The Bruce Palma Report

Verily I say it’s hard waking up and worrying about your life before you’ve even had your first cup of coffee. And so one must do some re-aligning in their spirit.  Get focused and positive. Do some jumping jacks. Get the blood flowing.  Get some good feeling positive energy in your fingers and your toes. And then begin to battle the day with all its frustrations and worries, and cares, and cars and concerns. Or not… Maybe just breathe.  And smile. And be happy you have free will and don’t have to drink goat’s milk. One has many choices in life. One of them is to drink goat’s milk. I will pass. It’s not that I condemn anyone for wanting to drink the milk of a goat. I will allow anyone to drink goat's milk if they so choose. I have no authority over milk consumption—from goats, cows, sheep or pine nuts. Goat’s milk is just not in my Top 10 Beverage Choices list. I’d rather drink mosquito milk. Or flea milk. Or aardvark milk. Just not the warm milk from a hairy stinky goat ...

You would think the toilet provides as basic a function as one could imagine.  But there are probably more different toilet and toilet seat designs and variations than there are bird varieties in Brazil. But why? As they say in pre-school, it’s either “Number 1” or “Number 2.” Although if you’ve been out drinking all night and eating crab enchiladas laced with bacteria, you might be needing the toilet to help you with, “Number 62.75.” And why shove a poor crab in between a corn tortilla anyway? After visiting my local giant big box home supply store, the one with the tall ceilings, harsh lights and canned music, and seeing the over 100 different toilet seats for sale (all displayed like fine art in an art museum—hung on the wall like so many Picassos), I realized that we humans have gotten way out of control with our imagination and productivity. Someone is spending way too much precious time thinking up and designing endless variations for a simple waste receptacle. ...

. It’s 4:16 am in the morning and I’m drinking coffee to wake up and crush my day. I’ve resigned myself to being a black coffee drinker, non-organic, non-fair trade, non-certified everything.   Just plain ol’ black coffee. Chock Full of Nuts to be exact. I’m not sure how the beans are grown, harvested and shipped in a steel can (says so right on the can) to my local grocery store and then to my shelf, then to my coffeemaker, and then, to my mouth.   It’s one of the few great pleasures in my life I will not, under any circumstances give up.   I’ll give up carbs (for at least 2 hours), sugar (for at least a day) and even cheese. As much as I don’t want to give up cheese, some inner diet coach says “lay off the dairy, buddy, and eat a pine nut…”   But I won’t give up coffee.   The only reason I’m telling you is that many people seem to have the perfect prescription for life. Not their life, mind you. But yours… And for a nominal or quite substantial fee.  ...