I’ve Got Your Secret...11 June 2007
Here’s how I know The Secret is bullshit.
Exhibit A — Friday night I was at the dojo and thinking to myself how great it was that I have been feeling so good and I’ve put all the nonsense from the beginning of the year behind me and that I can practice more and harder now and really get ready for this test I have coming up in August. So very, very positive. And then about forty-five minutes later I pulled the holy living fuck out of my left hamstring and I’ve been gimping around ever since and my practice schedule is going to be significantly curtailed because of it. Thanks, Secret.
Exhibit B — Honestly, all day I’ve been thinking how completely, positively awesome it would be if I lived in a flying castle and I had eleven billion dollars and I was drinking 40-year-old Scotch with a naked, cybernetically-enhanced (don’t ask how) Monica Bellucci while we defeated terrorism and cured AIDS. But instead I’m at work.
Exhibit C — Jessica Biel doesn’t spend her every waking hour servicing Maxim readers in freshman dormitories.
( Apology to people who honestly believe in “The Secret” : I am terribly sorry you are such a pathetic, ridiculous, credulous twat. That means you, too, Oprah.)
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