COFFEE WITH SATAN: THE MEANING OF XMAS ACCORDING TO THE DEVIL

Satan and I had skirted on the subject before, but never in great detail and I saw Christmas 2012 as an opportunity to set some records straight.  We met at the Starbucks in Santa Maria on Main Street yesterday afternoon, the 22nd of December.

N: So, the world did not end.  We're still here.

S: As I said.  End of the world fears go back a long, long time.  People really have a kind of erotic fervor for the end of the days.  It's romantic.  And it always works in creating havoc and so on.  But I admit, this particular time, it wasn't as big as I thought it would be.  The world has become cynical.

N: Thanks to you.

S: You're welcome.  And in some ways, people don't believe what they see as much as they used to.  There's a lot of mistrust about the media.  But we'll adapt to that.

N: Okay, so let's talk about Christmas.

S: Fire away.

N: You claim that you invented Christmas.






S: Let's be clear about a couple things and then you'll understand my genius even more.

N: Sure.

S: The thing about celebrating with loved ones at the end of the year, that's been around since the beginning.  It's one of the oldest habits known to man.  Way, way before The Bible was written.  So, there's that.

N: And that was not called Christmas.

S: A lot of things, but not Christmas.  "Saturnalia" was one name.  The pagans had a particularly deep love of this holiday.

N: Okay.

S: I basically took a pre-existing habit and turned it into something evil.

N: Which is your bread and butter.  Taking something good and converting it into evil.

S: I recycle like everyone else.  A great example is of course, bottled water. I took one of your greatest natural resources and packaged it in petroleum encasing and now its a 4 billion dollar a year business.  With Christmas, I took the most generous time of the year and turned it into the birthday of a God.

N: Jesus Christ.

S: Look, J.C. even credits me on this.  He said, good one.    As I said before, J.C. was born on September 27th.

N: So, what did you envision with Christmas.





S: I wanted to turn the most generous time of the year into the most stressful, difficult, hellish time of the year and I think I've achieved that.  Americans will spend on average $650 every year on Christmas.  Generally to buy things no one cares about.  Stuff that will get thrown away and live in the oceans.  In the name of J.C.  And businesses are completely dependent on it.  If you took Christmas away, the world would end.

N: And this is hard wired into our DNA anyway.  This feeling of generosity.

S: Yes, you can't help it.  Every society has a version of it, if not Christmas.  Jews have Hannukka.  Whatever.  It's all good.  You can't escape Christmas.  Santa Claus.

N: Your invention?

S: Oh yeah.  Santa was one of my greatest inventions.  And you notice Santa has nothing to do with J.C.  He's not in The Bible anywhere.  There's no book of Santa Claus.  He's a drunk, fat guy.

N: I always thought that idea of someone trespassing into your house and leaving you presents because they were aware of your behavior for the year was weird.

S: Because it is fucking weird!

N: So, why did you make him fat and drunk?

S: To promote eating and drinking as much as humanly possible.  I'm not happy until people are having strokes and their stomachs are falling apart or they get diabetes or some other fucked up shit.

N: People actually feel compelled to eat more because Santa is fat?

S: Bro, he's a role model.  He's a spokesman.  You look up to him whether you like or not.  That's the first thing they tell you when you're little.  Santa is coming to town and so on.  Fat guy knows if you've been naughty or nice.  He can be anywhere.  He brings children toys and other objects of desire.  They say you have to be good, but let's be honest here.  Good and bad kids receive gifts. And everybody knows it.  So, in your mind, you're getting an object of desire no matter what and you feel jilted if you don't.

N: Sounds like "materialism"?

S:  Bingo.  It was materialism at its inception.  We knew it would take a lot of generations before that desire for toys got buried in your DNA.  Amazing that I made him bright red and still no one ever made the connection.   Imagine Jesus coming off the fucking cross, going through your chimney, bleeding all over you living room, delivering you a present -

N: Right, no one would eat anything.

S: Yeah, people would be like Ghandi and fast - it would be a nightmare.  Okay, if I have to go soon, fire away one last one.

N: Last minute Christmas shopping.

S: You know me, dude.  Buy, buy, buy.

N: What's your favorite part of Christmas?

S: It was the door that opened the Christianity epidemic.  I managed to turn a concept of generosity and kindness...

N: That being Christianity?

S: Yes, don't laugh.  That's what it was, originally.  But I managed to turn that concept of kidness and loving thy neighbor and what not into into the most genocidal bullies this world has ever known.  And Christmas was the key.  That makes my egg nog taste really good.

N: I know you already told me but tell me again for the readers who didn't read the conversation.

S: I can tell you a thousand times, bro.  I'll never get bored.  Emperor Constantine tried hard to make Christianity the official religion.  But he could not bend the Pagans to his will.  Took everything away from Pagan worshipping.  So, I came up with the idea that they keep their holiday but worship - you know - someone else.  And they accepted it.  Instead of worshipping all that Earthly shit on December 25th, you worship baby Jesus!  I'm lovin' that.





N: So, not only are you not worshipping Pagan God...

S: You're not worshipping Jesus either, because he wasn't born that day.  He was born three fucking months ago!  Man, I'm good.

N: So, Christmas is the inception of a mass genocidal concept, materialism and horrible eating habits.

S:  As I said, one of my greatest ideas.

N: Why do you like Thanksgiving more then?

S: Because it's more transparent.  You can connect the dots very easily.  Christmas has more smoke screens.  You can understand why humans have been manipulated.  Thanksgiving is amazing, in the sense that people celebrate it so outrightly.  It's proof that your people are evil at heart.  That they would party on such a fucked up event.  Anyway, really must get going.  You want an egg nog.

N: It's digusting here.  Everything tastes worse everytime I come here.

S: Thanks bro.  I appreciate that.  I really do.  Merry Christmas.

BVD + BLACK SOCK

Copyright Friday the 13^th, 2009

His name was BVD.  He was made out of cotton.  He was white.  Well, he was once white.  Now, he was more beige-like. 

Let’s face it, BVD was an underwear.

He only worked once every couple weeks.  He had to support a pair of hairy balls and a curvy stick.  For an entire day, he provided these hairy balls and curvy stick with support, prevent all of them from swelling up and turning two or three times its size. 

BVD had a tough job.  But he was very good at this.  Securing these balls and stick.  Keeping them secure for the entire day.  No matter how many times these things bounced and sweated and smelled, BVD did the job.  Secured these three things.

But BVD was getting old, securing these balls and stick for a long period of time took a toll on BVD.  Parts of him were ripping apart.  His body was not handling the handling of the balls and stick as well as he once had. 

It was especially difficult on BVD when he was thrown in a giant cauldron of hot, foamy, tidal wave water, a necessity to restore BVD into a clean state for further ball handling.

This violent excursion is what wore on BVD.  It made him feel like he was being swallowed into a mouth of fire...

Regardless, this was his favorite time of the month.

Although they were stored in the same buckets, he did not see her until one of these times.

He remembered it like was yesterday.

Him.  BVD.  Crashing, smashing, collapsing into other underwears, shirts, scarves. 

Entangling into garments he never cared for. Drowning in lava-like water.  Another day of physical devastation. 

He especially hated the scarf.  The scarf didn’t like him much either.

“Will you get off me!”, he yelled at the too-long, tentacly, useless garment.

“Why don’t you detach yourself from me,” insisted the scarf.

But BVD was stuck.  Once you were against the scarf, you were stuck against him for a long period.  Unless you could latch on to an oncoming garment large enough to rip yourself away. 

But there was nothing like that spinning his direction.  He could be attached to this distasteful being for the entire boiling, body-ripping cycle.

“Alas, I am stuck on you”, announced BVD.

“I too am disgusted.  I shan’t enjoy the remainder of this cycle, dear boy,” retorted the scarf.

The scarf’s accent was an unfriendly sound that only made close proximity a more grading experience than it had to be. 

“It is you who is harassing my existence, dear boy, it is...”

And just like so, BVD was free of the scarf, watching the scarf’s sinewy body swim away like a giant, headless squid. 

BVD had no idea how he had detached himself from the scarf.  When he noticed the black spot.  Which he followed and realized was a black sock.  She did not resemble a sock at this time, more like a black ball.  She had grown heavier in this moist atmosphere, as socks typically do.

But she was very small and weighty enough to pry him away from the scarf.

“That scarf is a jerk”, she announced foppishly.

“Yes,” replied BVD, uncertain what else to say about this scarf, or in regards to the interaction they were currently exchanging.

And then, ”thank you for prying me away from this scarf”.

“I understand what it’s like, that scarf bites,” the black sock said as they spun around in twisted boiling water, hanging on to each other to prevent being attached to anything else, something perhaps worse than the scarf.

It had dawned on BVD later, after returning to the clean, whiter state, that the black sock had wanted to be attached to him.  Perhaps she liked him.  It never occurred to him that a sock could like an underwear.  Especially a black one liking a white one.

And the next month, instead of dreading the boiling typhoon waters, he looked forward it. 

The ripping, twisting, pummeling of his underwear body.  The tear jerking pain.  The spine crushing concussions.  BVD anticipated this horror with a newfound joy he never thought could possess him.

During the next wash, he crashed into a pair of jeans, the dreaded zipper of the jeans which knocked him out into complete blackness, then a monstrous hooded sweatshirt which smelled like death itself enveloping him, suffocating his being like a liquid coffin.

When he came out of this, he realized the black sock was once again attached to him.

“Those hooded sweatshirts are such a nightmare”, she said.

“Yes,” replied BVD, so physically decimated he saw three black socks even though she was just one. 

And they rode the rest of this twisting, hellish ordeal together again.

And then this became a habit for BVD and the black sock of his dreams.  BVD was overjoyed with her company.  Her smell.  Her texture.  Her every black sockness. 

“I detest that corduroy pants,” she said,” that corduroy material makes me feel gross all over”.

He agreed.  The black sock spoke his thoughts.  Uttered his opinions in purest, poetic forms.  Just like the black sock itself. 

And as years went by, they always found a way to ride the shockwave of extreme heat, volcano-eske atmosphere and neck pounding water punches.  While every other garment screamed, shrieked, cried in tortured cries, BVD was overjoyed with his togetherness with that black sock, the perfect garment, the perfect materials, colors, textures, form, shape.

And when his body started to break down, and BVD was no longer what he once was, he still found a way to make it into the deadly cauldron.

“You can’t keep coming in here, BVD,” the black sock said.

“I want to,” BVD insisted.

“You will die if you keep coming in here.  As your underwear body can no longer handle it.”

But BVD kept returning, even when he wasn’t due for a wash, as his body could no longer sustain the ball and curvy stick duties that was once entrusted upon him.

His body was filled with holes.  Ripping apart like a piece of unpresentable deli meat.  He had faced the cauldron too many times and was a couple washes from being ripped into several, if not a dozen pieces of himself, and thus would become useless and face complete extinction.

“You can’t keep coming here, BVD,” the black sock said.  Somehow, she had faced very little damage to her being.  Her blackness hid any flaws.  Her littleness limited how much damage you could see from her age.  She aged very well and could live on much longer than he, the white, shredded, barely functioning BVD underwear.

“I can’t imagine life without you, black sock”,” BVD said.

“Don’t be silly, you can hide below the other garments and lead a simple life, avoid further washings and lead a relaxed life like other overused underwears.  I’ve seen it and I insist that is what you do”.

BVD took her advice and lived under the radar.  When it was time for a wash, BVD managed to stay below other garments, hide comfortably with the other underwears and socks.

And he was in the company of other torn underwears, socks riddled with holes, shirts that were so thin, you could see right through them.  His body had taken severe beatings over these years.  And the only good thing he could recall was being in that boiling cauldron with the black sock and listening to her speak his thoughts.

“That scarf is a jerk”, he recalled her saying.

“Corduroy garments are all assholes,” he remembered pleasingly.

“Hooded sweatshirts have such big egos because they’re always being used, but have you ever seen a hooded sweatshirt no longer in use.  That’s fucking sad”.

As a matter of fact, BVD was staring plainly at one right now.  He was old.  Shredded.  The hood barely attached to his sweatshirt body.  Pieces hanging off him, falling off him like a dark cloud raining cotton balls and other types of stuffings.  Shit, you wanted to put a bullet right through this hooded sweatshirt.

“I loved that scarf”, you could barely him say. 

“You mean, that long, sinewy, squid like creature?” Added BVD?

“Yes, that’s her, have you seen her?”

BVD didn’t want to say, but he thought that scarf had been a “he” and not a “she”.

“Yes, I have, Mr.Hooded Sweatshirt”, added BVD, coughing himself.  He was no longer a new underwear but an old one.

“She was beautiful, sinewy and always entangled herself on my hoodedness when I went in there”.

And BVD understood that his feelings also belonged to the old, beaten, rotten hooded sweatshirt’s.  And together they would commiserate about their lost loved ones for days, months...  cry, weep, recant the same stories about how the garments of their dreams entangled herself on his majestic hooded sweatshirtness or BVDness.

Until one day BVD finally announced, “I’m going back to see her.  I have to see my black sock”.

“You will die if you do”, insisted the hooded sweatshirt, his voice crackling, “and she is not your black sock”. 

“She is mine”, argued BVD, coughing, hacking.  He noticed the hooded sweatshirt looking thinner these days as less and less stuffings remained in his hooded sweatshirt being.  He no longer looked like clothes but like a layer of some exotic animal’s skin, drying up in the sun irrelevantly.

“I don’t care,” BVD claimed.

But when it came time to enter the cauldron, he was shaking, vibrating with fear, death almost certainly claiming his underwear body. 

And when the boiling lava-like water filled to the top of the cauldron, BVD coughed hysterically and when other garments leveled against him, he felt like he could no longer see, hear or think. 

He was becoming an underwear without thoughts.  Without sight.  Without sound.  Just a plain old piece of beige like substance that did not supports balls and stick anymore, and thus did nothing but await the end.

The underwear body shredding, riiiiipppping, losing limbs of its underwear self... and other garments watched in terror and shock at BVD’s declining, near-dead state.

“I told you not to come back,” she said.

He could barely see her, hanging onto him, or whatever was left.  He could not reply.  He could only barely smell the black sock.  A very distinct olfactory sensation.

“Look at you, BVD, you’re a mess.”  She said in tears.  “You look like shit.  Why did you come back?”

And just as she said that, BVD became something like a hundred pieces.  All of himself exploded like fireworks, attaching itself to every piece of garment in the cauldron.

The black sock had never seen anything like it.

“Stupid underwear.  You’re even dumber than other underwears,” she said in tears, capturing this moment to her black sock memory.

As BVD faded from life, he captured her last words for whatever fractions was left of his existence, locking the black sock form into his mind, her voice, her demeanor and that was everything he needed as he expired.  

33 STRATEGIES OF SPORTS: THE INTELLIGENCE STRATEGY

The days you get your ass kicked, it’s usually not because of the situation, the person or organization you are facing – it’s because of your lack of preparation and attention. If you’re humiliated in a job interview, it’s because you didn’t know enough about the company’s philosophy. If you’re on a date and suddenly become an asshole, it’s because you’re not paying enough attention to the person sitting opposite you. In either case, you have become trapped in your own narcissism.

The greatest weapon is never more money or manpower, it’s the ability to read the mind of the man or woman you are facing. If you can read minds, you can literally accomplish anything. This is what the government calls “intelligence”. They never send agents out without having “Intel” brief them on their mission – like in a 007 movie.

In sports, when a favored opponent loses to a weaker one, they call it an “upset”. And if you’re into sports, the bigger the upset, the more thrilling the experience (unless you were cheering for the team that lost). Because, there is nothing like a good ass kicking that mirrors real life more accurately. Welcome Back to “The 33 Strategies of Sports”, a concoction of Robert Greene’s “33 Strategies of War” and sports history.

THE MIRRORED ENEMY

On the night of February 9th, 2012, The Los Angeles Lakers, lead by the greatest player of his generation, Kobe Bryant, had just defeated their bitter rival, the Boston Celtics 88-87. The Lakers were weary from a disappointing 6 game road trip (they lost 3 of them already). But there was never a greater remedy than facing their next opponents, The New York Knicks – in the world’s most famous arena, Madison Square Garden, where they always cheered for Bryant, even though he played for the other team.

Bryant made a career of destroying the Knicks in MSG, the Mecca of basketball – and humiliating his hero, Coach Mike D’Antoni (who played in the Italian league where Bryant grew up. Kobe loved nothing more than to kill his heroes). There was no reason to think the most ferocious competitor in basketball wouldn’t deliver another blow (Kobe had soundly defeated the Knicks 99-82 in December) – Except for one small factor, the emergence of a point guard who was buried in the Knicks bench only a week before (and a week prior to that, played in the D League). His name was Jeremy Lin. This young guard had led the Knicks to four consecutive victories, averaging 28 pts and 8 assists. Bryant was so unfamiliar with Lin, he seemed to be asking the reporters questions after the Boston game: “I know who he is, but I don’t really know what’s going on too much with him. I don’t even know what he’s done. Like, I have no idea what you guys are talking about. I’ll take a look at it tonight though.”



The reporters, of course, didn’t stop there. They did not believe that Bryant had not scouted Lin, an opponent he would face 18 hours later. Kobe grew visibly irritated when a reporter reminded him that Lin had a good game against him the year before (as a Golden States Warrior), recording 4 steals. The fact that Lin was playing at a high level and was Asian had already created a small media storm. China had begun broadcasting Knicks games. Asians who never watched basketball in their lives were tuning in regularly. Despite only having four starts, Jeremy Lin’s rise had been labeled “Linsanity”. Fed up, Kobe went on a minor rant: “What the fuck is going on? Who is this kid? I’ve heard about him and stuff like that, but what’s he been doing? Is he getting like triple doubles or some shit? He’s averaging 28 and eight? No shit. If he’s playing well, I’ll just have to deal with him.” When one reporter suggested that Bryant would guard Lin, Kobe shrugged this off and muttered: “Jesus Christ, let’s not get ahead of ourselves”.



The next evening, Bryant and the Lakers entered a Madison Square Garden they had not seen in long time. The place was sold out. Celebrities (along with diehard fans, Spike Lee and Woody Allen) were court side. So was Ben Stiller, Dwayne Johnson, and guys from The New York Giants, who had just won the Superbowl. The MSG crowd was roaring “Go New York Go!” like they did in their glorious past – they were no longer cheering for Bryant. But the Kobe way saw it, they would soon enough. He fed on such energy. His killer instincts made him salivate. He could not wait to quiet this monster down and force the Mecca of basketball on its knees and cheer for him once more. After all, he usually did. Additionally, the Knicks were also missing their two best players, Amar’e Stoudemire and Carmelo Anthony. This Lin guy alone could not defeat Bryant, Pau Gasol, and Andrew Bynum, could he?



The game began slowly for the Lakers, as the team took a late flight from Boston the night before. Bryant witnessed first hand what this Jeremy Lin could do, attacking the Lakers by shooting 4-5 buckets, leading the Knicks to a 22-15 first quarter lead. The sinewy Asian guard did not look that threatening. He had a boyish body. He looked awkward, compared to his athletic teammates. His hair was messy, like he just woke up from a nap. His face even appeared lazy. But somehow, Jeremy Lin always got to the basket. Or made a pass that resulted in one. It was a big game, and the 6-3, 200 lb. guard was delivering. By halftime, Madison Square Garden become thunderous.



But the score was only 49-41. Five time champion, Kobe Bryant had come back from far worse. He had missed the majority of his shots, but he was just getting warmed up. The second half would inevitably belong to him – it always had. And Bryant was right. The Mighty Lakers began to wear down the smaller Knicks. With 9:25 left in the game, the Lakers had trimmed the lead to 3 and Kobe Bryant smelled blood. But Kobe also noticed something odd about the lazy-eyed faced guard, who’s name everyone in MSG was chanting, along side “M-V-P!”. Jeremy Lin did not back down. He just kept attacking. He had scored the most points in the game.

With the game on the line, Jeremy Lin fed shooting guard Iman Shumpert for a jumper and on the following possession, Shumpert blew past Bryant for a dunk that sent the crowd into a frenzy. With the lead at eight, Jeremy Lin delivered the final blow, nailing a three point shot to knock out the mighty Lakers.



Final score: Knicks, 92, Lakers, 85. The most telling stats were that of Kobe Bryant vs. Jeremy Lin’s. Kobe had 34 points, Jeremy Lin had 38. Kobe had not only been defeated but out dueled, rolling the red carpet to the guy he had brushed off like a fly only the night before. Madison Square Garden went off like a megaton bomb as the take down of Kobe Bryant went global, paving the way for a new star in the NBA. Now, very aware of who Jeremy Lin was, a humbled Bryant said: “I think it’s a great story… a testament to perseverance and hard work. Good example for kids everywhere.”

INTERPRETATION

Kobe Bryant, perhaps the most meticulous and prepared player in the game, likely scouted Jeremy Lin and perhaps was even aware of the young guard’s situation. Lin was a great high school player who had to make DVDs of his games and beg Division I Programs for a college scholarship – he would not get one. He was given a scholarship at Harvard instead, where the NBA rarely looks.

Lin went undrafted to the Golden State Warriors, only to be dropped, then signed by the Houston Rockets, where he was also dropped. Out of desperation, and job security, Mike D’Antoni signed Lin but would not play him (instead sending him to the D-League). When the Knicks had to decide whether or not to sign Lin to a guaranteed contract, they had no choice but to give him minutes to see if he could ply... and the rest is history. The Knicks was his last stand.




In other words, Kobe Bryant’s attempt to intimidate his opponent backfired, as the most dangerous kind of opponent you can face is the one with nothing to lose. As Robert Greene warns: “if you let narcissism act as a screen between you and other people, you will misread them and your strategies may misfire. Every individual is like an alien culture. You must get inside his or her way of thinking. Only by knowing your enemies, can you ever hope to vanquish them”.

KEYS TO ENGAGEMENT

As Pau Gasol said after the game,”I think that you can stop a player from not getting 38 points on you any night. I don’t care how good he is, but I guess we didn’t step up to the challenge as a team. We overlooked him.” The NBA and every professional sports organization prides itself an acquiring intelligence on other teams and players. The higher the level, the higher the gathering of intelligence. So much analysis goes into a player’s habits, likes, dislikes, strength, weaknesses. But yet Jeremy Lin was overlooked by the entire food chain of basketball.

As Jeremy Lin himself stated two years before: “I just think in order for someone to understand my game, they have to watch me more than once, because I’m not going to do anything that’s extra flashy or freakishly athletic.” In other words, part of Lin’s strength is his ability to be “unscoutable”. He does not look all that impressive, perhaps uncoordinated and clumsy, and as a result, the Lakers did not take Jeremy Lin seriously.

In truth, Kobe Bryant did study Jeremy Lin’s game, but likely not more than Jeremy Lin studied Kobe. Since Lin precisely attacked Kobe's greatest weakness, his pride, engaging Bryant into the shooting contest that would render his teammates useless. Lin knew Kobe would grow quickly impatient with his big men and try to defeat the Knicks on his own. Kobe Bryant, the greatest player of his generation, was sucked into a vortex, when getting Andrew Bynum more involved (Bynum only scored 3 points) would have given the Lakers a tremendously greater chance of victory.

Like Kobe Bryant, you are likely walking into a Jeremy Lin-type buzz saw yourself right now. There is likely a situation or a person you are dealing with you don’t know enough about. And the moment you begin to get your ass kicked, you will be shocked and awed, then whine about your bad luck – but the power to avoid this was at your fingertips all along. Avoid seeing what you want to see and stare at the facts, the history, how someone reacts under pressure, and pay close attention to the people that give enough of a shit about you tell you – or suffer the consequences.

The Knicks would ride a seven game winning streak, before finally experiencing defeat at the hands of the New Orleans Hornets, who collapsed on Lin with clever team defense and crowding the guard whenever he tried to penetrate. The Miami Heat frustrated Lin even more, constantly harassing him into making costly mistakes and forcing the worse game of his young career.

In the offseason, Lin was awarded a $29 million contract by the Houston Rockets.  Although Jeremy Lin will be an All-Star (since everyone in China will be voting for him), he has not duplicated the greatness of that magical week as New York Knick when he averaged 22 pts and 8 assists, as teams are now scouting him very seriously.  As Lin himself stated, "I'm not looking to re-create what happened in New York.  I want to be a consistent player. I want to get better. I don't know what my potential is. I don't know if I can play better than that one-week stretch. But I'm going to find out to see how close I can get."




Although Mike D'Antoni, his coach in New York that week, recently phrased it even better: “He’s not Linsanity... He’s a very good point guard in a tough league."

REVERSAL

Just as you analyze your opponent, realize that the same is likely being done to you. Constantly change your game to avoid being predictable – or feign Jeremy Lin-like “unscoutability”. And remember that your opponents are the same way. They’re not machines, but constantly mutating, adapting to what you are doing, learning from your successes and their mistakes. As Robert Greene warns, “your beaten opponent today may be wiser tomorrow”.