this wealthy Main Line physician. It had been his daughter’s college car, and he was just looking to offload it ASAP. After agreeing to buy it, we went to the title and registration, where he proceeded to lie about the price of the car, saying it was $200 instead of the agreed-upon $1,200. This was to save money on taxes and other fees. I was kind of a naive kid at the time, so someone blatantly doing this just to save a couple bucks was a surprise. You mean people LIE to save money? OMG.
This car helped get through a few years of community college. It wasn’t the worst vehicle to have. But it’s not really a car I miss.
My third and fourth cars were 1990 Toyota Corollas. Cost ~$2,200 (combined).
Madonna had her goth phase. Western Civilization had its Romantic Age. I had my Toyota Corolla Era. This was a gilded period where I happened to luck into two very reliable Corollas of the same year back-to-back. The first was a plucky automatic that safely manuevered me across the country in a move from Pennsylvania to Tennesse, and then back again 14 months later. That one was about $1,000.
The other was a stick shift that I didn’t even know how to drive when I bought it. I was a quick learner, though. I’d practiced previously in other vehicles, and so was able to get this back home, only stalling out a few times in the process. This one set me back about $1,200.
Toyota Corollas are perfect little economy cars. It was such a shame I lost both of them due to accidents, neither of which were my fault. The first one I was rear-ended by a lady on my way to work. The other I was side-swiped by a tow truck. The cars were totaled each time. I miss those two cars, and I sometimes think that if it hadn’t been for the accident, I might still be driving the stick shift one. Oh, well. As my boss at the time said, “You can replace a car, but you can’t replace you.”
My fifth car was a 1990(ish) Toyota Tercel. Cost: $400.
I hate to speak ill of any of my senior vehicles, but this thing really was a piece of shit. It didn’t have a muffler, so it sounded like a jet engine driving down the road. It was coming apart at the seams when I got it, but I needed a ride to work, and so I had to get it.
Do you have any idea how nerve-wracking it is to drive on Route 76 from Philadelphia into New Jersey everyday on a rusted bucket of bolts that sounds like it’s going to rattle loose any second, leaving you sitting in the highway holding a steering wheel in your hands? It’s Heart Attack City, man.
Mr. Tercel only made it a few months before shutting down and needing a tow to the big junkyard in the sky. Good riddance, too, as he probably would have wound up killing me at some point.
My sixth car was a 1997 Nissan Maxima. Cost~$1000.
This was another short-timer. It’s issue was an ongoing oil leak. Bad, I know. Cars kind of need oil to keep running. Except I didn’t have any money to fix it. You might have noticed a recurring theme of low-income issues here. Just buying these cars themselves was breaking the bank for me. At the time I had to squeeze every dollar I could. I couldn’t afford luxuries like properly running engines.
I liked this car a lot when I first got it. It was smooth, roomy, and finally got me out of the year 1990, where I’d been stuck for almost ten years. Then the oil issue finally caused the engine to seize up on the highway, where I had it towed away for good.
My seventh and current car is a 2006 Saturn Ion. Cost ~ $7,500.
That brings me to my present senior vehicle. This was the first car I bought through financing. I’d never bought a vehicle other than through a private party prior to this, and always in cash, so this was a new deal for me. I was desperate for a car. I wasn’t happy to have to take on monthly payments for a vehicle. The whole thing felt alien and just plain wrong to me. Still does, actually. But I had once been a car salesman for Saturn some years prior, and I knew they were generally reliable vehicles. I happened upon a good deal for one in 2011, a month or so after my Maxima died, and with trepidation, signed for the loan on the dotted line.
I actually hated this car at first. She gave me nothing but problems the first year. She had some electrical issues that made the doors unlock and lock constantly. When it rained a leak let water in through the passenger side door. So during bad thunderstorms I’d come out and find the floor filled with water. She needed a water pump that cost me over $1,200 to fix. And she was a stick shift, too, which was a pain in the ass to drive in bumper to bumper traffic on the highways into work.
But looking back, my Saturn was one of the catalysts that motivated me to change my life and seek out better economic opportunities. See, between the auto loan payment and the insurance, I was paying over $500 A MONTH just to drive the thing. That’s not counting the cost of repairs, the maintenance, the gas, and the PA/NJ tolls. I was literally working just to keep the car, so I could use it to go to work to continue to pay for the damn car. A vicious, demoralizing cycle, to say the least. Plus, everytime something broke, I’d end up maxxing out my credit cards to fix it. Then pay off the card. Only for something else to break on it again and have to start all over. It was madness.
My Saturn got me out to North Dakota, where I eventually found work in the oilfields. She took me on a West Coast Tour, when I decided to use some time off to drive all the way from North Dakota to Washington to Los Angeles, to back home in Philly, to back in ND. She got me through my two last years in college. All while bravely surviving the brutal cold and winds of this upper midwest hellhole.
I paid my Saturn off way back in 2013. Her purchase price was something like $6,995, but after interest payments and such, it comes out to around $7,500 total. I wound up paying her off early, and then vowing never to finance another vehicle. I’ll ride a bike or thumb a ride before doing that. Fuck debt.
My Saturn is semi-retired now. She still runs just fine when I need her on a day trip somewhere. I give her oil changes early. I never take her out in bad weather. Baby doesn’t get her shoes wet. If I were forced to take a job where I had to drive my own car back and forth to work, or if I were to move to a city, I’d have to upgrade vehicles. But for now I’m in a good and rare situation where I can keep her for as long as she’ll run. When I travel longer distances I usually rent a car or fly. My Saturn could blow up today, and she would have paid for herself many, many times over. Hopefully, whenever that day comes for her to finally give up the ghost, there will be a place I can park her in the Louvre, because that’s where she belongs. Frankly, I don’t think I could ever give her up. We’ve been through too much together at this point. She’s gray and unassuming. Her driver’s side window molding flew off a while ago. She doesn’t have anywhere near the pep she used to have. But she still starts when I turn the key. I love her a great deal. Perhaps I am a car guy, afterall.
Over a decade ago, after moving to North Dakota to work in the oilfield, I lived in a church basement that had been fitted with dorm-style units. One of my “basement mates” was a nice guy in his 50’s from Virginia named “Alan.” We got to talking one day and he told me how he had $50,000 saved up that he was planning on using in the next big stock market correction. This was only a few years after the 2008 Wall Street crash, so it was still fresh on everyone’s minds.
At the time, ND was undergoing a massive oil boom due to technological improvements in the fracking process. Everyone working in the industry was making huge amounts of money, and like a rising tide, that lifted other sectors as well. Cooks at fast food places were starting at $18 an hour and up. Wal-Mart was paying people $25 an hour. Rent skyrocketed, too. I paid $1000 a month for my tiny basement dorm.
Alan was a CDL treater truck driver. Basically, he drove around to well sites with a giant mobile furnace that could heat up oil and water, and flushed chemicals, water, or oil down well heads in order to keep the lines clear and lubicated. He was probably making around $160K a year with all the OT he was pulling in. So, it was no surprise he had piles of cash sitting around.
I remember asking Alan that if the market were to crash, at what point would he jump in with his war chest? When it was down 10%? 15%? 20%? He didn’t have an answer. Back then interest rates were super low. He was probably only getting around 2% max on a savings account. That’s losing out to inflation badly. The real rate of inflation is not 2–3% like the government likes to report. It’s more like 7% when you factor in everything like real estate, college tuition, cars, medical care — everything that goes into living a life.
Since my talk with Alan over a decade ago (around spring, 2013), the S&P has gone up 3.5x from 1680 to over 6,000. That $50,000 would be worth $175,000 today had it been invested in an ETF like SPY. Interest rates have increased modestly, going as high as 5.5% for some savings accounts when they were at their highest. But nowhere close to a 3.5x return like the S&P.
Worth noting: SPY was about $156 back then. The ETF paid out $1.97 per share in its last dividend distribution. Buying $50K worth of SPY then would pay you $630 per quarter now, and nearly $2,500 a year. That’s the same amount you’d get if you just stuck that $50k in the bank with a 5% interest rate. So, the dividends alone are matching savings accounts. To say nothing of the compound growth in dividend reinvestment, or employing other forms of income like selling covered calls.
Bottom line: Owning the S&P is going to likely give you 10%-15% returns every year over the long-term.
Also worth noting: the stock market hasn’t crashed like it did in 2008 since my talk with Alan. Even the brief Covid crash and the 2022 correction weren’t anywhere close to the near -50% drop seen in 2007 through 2009.
Here’s another way to think about it. Let’s say you have a million dollar stock portfolio in the S&P 500, and $100,000 in dry powder on the sidelines waiting to use for the next big crash. If stocks drop 10%, even if you timed the bottom perfectly, you’re only getting a 10% discount. How many years of dividend gains and compound growth did you give up for that “big” discount there? Obviously, you wouldn’t time the bottom perfect, either. No one can. Anything less than a 5% discount is only matching what you’d get in a high-interest savings account. So, it’d be a wash at that point.
But what about investors like Warren Buffett who keeps hundreds of billions in cash sitting around? What about individual stocks and investments outside the S&P?
Big investors like Buffett and others operate at such a high level that it’s hard to know their ultimate motives or aims. Buffett isn’t concerned with grabbing a mere 10% discount on the S&P. He wants to own entire companies or take controlling interests in things, like how he bought BNSF railroad in 2010. Accredited investors like him are also afforded “insider” opportunities on things that average investors are not, such as IPOs and such. An investor like him might keep cash sitting around waiting for an AirBnb to come along.
For the average “buy and hold” diversification-style investor, aka the one looking to retire at 60ish with one mil plus, it doesn’t make sense to keep tons of cash sitting around waiting on some big crash. Especially if you’re largely just buying the S&P 500 or the NASDAQ anyway. For someone like that, you really only need emergency savings PLUS “peace of mind.” Meaning whatever extra you need that helps you sleep at night. Five thousand, ten thousand, whatever.
For more active investors, more cash is going to be strategically optimal depending on their experience and timing. During market drawdowns, individual stocks afford better buy-in opportunities than the S&P, obviously. Buyers of META during Mark Zuckerberg’s Congressional hearings in 2022 could have bought the stock at near $100. It’s since gone up past $600. A fantastic return in only two years.
Last March, Reddit offered users the opportunity to invest in the company’s pre-IPO share price at $34. I bought some myself, as I talk about in this article here. Since the stock’s public listing, it’s gone up to $180, giving over a 5x return. That was a time when having some cash lying around proved a good idea for me. But remember, speculation is still speculation. Plenty of individual stocks that once looked like bargains have continued to crash.
I read articles saying you should keep 10–20% of your portfolio in cash sitting around for big opportunities. I don’t think you need quite that much. Ideally, you would simply take one investment’s profits to switch into another investment. After measuring the tax hit, of course. Then you’re kind of playing with house money. For instance, I sold a bunch of alt coins a few weeks back, some of which I’d made multiple x returns on over the last 18 months. I rolled most of the gains into my River exchange account where I get a 3.8% annual return paid in Bitcoin, while using the money toward my $20 daily DCA 2025 experiment. As Bitcoin hits certain benchmarks, I’ll likely ladder out some of my holdings into the S&P or into other assets. If I were to take, say, $50K out of my Bitcoin profit holdings for use as a down payment on a house, it’d be like I got that $50K for free. I also made that $50K way faster than it would have taken me if I tried saving it.
And that’s another thing to consider. It takes forever to save up cash even if you have a high income. Even if you make $100k a year, after taxes and expenses, it might take you a few years to save up a mere $50K. Meanwhile, the S&P is going up 10–15% a year, and other stocks or cryptos are going up big. Most likely, you’re better off just putting as much of your money to work as possible, and keeping enough on the side for emergencies and a little extra for peace of mind.
As an experiment, last night I created an account on Match.com. I know, I know. Why the hell would I do that in this day and age? Dating apps have gone the way of the dodo bird and all. Well, I like to think of myself as a sexy rogue scientist. I don’t have any credentials, degrees, or research papers to show for it. But so what? Edgar Allan Poe dreamt up black holes and the Big Bang theory (the theory itself, not that stupid show) while scribbling drunk off his ass decades before so-called “real scientists” confirmed them. If he can theorize things, I can too.
I says to myself, there’s just no way all these reports I hear of the shockingly low number of quality female matches on these apps can be correct. It has to be Red Pill Propaganda. Fake news designed to demoralize men so they don’t even bother trying in the first place. Disinformation to help juice the search algo for all those Andrew Tate “woman-hating” clones out there. I refused to believe any of that. I will remain an eternal optimist.
Anyway, I create my profile. It’s easy, and only takes a few minutes. I even uploaded a few hot pics of myself. I mean, all pics of me are hot, but just to clarify. After inputing all the necessary info, Match then confronted me with some criteria questions. Would you date a woman with kids? Since there’s not a “Fuck no, I’m not a step-sucker,” option, I had to contend with just clicking the box for “No.” Then there’s a tab you can click that says “must-have.” That means single mommies will be EXCLUDED from your results. Good riddance, says I. I’m not into funding some other man’s sperm bank. I mean, when you go into Mcdonald’s, do you start digging into the trash can for a leftover half-eaten Big Mac? No. You walk up to that counter and order a brand new one. Only degenerates, beggars, and the mentally ill eat out of trash cans. So, why would you treat your dating life any different?
Next came the age criteria. I’m 42 so I usually set the age between 27–35, but I was feeling magnanimous so I upped it to 37. I know super old Bill Belichick, 70s, is dating some hot chick in her 20s these days. But since I haven’t won any Super Bowls (yet) and I’m not worth $100 million+ (yet) I have to try to be realistic. It is what it is.
I live in the upper midwest, which is basically like living on Mars at a giant truck stop. So, usually on ANY dating app I have to expand the search zone out as far as reasonable in order to get any matches whatsoever. This time I set it to 350 miles. Though honestly, 345 miles of that is just me humoring the site. I don’t think I’d make the effort to even cross the street these days for a date, much less travel across an entire state. But you can’t just put five miles where I live, and even 50 miles wouldn’t be enough. Tree fiddy felt like a happy medium.
Then, it was off to the races. If by races, you mean a pitiful rogues gallery of candidates. Like, I’m pretty sure Batman fought some of the freaks I saw. Match doesn’t let you search by grid unless you have an upgraded account, so I was forced to inspect each profile one by one “swipe-’em” style. It took about as long to get through them as it does to read this paragraph.
How did I do, overall? It was absolutely awful, to be blunt. I ran into the same issue I had with speed dating, which I talk about in this article here. Out of about 20 or so candidates, realistically I’m left with only about 2–3 that are legit potentials. Meaning women who aren’t too old, aren’t fat, don’t exhibit a bad attitude toward men or have “trauma,” aren’t covered in sleeve tattoos, don’t have a list a mile long of necessary atttributes for the perfect man, and haven’t done the ol’ slut-to-born-again-Christian routine so many post-30 year-old ladies like to do these days.
Match has the gall to beg for pricey upgrades. Like I’m going to pay $40 for a meager 2–3 above average profiles that are most likely months old and long forgotten by their users, or are getting spammed by a hundred other dickheads on the daily.
Sometimes, Match would get clever and try to sneak one in from my reject list. I’d be swiping along and then suddenly see a half-decent female, click on their profile, only to see she had two kids at home, or see that she was 48 years old, or see some other disqualifying bullshit. LOL, nice catfish, Match, but this guy has standards.
It’s hard to understate how atrocious these results are. This is Match.com, which is basically the Wal-Mart of dating apps. The Match Group owns like half the online dating sites. I think Match itself is the biggest dating site on the planet. Yet by simply tweaking a few parameters over a massive region and adjusting for women in the PRIME dating/marriage range, I was met with nothing but slim pickens, though ironically few were actually slim. If Match results are total shit, I can’t even imagine what lesser sites might produce. Probably something from the Garbage Pail Kids. Gross.
It’s not really Match’s fault, I guess. They only show you whoever signs up. Dating apps aren’t as popular as they once were. The best people are typically not on or in need of dating apps. Or maybe they’re using Facebook, Instagram, or other sites.
Then it hit me. My eureka moment. What if I were to lower my standards? Or abandon them altogether? What if I tried removing ALL my previously set parameters. Surely that would open the floodgates of opportunity. Surely, by some chance, I’d happen across a nugget of gold in this landfill. Right?
Nah, fuck that, I thought, and deleted my account less than an hour after opening it. So long, Match. Burn in hell.
Years ago, when I was a little kid, I had this sudden weird urge to dig a hole in my backyard one day. Why? Hell if I know. It made sense at the time. So, I grabbed a shovel and started digging out behind a giant bush in the corner of the property. I dug and I dug and I dug until it was past nine o’clock. The sun was still out as it was summer. I had probably reached maybe three feet and had a nice heap of dirt beside me. My step-dad came out and asked me why I was digging the hole. I didn’t have an answer. What kid has a rational explanation for anything he does? I just kind of stood there, shrugged, and then went back to digging. He was wearing shorts and tube socks pulled all the way up. He was the kind of guy who needed his tube socks always pulled up past his calves. He stands there a bit. I keep shoveling with his stupid step-dad tube-socked feet in the corner of my eye. Finally, I hear him sigh and then walk away from me, leaving me in peace at last. Not long after my hole has become the shape of an upside-down tear drop as I couldn’t flatten the sides anymore. And that’s when I see something at the bottom.
A little piece of blue something. I reached down to pick it up, straining my shoulders against the top of the hole, until I am able to pinch it between my fingers. It’s a piece of plastic. Maybe from a shopping bag. Or perhaps the coating of a pipe that peeled away. Except there’s no pipe in my hole. It’s just this random tidbit that somehow got down in the dirt and stayed there until I rescued it from oblivion. I take this little blue “treasure” inside with me and store it away. I’ve since lost it. But it became a haunting metaphor for life about chance, timing, opportunity, and such, that I’ve thought about from time to time. I’ve applied the metaphor to job searches, school applications, business ideas, stories, and now of course dating websites. Dig and dig only to end up with a piece of trash. But who knows. Maybe if I’d dug just six feet to the right where my step-dad’s tube-socked feet were standing I might have dug up a wheat penny. Or maybe hit an electrical line and shocked myself to death.
I was in Wal-Mart waiting in line at the return counter for some stupid reason I forget. While there, I saw a kid who looked nine or ten years old or so and his mom waiting in line. Well, the mom was in line. The kiddo, who was adorned in baggy sweat clothes and looked like a pile of laundry sprung to life, was sprawled out on the one bench, legs spread, one hand fiercely smashing virtual buttons on his smartphone. And whining. Whining, whining, whining about being hungry. So he goes to his mom and begs for a snack. She, without even looking, as though she were spreading bread crumbs for an obnoxious park pigeon, digs into a box of freaking ice cream sandwiches and hands her offspring one of them. The kid tears it open and returns to the bench. All the while his stupid phone game jingles and jangles as he plays it with one hand while stuffing his face with the other.
Now, I don’t think this is an overreaction, but I wanted to punt that kid across the room for acting like that. I stood there in awe watching the tragic scene unfold. You could tell this kid knew how to whine his way into anything, and the mother always, always gave in. He was already fat. Fat at nine years old. The mother was fat. Both had that slovenly, insolent look about them that makes your blood boil and hate humanity.
I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was absolutely unacceptable to behave like that for me growing up. Sure, as a little kid I was rambunctious. But once I was old enough to understand the English language and the concept of right or wrong I knew to be on my best behavior in public. I never acted uncouth, certainly not as old as nine or ten or older.
I wasn’t treated like some wild animal that needed to be placated with sugary treats and electronic distraction. I was treated like a person who required discipline and structure, which is what children need if they’re going to have any hope of reaching adulthood and NOT become gigantic useless assholes.
A few years ago I was visiting a former place of employment to fill out some paperwork. While there I had to sit next to a mother and her five-year-old, who was playing some game on his tablet the whole freaking time. I don’t know what this game was, but it involved capturing fruit or something, and so whenever this kid scored points or whatever, the game would loudly chime, “YOU GOT A BANANA!”
This was an office for a mental health nonprofit, mind you. Not the entrance to Disneyworld. Ironically, this kid and his stupid game nearly made me lose my mind. By the hundredth “YOU GOT A BANANA!” I finally shot a polite glance at the mother, who was playing on her phone, too, and she did finally lower the volume. Yes lady, I have ears. I certainly can hear your stupid offspring’s loud AF game.
An old saying goes that children should be “seen but not heard.” I couldn’t disagree more. I think children should be NEITHER seen NOR heard. In fact, I think children should be packed up and sent to one of those mean, nasty English boarding schools. Like the one in that Pink Floyd music video for “Another Brick in the Wall.” Where the guy yells, “How can you have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat?” Then, after they turn 18, those newly minted adults can be sent to college or trade school to become productive citizens.
Oh, that’s completely unreasonable. We should let them explore themselves and just be who they are. Children are magical little beings!
No, they’re not. They’re not. They are ignorant. They are stupid. They know nothing. They are clueless. They dont know “shit about fuck” to be blunt. When NASA was launching that gigantic V-2 rocket into space to land on the moon, do you recall seeing any 12-year-olds in that control room with the guys who had those crew cuts and pocket calculators? When you’re watching the Super Bowl, do you see any ten-year-old boys out there on the field throwing touchdown passes? No, of course not. Do you think Taylor Swift just accidentally wandered onto a stage one day with a guitar and became famous out of nowhere? Do you think her parents had to tell her sometimes, “Get in that room and practice that guitar!” I guarantee you they did.
Everytime I go out in public I see kids in designer clothes. Kids playing with smartphones. Kids acting like zoo animals. Kids that seem to run their families. All the while the parents stand there agape like zombies doing nothing.
NEWSFLASH: Kids will not magically fix themselves when they turn 18. An asshole kid WILL become an asshole adult 100% of the time.
I look around and all I see is parents OUTSOURCING every parental responsibility to someone else who is often just as irresponsible or worse. They outsource education to government schools. They outsource nurturing to daycare centers while the parents go out to work. They outsource time and attention to TV and movies and streaming sites like Disney and Netflix. They outsource all knowledge to social media — YouTube and TikTok. They even outsource sexual education. Do you realize that boys as young as EIGHT are exposed to hardcore pornography on their phones? Think of how much that’s warping their brains.
But you just said you want to send kids to mean, nasty English boarding schools. Isn’t that outsourcing?
In that case it’s okay, because it’s way better than them ending up flailing around like an untethered blimp in a Wal-Mart and munching on ice cream sandwiches for breakfast. There are SOME good places to outsource, and if parents are going to behave like brainless dolts then it’s better the kids go somewhere else where they can actually learn and develop. I’m all about practical solutions here not inflexible ideology.
Anyway, what is the result of all this awful outsourcing? Children in school today outsource their studies and their ability to think to CHAT-GPT. They don’t think critically, they just transcribe whatever the all-knowing all-wise AI computer in the sky tells them, as if they were ancient scribes scribbling out a prophetic vision of the future.
Made with Midjourney
Parents today don’t even seem to really want kids. They regard their own offspring as if they were happenstantial bodily growths. Like talking moles. Something to be looked at curiously, then ignored, or left to the “experts” or “society” to deal with. Parents are letting teachers call the shots. The third grade teacher thinks Johnny should go on Ritalin because he once looked out the window? Better medicate the hell out of our boy. Don’t want to disagree with an “expert.” Some 85-pound woman on TikTok is telling our 13-year-old daughter she should go on an all juice diet to stay thin? Well, we don’t want to interfere. Hashtag telling our kids to eat Tide pods for the lolz? We had no idea that was going on, honest.
Why do you suppose so many young men today have checked out of the dating market and aren’t looking for relationships? What do you think is really powering the incel movement? Absentee fathers. Why do you think so many young women are incompetent door knobs? Absentee mothers who would rather watch some trash on Netflix than prevent their daughters from getting an STD before their sixteenth birthday.
Point is, a lot of social problems these days can be traced back to shitty parenting. I’m not saying good parenting can fix everything. You can’t fix every person. Some kids are psychopaths, for sure. But you sure can mitigate a lot of issues out there.
Oh, but it’s so expensive to raise kids these days. You have no idea how hard it is. Both parents have to work. Inflation, cost of living, double-income households, etc.
Listen, I was born into poverty. I grew up in the lower-middle working class. I started working at 12-years old and haven’t stopped since. I had to pay for my own braces by selling candy door to door. Spare me your lousy complaints. I didn’t turn into some obnoxious hellion adult. Because as a kid I was disciplined and taught there is a right way to act and a wrong way. Not an easy set-up in life, but I made it through and didn’t become a felon or some adult loser who blames “society” for their own patheticness.
You can call me harsh. You can call me unreasonable. But you can’t say I don’t care. I care that kids today are raised right so they can be successful adults. I care that they have the tools they need to not just survive but thrive in the world.
Keeping things easy and mostly automatic going into the new year.
Made with Midjourney
I love investing. I love saving. I love seeing my money grow over time without having to do anything other than sit and wait. I think it was Charlie Munger or Warren Buffett who said, “Compound interest is the eight wonder of the world.” He was quite right.
2024 delivered some fantastic gains across the board for virtually all assets — gold, Bitcoin, and US stocks, of course. Like many others, I’ve seen my networth grow substantially. At this rate, I’ll be semi-retired far earlier than I expected. All good.
While I love investing and watching markets, I hate all the hand-wringing and consternation that often goes along with it. It’s great to make money, but not if you’re going to obsess about it and be checking stock tickers and the Bitcoin price every five seconds. What kind of a life is that?
It stressed me out all year. As I get older, I’ve learned that nothing beats having peace of mind.
I’ve been burned in the past on bad investments that I put way too much time and thought into, while ironically doing quite well in ones I didn’t think much about because they were diversified and “boring.”
My ETFs and index funds? All in the green. But often I do poorly in individual stocks or options investing. I did do great with the Reddit IPO in 2024, nearly 5x-ing my small pre-public investment. Looking back, I wish I had put way more in than I did. But hindsight is 20/20 and all.
To help keep things simple and easy, I’ve decided on a very straightforward strategy. Basically, any money I use for investing after taxes, expenses, and my retirement account contributions will be apportioned like this:
60% equities — Meaning SPY and QQQ, the only two holdings currently in my main non-retirement brokerage account.
20% Bitcoin — This is in addition to my 2025 DCA experiment, which I outlined here. Bitcoin is volatile as hell, obviously, but I’m in it for the long haul. I’ve been in crypto since 2020, so I’m a weathered vet at the ups and downs.
10% precious metals (mainly gold)— I only buy bullion in one ounce increments to save on over spot mark-up, and I prefer the .9999 purity of the incomparable British Britannias. Such a lovely coin, and actually the cheapest way to buy gold over the American Eagles, Buffalos, Canadian Maple Leafs, or almost anything other than packaged gold bars. I also like to buy the silver Britannias every year, too.
10% cash savings — This is money I’ll be saving for pretty much anything. It could be for investing into any of the above categories, toward vacations, collectibles, something risky like options, or whatever. This is savings that sits on top of my emergency fund. Obviously, if I had to dip into my emergency savings for something I’d have to replinish that first before anything else.
What’s missing? Real estate. I don’t own a house or any property, and don’t have any plans to just yet. Housing is not really practical or even worthwhile where I live because of the harsh winters and the constant maintenance problems. So, I continue to rent, which I think is a better value overall for now. In the future, I’d like to own my own home. So when that happens my investment strategy would have to be adjusted accordingly.
Also missing, a side business. Medium provided a nice little side income for 2024, but not enough to make a big difference. I’m looking to get into YouTube in the new year, but that may take awhile to become monetized. I have considered buying businesses and such. It would have to be the right deal and the right situation. I’m not going to plunk down money into something just because it’s trendy or seems like a “sure thing.” There is no such thing as a sure thing in business.
Really, at the end of the day, I’m a writer. A “content creator,” to use that hated phrase that’s in vogue. I think I’d rather just focus on that gift. I’m only happy when I’m writing and creating something to entertain or inform people. I’ll look for ways to expand, improve, and monetize my writing skills.
Hopefully, this new investing strategy will help alleviate my mind. Looking back, I’ve spent way too much time thinking and worrying about money, while neglecting other areas of my life. Money is great and all, but it cannot give you a fulfilled life, necessarily. I love being in the game, don’t get me wrong. The process of making money is fun and fulfilling. But after awhile, it just becomes video game points.
Cradle-robbing, wrinkly, and penniless sad sacs are giga-generating single moms and fatherless kids in SEA. That is some bullshit right there.
For a guy who sings about not getting any satisfaction, Rolling Stones frontman, the legendary (and knighted) Mick Jagger actually has eight kids. His latest, named Deveraux Octavian Basil Jagger, arrived back in 2016 when the singer was freaking 73 years old. At the time his partner, American ballerina Melanie Hamrick, was 29 years old.
To that I say, good for you, buddy. With the population plummeting across most of the world, we need stone cold Sperminator’s like the old Mickster firing on all cylinders, so to speak. Afterall, the guy’s got to be a billionaire at this point. He’s been a rock and roll legend for over five decades. If he croaks tomorrow, he’ll be leaving an enormous estate to his wife and children. I bet each of his kids already has a $50M+ trust fund in their name ready to go for fast cars, vintage clothing, and high-quality blow, or whatever it is trust fund babies get up to these days.
While a massive pile of cash can never replace your one and only father, it certainly goes very far in securing you a comfortable existence, and allows you to appreciate the legacy of your sire.
But is this good idea for every old guy out there with a solid sperm count?
Having children in your 70s as a man, while biologically possible, is fraught with various risks and downsides. Chiefly that you likely won’t be around to see your kids grow up, or won’t be in any kind of shape to do so anyway. It’s hard to play catch with a 12-year-old when you’re in a nursing home hooked up to an IV.
But hey, love is love, and if you’re a guy like Jagger with “wealth and taste” and still able to get that sweet, sweet honey, I say go for it.
However, pulling a Mick Jagger is not something that can work or should work for most men. Which brings me to my point of outrage in this article.
What the fuck is up with broke and old ass loser geriatrics knocking up young hotties in South East Asia, and then leaving behind penniless single moms and fatherless children after they croak?
There’s an old guy I follow on YouTube who lives in the Philippines. He chronicles his experiences there, interviews other expats, and shares pearls of widom about love, life, money, and getting older. He’s married to a beautiful Filipina in her 20s. Just this year his wife gave birth to a son.
But just recently, this guy died unexpectedly from a stroke and heart attack at the tender age of 69.
I won’t name or link to the channel out of respect for the friends and family of the guy. He had an interesting life story. He moved to the Philippines about five years ago out of desperation, unemployed, broke, with only social security, needing to live in a place with a very low cost of living. But most importantly wanting to restart his life somewhere after years of health and employment problems in the States. He’d been divorced for some time, and had grown children. After settling in, he started his YouTube channel, which eventually blew up and has nearly 100,000 followers now.
Now, I liked this guy, don’t get me wrong. He was a model expat in some ways. Productive, enterprising, intelligent, and contributing back to his adoptive country. However, his wife and a friend posted a video where they announced his passing, and then proceeded to ask for donations to a PayPal link for help during this tough time. This guy was not totally broke. He was living off SS and YouTube revenue. But now with him gone his wife is a single mom and will likely have to move back in with her parents. She has no financial support. They intend to probably keep his channel going, but YouTube channels die quick deaths if you don’t post regularly, and even “successful” channels don’t all make a lot of money. This poor woman is only in her late 20s. She still has a long life ahead of her. Worst of all, this infant child will now grow up without ever knowing his father.
I’m sorry, but that is some bullshit. I don’t have a problem with age gaps in relationships. Even wide ones like this guy and his wife had. I don’t even care so much if these old farts are knocking these young women up. However, if you’re going to do that, you’d better have plenty of resources to leave behind if/when you die, so that, you know, you don’t leave your wife and offspring in dire fucking straits.
Obviously this old guy was going to die way before his young wife. It’s great that he met someone and fell in love and had a kid. But you have to take into account the problems you’re creating when you leave your family nothing. The Philippines, and South East Asia in general, is filled with impoverished single moms who got either got ditched by expats, or the expat up and died. Many old men go over there and find relationships with younger women. That’s all fine. But let’s not pretend that these women are not naive about the risks. Many of them just want to have a White baby with a foreigner. They don’t care or are not aware of how screwed they can get.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy old guys are able to make a go of the expat life over there. I’m happy these old guys are able to restart their lives. But let’s not pretend the West is “sending its best” over there. Most of these guys are broke losers who wouldn’t get a glance from women their own age back home. Most of these guys are barely getting by on pensions or SS. Many of the Filipinas over there don’t realize that, of course. They just see a Western guy and think that’s their ticket to security. Or they see a White guy and want their shot at a mixed-race baby with White genes. I’ve visited the Philippines before myself. Fuck how these YouTubers glamorize that tropical country, people are desperate as hell over there.
I grew up without ever knowing my real father. There isn’t a day that goes by where it doesn’t hurt that I lost that opportunity. While I’ve since connected with my dad, who’s still alive and active, this expat guy’s son will never have that chance. I think it’s very foolish and irresponsible to leave your wife and kids in that situation like this expat guy did. But he’s not the only one. There’ are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of old dudes doing the same thing, and leaving these women and children behind in the same conditions, if not worse.
I’m not saying you’ve got to be a multi-millionaire if you’re a geriatric with plans for having a late family. But you’d better have enough so your wife isn’t going on the internet with a virtual change cup and asking internet strangers for alms for the poor. What the hell kind of a legacy is that to leave behind?
Bitcoin has been kind to me this year. Especially the last few months. It may not get me to early retirement this cycle, unless some of the uber moon boys are right about it hitting $250K-$400K next year. But it has made me a lot more comfortable than I was a year ago.
Like many, I first heard about Bitcoin back in 2017 during the peak of its bull run. I admit I really had no idea what it even was. I likened it to website credits or tokens you might win playing an online RPG like World of Warcraft.
I didn’t think about Bitcoin again for a few years until 2020 after the Covid crash. I bought my first in September, right when it was around $10K. I made regular buys thereafter before sinking in a sizable amount almost a year later following its initial peak in March, 2021. I saw my investment nearly double in a matter of months, before plummeting down hard the following year.
It was wrenching to watch my investment sink by almost 75%. But having watched Bitcoin rise and fall twice before in ’17 and ’21, there accompanied my dismay a slight reassurance in the fickle decentralized digital currency. I kept stacking sats, HODLed and hoped, until eventually it climbed back to even early last year. This last run-up has finally put it into the six-figure zone at $100,000. A momentous achievement.
Is Bitcoin going to climb higher and higher into next year? Or will there be another calamitous crash? Who knows. There are many positive signs lining up for the currency. The incoming Trump Administration is very crypto-friendly. Trump has expressed interest in starting a national strategic Bitcoin reserve, which may prompt other countries to do the same. Michael Saylor, the CEO of MicroStrategy, continues to buy Bitcoin by the billions with his stock sale scheme. Wall Street has opened up numerous ETFs for Bitcoin, which have seen billions of inflows. China has dropped its opposition to it. The digital asset has certainly gone mainstream. While it hits road blocks here and there — MicroSoft shareholders just rejected putting it on their balance sheet Saylor-style, for instance — for the most part it just keeps bouldering ahead.
Will it one day be worth $13 million a coin? Or even a million a coin? I have no idea. I don’t do predictions, projections, or prognostications. Bitcoin attracts far too many Punxsutawney Phils who see price targets in their shadows. But fundamentally, if there are more and bigger buyers over time, the asset should see a gradual rise in value. Here’s a simple thought experiment. As of now, MicroStrategy owns almost 2% of all Bitcoin that will ever exist. If the U.S. acquires 1 million Bitcoin as is intended for the proposed strategic reserve, that would mean a 5% stake. That’s 7% between just two entities. If other countries and major corporations follow suit, that will place enormous buying pressure on an asset with a fixed supply. What happens then? Number go up, of course.
I do believe in Bitcoin long-term as a tool to counter centralized banking and its widepsread currency debasement and inflation. I’m not a Bitcoin trader. I have no plans to sell my holdings, unless I’m moving the proceeds into another investment or an asset of some kind. But unlike before, when my buys were largely random or inconsistent, I want to set up a DCA system. Therein lies a problem, as many exchanges charge exorbitant fees. I’ve been with Coinbase since 2020, but their charges are excessive.
Recently, a finance Youtuber named Marko — Whiteboard Finance informed me about River in one of his videos. River is a Bitcoin-only exchange that allows you to set up recurring buys for no fee after a week.
(NOTE: I’m not affiliated with River. This is simply my own experiment. I’m not even going to provide a link to the exchange, but it is easy enough to Google. Also, do your own research on Bitcoin and crypto and whatever else you want to invest in with your own money).
Here’s my simple plan:
Starting this month and going forward next year, I’m going to DCA $20 into Bitcoin every day through the end of 2025.
Twenty bucks every day. That’s $7,300 in total over the next 365 days.
River also currently pays 3.8% in BTC on cash deposits you make on the exchange. Since I’ll be dropping a good bit of that $7,300 up front, I should also see gains from that annual rate as well.
I already made my first buy yesterday, Dec. 12th. So, one day down, 364 to go.
Hey, wait! Why not just smash buy Bitcoin with that money right now?
Well, I plan to buy chunks of Bitcoin in addition to this daily DCA over the next year and beyond. But part of why I’m setting up this experiment is to take the hand-wringing and guess work out of when to buy Bitcoin. I struggle with paralysis-by-analysis a lot when it comes to making investment decisions. Well, with most decisions in life, if I’m being honest. Mostly that comes from fear. Fear of losing money. Fear of uncertainty. But also fear of missing out (FOMO). So, this DCA strategy with River is a happy medium. It’s a sizable enough purchase over a year to make a difference. But it’s not so much where I won’t have reserve funds to make bigger purchases when I feel it’s warranted.
I’ll be providing updates over the next year, perhaps monthly, on my 2025 Bitcoin Experiment. We’ll see how it goes.
If you ask me, the entire banking industry has still not recovered its reputation from the 2008 Wall Street crash.
You know, the crash that nearly brought the global economy to its knees. The crash they made that movie about where Margot Robbie explains mortgage backed securities in a bubble bath. The crash that saw millions laid off, small businesses destroyed, while the U.S. government rushed to save precious giant institutions that were “too big to fail.”
You know, that crash.
Has the banking industry EVER had a reputation that wasn’t ranked somewhere between a sewer rat and rattlesnake? That’s hard to say.
Anyway, a few months ago I wrote an article about how my stupid bank wants to charge me $15 to use my own money. Check it out here.
Basically, my bank changed their policy starting November of this year. In order to avoid a monthly service fee of $15, you must maintain a monthly average account balance of $5,000.
Prior to this policy change, it was pretty easy to avoid a monthly fee. As little as one monthly direct deposit of $200 or more was enough to prevent a tiny haircut worth a Lincoln and a Hamilton, plus a few other flexible options.
Obviously, the Federal Reserve has lowered rates recently, thus changing the financial landscape. Banks have to adapt to interest rate fluctuations, and many do by adjusting their rates. Fair enough. Business is business.
Anyway, after I received the email about the policy change, I made sure to move $5,000 into my checking account well before the deadline. The policy took effect November 1st. I moved my money over October 3rd. Plenty of time.
All’s good, says I, initiating the transfer with a few easy clicks. I was slightly annoyed by having to keep $5,000 in my checking, especially when it offers a slightly lower rate than my premium savings account (by about a percent or so). But whatever, first world problems and such, you know?
Then a week or so ago, right as my overseas vacation was winding down, I log onto my bank. And what do I find?
They’d charged me $15 anyway.
:::sad slide whistle:::
WTF? I carefully scrolled down the entire month. Had I accidentally dipped below the $5,000 average? Nope. Not one day did my account go below the big 5–0. In fact, my account fluctuated between $5K-$8K all month due to direct deposits, transfers, and such.
Of course, I immediately messaged customer servicce about this oversight. A task made impossible the first morning I tried due to their not being any “available agents.” My bank is one of the biggest brokerages in the world. They can’t afford an army of customer service warriors? Fine, whatever.
I tried later that night, and was finally able to get through. I expressed the problem. After some investigating, the agent came to the conclusion that yes, I had been accidentally charged.
But why, I ask? How did that happen? Is there another policy I’m unaware of that I transgressed? Did I miss something? What can I do to help ensure I don’t get charged again?
Their response? Absolutely no explanation. It was apparently a pure phenonomen that I was charged $15 erroneously. Like the Phoenix lights. Or the Bloop. Or the “Wow!” signal.
Hmmm, perhaps magic is real afterall. Perhaps an evil troll or gremlin snuck past my bank’s digital firewall and pilfered that $15 to buy magic beans to grow a beanstalk to the giant’s castle. It sure is a mystery.
However, the agent assured me that she “shared my frustration.” Well, thanks. I’m glad we’re all in this together. Just you, me, and a giant banking institution worth hundreds of billions. Yep, we’re arm in arm here, totally.
Long story short, my bank DID refund me the money. That fifteen dollars is now safely back in my hands, where it belongs.
Fifteen bucks is not a lot of money. In fact, I made almost as much as that in interest just in my checking account for November.
But that’s not the point. The point is to watch your bank carefully and anyone who manages or holds your money.
You know, not long ago Wells Fargo (aka Shithead, Inc.) got caught making fake accounts without customer approval, resulting in it having to pay $3 billion in damages. Almost every week I’m reading about some new scandal some bank somewhere committed.
Let’s not forget about FTX and Celsius. Let’s not forget about the millions of people who saw their savings wiped out after the 1929 stock market crash. Let’s not forget about the Cyprus banking crisis in 2012. On and on.
People, you have to watch these banks and other financial institutions like a hawk. You have to be ever vigilant. You can’t just trust them to do the right thing. They don’t know what the “right thing” is. They didn’t even know that they had taken my money without proper cause.
Think about that. Imagine if I stole $15 out of your wallet, and when you went to confront me my excuse was “I didn’t know I took it.” And then when you went to the cops to report me the cops do nothing. That’s basically the arrangement we have with these enormous banks. We trust them to guard our money. But they’re really just looking out for themselves.
Be careful with your money. Watch your bank. Especially nowadays. Things may be “okay” for now economically. But that can change in a hurry. Times can become tough. And when times get tough, institutions can be become dangerous, wreckless, and even more dishonest than usual.
You pay far greater in time, money, stress, health, and inconvenience than whatever you get for “expanding your horizons.”
Made with Midjourney
Once a year or so I have this fight with the lizard part of my brain that inexplicably wants to go places for some reason.
“Dude bro, you never go anywhere.”
(My lizard brain, Dude Bro Guy, is a guy in cool shades wearing a Hawaiian shirt with his hat on backwards).
Me: Yeah, that’s because I hate spending money, hate flying, hate airports, hate staying in hotels, hate eating out at restaurants, and am annoyed by/hate most people.
“But dude bro, you gotta get out and see the world, man.”
Me: Literally everything about traveling is my definition of hell.
“The world, dude bro. The woooorld.”
This year Dude Bro Guy won out, and I visited Thailand on a tour, as well as a brief stopover in Manila, Philippines, which turned out to be a complete disaster. More on that later.
I’d been wanting to visit Asia for a long time. Well, I’d been wanting to get overseas period for the longest time, too. The last time I left America was 2001 when I went to Israel, not counting an afternoon in Tijuana, Mexico. (By the way, don’t visit Tijuana, Mexico, it’s a depressing shithole.) That was back when there were regular suicide bombings in Israel. It was also one month before 9/11. I was just coming out of the Southern Baptist Church cult which I’d grew up in, and wanted to check out all the hot spots I’d read about in the Bible. I was a real Christian groupie back then, and so seeing the Sea of Galilee, the Dead Sea, The Wailing Wall, and all the churches and temples — well, the equivalent was like a Beatles fanatic visiting Abbey Road or Liverpool.
Fast forward 23 years and I felt way overdue for a visit to someplace not under U.S. jurisdiction. I follow a lot of expats on YouTube based out of the Philippines and Thailand, and a part of me wanted to check out Southeast Asia just to see what it was all about. My job offers a generous work schedule and time off. I secured nearly three weeks off, using almost two weeks for the trip itself.
I booked a tour through a site called, appropriately enough, Tour Radar. It’s basically a giant listing site of numerous oufits offering tours to just about any developed place in the world. Except Russia. Which sucks, because I’d really like to go there at some point.
I signed up for a nine day tour that took me through Bangkok, Chiang Mai, ending in Phuket. I saw the White Temple, the Blue Temple, the Black House, an elephant sanctuary, the Kayan people aka the Long Neck Karen Village where the women wear rings that stretch their necks, a few awesome waterfalls, and a cool place in Phuket called Lion Land where you can actually pet lions. Of course, I made sure to take some long walks through each place, giving myself a personal tour.
Photo by author.
The tour fee was just under $2,000 for just myself. I notice on Tour Radar that a lot of the trips are more expensive if you go by yourself than with a partner or as a group. So, look out for that if you decide to book on there. With the flight costs, some additional hotels, souvenirs, meals, and odds and ends, the total cost was around $5,500 for my two-week vacation. A steep price for a little horizon expanding, for sure.
Included in this mega vacation was a stop in Las Vegas for two days en route to LAX before flying over the Pacific. I visited the Philippines on my own without any tour guide, so that added onto the cost. I went on 11 flights, which let me tell you, is grueling as hell. Though I really enjoyed seeing some of the Asian airports. Especially Hong Kong’s. That airport is an immaculate cathedral. It’s quiet, clean, and little old Chinese ladies hold up signs to help guide you on your path when you get off the tram. It’s the complete opposite of virtually every American airport, which are mainly loud, dirty, filled with savage children, punks running amok, and mean-mugging TSA goons snarling at you for not moving at light speed through their little safety kingdoms. Incheon Airport in Seoul, South Korea is pretty superb, too.
So, was it all worth it?
Well, Lion Land certainly was. The big cat sanctuary offers multiple feline options for visitors. You can play with cubs, see the medium-sized lion, the big lion, or the white lion. I went with the big one because why not. I felt mild terror getting in the cage with the lion. Especially when I saw the trainers only had little wooden sticks for “security.” They only use the sticks to make snapping noises as cues for the lion to behave how they want. So if the lion were to decide he’s going feral that day, it’s not like there’s anything they can do to stop him. But the lions at Lion Land are all well fed and socialized to be as tame as any wild animal can be. I even got to feed the big lion a meat kabob. I quickly got over my fear (somewhat), even laying on the lion’s back at the trainer’s prodding. In the picture below I’m holding my hand over my heart. Yeah, that was to keep it from beating out of my chest. If you’re ever in Phuket, I do recommend checking out Lion Land.
Photo by author.
I enjoyed the rest of the sights in Bangkok and Chiang Mai. I’m not religious, so seeing the many Buddhist temples was not particularly awe-inspiring apart from the impressive feats of architecture and the artisty of the statues. Many people took pictures of themselves kneeling and praying at the Buddha statues. I’m not into prostration or overt acts of worship, so that didn’t appeal to me at all. I liked going on hikes through nature and seeing waterfalls. There are a number of elephant sanctuaries outside Chiang Mai you can visit. You can feed, walk with, and hang out with the elephants in the jungle. You can also bathe them, which I did not do. I’m not getting into water where giant animals relieve themselves. The elephants are tame, though they will accidentally nudge you out of their way if you’re not careful while walking on the path with them.
As for the rest of Thailand? Obviously, the country is famous for its party scene and red light districts. I drink very rarely, so I don’t frequent bars. I’m not into the red light scene, not the least of which is I really don’t care to catch an STD. I donate blood regularly to the Red Cross and would like to keep doing that until I’m old.
There are numerous massage parlors all over Thailand. And I do mean numerous. They are to Thailand what Starbucks is in America. Literally on every corner. I probably went to a dozen while I was there. Cost of living is insanely cheap in Thailand, as many people know. A one hour massage costs about 300–400 Baht, or about $8-$12 USD. Here in America I pay about $80, so I made sure to take advantage. And no, in case you’re wondering, these were not “happy ending” massage parlors. Such places do exist, but they’re usually not on the main roads where most of the tourists stay.
The food is cheap, too, and pretty good for the most part. I avoided eating from any food trucks while I was there, sticking mainly to restaurants. If you’re ever in Chiang Mai, I recommend a place called the Gecko Restaurant. I had a decent salmon dinner there for about $9 that would have cost about three times that in America.
Everything on that board costs less than $7.52 USD. Photo by author.
I’m not a fan of tropical environments, and obviously Thailand is hot and humid. Temperatures ranged in the 90s for most of my trip. It only rained briefly while I was in Phuket. My hotels were mainly resorts and top notch, relatively-speaking. It’s easy and cheap to get around. There are taxis, or you can use the rideshare app Grab. Transportation had been a big concern for me that kept me from visiting previously, so I was relieved to see Thailand has its own Uber-like app. You won’t have trouble going places on your own if you want.
Also, the internet was remarkably reliable almost everywhere I went. I used the international plan with Verizon and except for when I was in the deepest parts of the jungle I had a decent connection with video, social media, and everything.
Do beware of the mosquitos, which are ferocious, and seem immune to bug spray. I practically bathed myself in it during my hikes, only to still come back covered in massive bug bites. Mosquitos in parts of Thailand can spread things like dengue fever, Zika, and other diseases. I checked with the Red Cross before I left on whether a visit to Thailand automatically rules you out from donating blood for a period. It doesn’t exactly. It depends on certain locations. There are parts of the country that are red zones. I won’t be able to donate anytime soon anyway due to my sickness, but it’s something to keep in mind if you visit.
Overall, I enjoyed Thailand. However, you do not need to pay for a tour company like I did. In fact, I really think the $2,000 I paid was a waste. You can reserve your own hotels online. At many hotels there are kiosk tables set up where you can book all kinds of activities. Then the next day a van comes to pick you up and take you and whoever else signed up wherever. Thailand is very tourist-friendly, so they make it very easy to do stuff over there.
I would also say that if you’re planning on going, probably just stick with Phuket. That island has everything the mainland has, including temples and elephants. Stay at one hotel and just take day trips to wherever. You can get from one side of the island to the other in about half an hour. There are also activity kiosks everywhere. If I ever go back to Thailand, I’ll probably just fly directly to Phuket and set my own itinerary. Flights from LAX to Phuket are sometimes decent ($800-$1000 for coach), so a vacation there is not unreasonable. Just be sure to take into account the time change. Flights out of LAX for Asia often leave late at night, which means you sometimes arrive two days later at your destination (Thailand is twelve hours ahead of the U.S.). Be prepared for some serious jet lag.
After Thailand, I decided to check out Manila, Philippines. I did this to take advantage of the cheap flights from Thailand to Manila. One way tickets go for around $200 or so. However, going to the Philippines turned out to be a mistake as I got food poisoning the very first night and was laid up sick for my entire brief stay. Don’t ever eat at a place called The Filling Station in Makati. It’s an Americana-style diner that looks like Jack Rabbit Slim’s from Pulp Fiction. I had a burger and a milkshake there that left me feeling like Mia Wallace after she snorted Vincent’s heroin thinking it was coke.
This was right before Thanksgiving, too. I was sick the Tuesday and Wesnesday. Then on Thursday I felt well enough to try eating again. I opted for KFC, as the chicken outfit is big over there in Asia. I ordered a bucket, only to find that food disgusting also. I managed half a leg before tossing the whole thing out. So I went 0 for 2 on meals that didn’t taste like shit on a stick. That was my Thanksgiving “dinner.”
As an aside, how is KFC able to stay in business? They’re seriously terrible. KFC tastes like soggy wet rags soaked in grease. KFC sucks ass in the Philippines, too. Just unbelievable that a company can put out such a shitty product and not only stay in business but thrive.
Since I watch a lot of expats talking about how great the Philippines is, I was really looking forward to checking the country out. So, I’m sorry to report that pretty much everything I saw there disgusted me. Aside from the food poisoning, there were prostitutes hanging out on the street harassing me everytime I stepped out of my hotel. I should mention, too, that sex workers in SEA can be aggressive. I went down the wrong street in Phuket one night and one grabbed me and wouldn’t let go until I pried her arms off my body. The ones in Manila are just as aggressive. They’ll follow you around asking if you want a “massage” and whatnot. It’s all a ploy to get you inside where they’ll either rob you or give you a “massage” for a price. They’re so bad that there are even signs posted on business windows warning about the “massage scam.” All the while the police stand around and do nothing. A trangender prostitute got in my face and wouldn’t leave me alone until I ran off. It’s so bizarre seeing sex work thrown at you so blatantly in the middle of a major city. It’s like something you’d see in a dystopian ’80s movie. The hotel I stayed in smelled like a gym locker crossed with a ratty bodega. The streets were crowded, polluted, and loud. Traffic was completely out of control. There were homeless everywhere. Creepy dudes kept coming up to me trying to sell Cialis and Viagara pills. Local TV sucks. The only thing I found worth watching was HBO. It was a mess. On top of it, I was sick the whole time. So, the Phillippines was a rotten time. I may give it another shot at some point, but we’ll see.
I will say this. My trip to SEA, and my first international trip in 23 years, only confirms what I knew all along — traveling is fucking overrated. You pay far greater in time, money, health, and inconvenience than whatever you get out of the experience. I’m still sick from my visit to the diner from hell. I’m not saying I’ll never visit another country again. But the optimum time to travel abroad is when you’re young and the world is still all sunshine and rainbows. Especially if you can travel in a friend group, like from college or something. The only other way to travel is if you’re super rich and can stay in all the best places and fly in a higher class. Sitting in coach on a 14-hour flight is a goddamn nightmare. Any other way and traveling is mainly just a waste of time and a big pain in the ass.
All of a week into my trip, even before I got sick, I honestly found myself just wanting to go home. I was relieved and happy to be back in the United States. After having seen SEA for myself, I don’t understand these passport bros on YouTube who are all bouncing off the walls with joy just being over there. Yes, the cost of living is cheaper. But you get what you pay for. These are developing countries with poor infrastructure. The tropical climate is oppressive. You have the rainy season. Pollution and poverty are widespread. Real poverty, by the way. Not American “poverty” where people still have four walls that are enclosed, flat screen TVs, iPhones, and access to various resources.
On my taxi ride into Bangkok, I saw shanties literally built on top of trash-strewn rivers underneath and between the highways. People live in one-room apartments that lead out into alleyways, and make a living with a food truck or by selling trinkets. I saw elderly women sleeping right out on the sidewalk. I get that passport bros and retirees are taking advantage of geographic arbitrage by living in a cheaper area. But in reality all their crowing about “living in paradise” is cope. They are mainly brokies slumming around. And it’s honestly sad to see the level of deprivation there.
Yes, the women are far more welcoming. I started a Tinder account on my way to the Philippines to experiment, and sure enough, I instantly got a lot of legit likes and messages. Had I not gotten sick I would have lined up a few dates easily. But there again, the culture over there is very different. Most of the women are only into foreign guys because they want to date a rich Westerner. Not because they are just so filled with love.
I’m glad to be back home. I’m done with traveling for now. That’s not to say Dude Bro Guy won’t convince me to venture out again. I still haven’t seen the sights in Europe. Maybe that’ll be next year.
Dean Brooks 