From the Desk of Doctor B. D. Septive
The Self-Helpiest of all the Self-Help Gurus
You must ask yourself, “Why am I here at the Piggly Wiggly?” Do you have an unsatisfied craving for bacon that shimmies? Maybe you’re out of mayonnaise. Maybe you're out of toothpaste. Or, maybe you're out of mayonnaise flavored toothpaste. The only way to find out why you are here is to ask yourself. If you don’t answer, ask again. And no fair looking at your inner caller ID. Just because you know it’s you calling with a difficult question, that’s no reason to not pick up.
This isn’t someone calling to ask you to take part in a survey that ultimately reveals you need a home security system or a water softener. It’s you asking you to think about you and to put your future at the top of your to do list. It’s you asking you if you are ever going to put down the tub of lasagna and become the you that you are capable of becoming. It’s you asking you why gorillas don’t eat meat and yet, you, the higher form of mammal, eat chicken pot pie. So you must decide. Are you going to sit there, watching your grass grow, or are you going to throw down your fertilizer gauntlet and make your grass grow?
See how hard it is to figure out what you should do, which course to take, whose face to paint? That’s because you haven’t asked yourself, “Who am I?” Are you the character you dressed as on Halloween? If you were Charles Manson or Pat Sajack, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. You’d have even more explaining to do if you came as a combination of Charles Manson and Pat Sajack, the short, gray-bearded man wearing a three-piece suit and a swastika carved in his forehead. If that was your costume, you need to see a specialist.
But for the rest of you, the other 94 per cent, think of what you were on Halloween. Were you a clown or a gangster? An alien or a witch? A flapper or all the Village People? And why wouldn’t you stop singing YMCA? See if I ever have you over for a 70’s party, again. Is that why you are here, to be as annoying as possible? I doubt it. You’re here to be the true self that makes up yourself. The true self that is true to yourself. The true self that is the truest self of all your selves. Is the real you a 1944 Studebaker, well put together with classic lines and tough as nails? Or are you a 1975 Gremlin with a lime green paint job just in case everything else about the car hadn’t already made you sick? It is within your power to choose who you will be, right after you figure out who you are.
NEXT TIME: When you're playing in the park