The Secret to Becoming a Plastic Duck

A page from what appears to be a desktop calendar for The Secret was sitting on the toilet paper dispenser in the men's room today.

Live your dream in your heart and let the Universe move everything to bring your dream to you. Feel your dream, feel the presence of the Universe inside you, KNOW that the Universe is with you, guiding you, and then allow the Universe to realize your dream.

Profound. I felt so inspired that I dreamed for some buxom elven maidens to appear and wipe my bottom with silken toilet paper. I felt that dream, baby. I felt the presence of the Universe inside me. I just KNEW the Universe was with me and that it would realize my dream for me.

Alas, the only presence I felt was my skin growing around the toilet seat from sitting on my ass and dreaming. And the only bottom wiping being done was by my own hand with a substance as far removed from silk as possible (probably two notches above sand paper). And you are very welcome for that imagery.

For an appropriate smack-down of this nonsense, check out The Atomic Dog in his article My Speech to the Graduates, 2007.

And sure, The Secret "helps" people, but I'm going to quote Karl Marx here and proclaim that The Secret is the opium of the people. People who believe in The Secret surrender responsibility. They don't need hard work or resolve or perspiration, The Secret will provide all. They're all plastic ducks that have cast themselves onto the mercies of the ocean.

If you're vulnerable to every false god that comes along, you're pretty much doomed to be a 7-11 clerk...4EAE. (That's "forever and ever" to you non-texting people.) And not even a dayshift 7-11 clerk. No, you won't be good enough for "the show." You'll work the night shift and when some punk slips a 12-count box of Bud underneath his parka, you'll look the other way lest he use your rectum as a bottle opener.

If you're prone to every false god that comes along, you're emotionally and intellectually weak. You're a plastic duck.

For fun, I replaced "the Universe" with "God" and got essentially what makes up good Christian dogma: Just ask God to do things for you and it will happen. Never mind hard work, planning, and determination. Simply pray, or dream, for something and it will be delivered to you, no effort required on your part (except a little faith that no effort on your part is required).

But perhaps what disturbed me the most is that I found this in the men's room. In a stall. Was some dude (duck?) meditating on this while he pooped? What a way to treat your holy text.

And in that spirit, I used the sheet to wipe myself. Seemed like a more appropriate use of my time.

Quack. Quack.