Zig Ziglar Can Bite My Ass

Chuckles has used his mystical wang power to peer through the veil of secrecy and find the real Snag. It is true. I am a motivational speaker. Here's what I said to my audience this morning:

Thank you for paying money to be here today. It makes me a richer person, at least materially, the only way that matters. Just as important, looking out at all of you reminds me how much worse my life could be.

I wasn't always the suave hellcat you see before you. No, I was born a simple lad, raised in a bamboo yurt without running water or sunlight. I was a hard worker, though, and by kindergarten had amassed my first million, selling gall bladders on the open market.

Other endeavors soon caught my fancy. I played professional baseball in a fantasy league for several seasons. I bred kelp. I manufactured real estate. In my heart, I still knew it wasn't enough. I had something left to give.

A decade as a Trappist monk failed to cure me of this conviction and that's when I joined the motivational speaking circuit. I stand here before you today to tell you that you can do what I've done. You can go cave diving in Bismark. You can sell multi-level marketing schemes to schoolchildren in the developing world. You can kill and gut a caribou with a rock and a Q-Tip. But first you have to dream.

Stop for a minute and close your eyes. What's your dream? Is it to be me? For most people, it is. That's not going to happen unless you steal my DNA. Find another dream. Got one? Good.

What is it? You, sir, in the third row, stand up. What's your dream?

You're kidding me, right? That's your dream? I'll be dipped in shit. That's not a dream, that's a freaking nightmare. Alright, whatever, if that's what you want, that's what you want. Jesus.

Anybody else have a dream, maybe one that's not quite so horrifying? You, ma'am, in the back. What's yours?

Lovely. That's just nice. What the hell's wrong with you people? Don't any of you have normal dreams? Did I wonder into a locked ward by mistake? Look lady, I'm sorry, stop crying but I'm not running a Belgian porn site here.

Alright, I'll give you a dream, something to hang on to. Close your eyes again and let your mind drift. Picture yourself in a boat on a river. Now, picture yourself as Paul McCartney. Picture yourself as Yoko Ono for that matter. I don't care, picture yourself as anybody but the pathetic loser you are. Now picture yourself jumping overboard and being eaten by crocodiles.

Okay, open your eyes. Who feels better? Nobody? Tough titties for you then. Suck it up and stop whining. Christ, I'd slap you all if you were my kids. Since you're not I don't care enough about you to make the effort.

Fuckers.