Have you ever flown on a private jet?

I am quickly becoming a Masterclass addict. 

A couple of months ago, my wife bought me a subscription. You know for my 44th birthday. And since cracking open this treasure chest of advanced thinking I find myself watching less TV, particularly now that it lacks the nightly horrors of former Precedent Shitgibbon, and spending more time listening to the likes of David Sedaris, Gary Kasparov, Joyce Carol Oates and David Mamet.

If you haven't sampled a Masterclass, I suggest you do. 

It's my understanding that I have a few guest passes. Let me know and I'll try and send you one. After I figure out the html scripting and QR code encryption needed to make the transaction.

Currently I'm enthralled by Sedaris, who is my favorite beach day writer. He's not fancy. Doesn't work hard to impress. And amazingly readable. Yet each of his stories unveils a simple human truth that tends to linger like a delicious cup of fudge brownie ice cream.

He opens his multi-class series with a stunner, the blessing of being a writer. And it has nothing to do with being famous or making money, though few of us reach that level. It is more fundamental. I'm paraphrasing here...

"Being a writer means you have within yourself the means to take the bad stuff in life and make something of it. You can excise it from your body. It is a self healing mechanism. Frankly, I feel sorry for people who aren't writers and can't do anything with tragedy, heartache or getting a flat tire on the way to an interview."

Perhaps this is not as revelatory as I had imagined. Perhaps it was the three finger's worth of Bulleit Rye whiskey having its way with me, but it stopped me in my tracks. Because it correlates to so much of what I've taught my daughters. That is, to absorb life in all its ups and downs and find the humor in the downs. It's there if you look for it.

I told the story of our absolute worst day of vacationing in Mexico about 6 years ago. And since that time, have employed the technique many times over. Particularly in 2020, perhaps the worst year of living for all of us.

My keyboard is my therapist.

Sedaris shares many tricks of the trade. For instance he abhors small talk. In its place he makes a habit of striking up conversations with people with odd questions that defy typical responses like, "I'm fine , how are you?"

Questions like:

"Have you ever touched a monkey?"

"Did you ever run for public office?"

"Do you know many people in wheelchairs?"

I can't begin to tell you how much I love this. In fact, I'm going to walk my dog now. And stop at the Minimart where I have this very routine relationship with the cashier, a very pleasant Hispanic woman with two kids and a chihuahua and I'm going to ask her:

"Have you ever eaten rattlesnake sausage?"

I'll let you know where it goes.