The Muse

Showing posts with label Newsletter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Newsletter. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 20, 2022

We're Talking Money--Come Join Us

 Prelude to the first Edition:

 There is nothing like talking about money to bring up issues surrounding it.

You know how it goes, you are all focused, you are plunging ahead, and SCREECH! Something knocks you off kilter.

 Last night I watched Planet Earth with Zac Efron and Darin Olien, about Sustainability. Efron and Olien ravel the globe finding people and situations in hopes of finding a way of sustaining the earth. No matter how much you want to argue the cause, the earth is RAPIDLY changing, and it is getting hotter.

While those two men were In the Amazon jungle chasing down Medicinal plants, they received word from home that Malibu, where Olien lived, was on fire. (The Woolsey fire) He didn’t want to shorten their trip and figured he couldn’t do anything about it anyway so they continued, and soon learned that his house had burnt down.

He was grateful his dog was in a kennel, and no one he knew was hurt, but he ended up with all his worldly possessions were now what he had carried with him in his suitcase and backpack.

The trip back to Malibu was devastating.

Here I was focusing on money, talking about money, and writing a newsletter about money while the world was burning.

I felt trivial.

BUT THEN, that was stupid thinking. I was trivializing money, when it is the very thing we need. The thing most people want more of, and the thing that drives the world.

I apologize to money.

It isn’t the paper strips we want. It is the freedom and opportunity money can provide. Including funding trips such as Planet Earth where I learned about the “Blue zones,” where individuals live well past 100 years and how they are living.

For people who say they have enough, I bet they aren’t building wells in Africa, stopping forest devastation, and are having the many pleasures and resources money can provide.

So, I’m going ahead and putting out my Newsletter, The Money Whisperer for the select ones who subscribe to it.

Love you,



 Here we go…

Imagine we are sitting across the table from each other, and I just tasted the best Chocolate mousse I had ever tasted.” “Ah,” I breathe in ecstasy, “You must taste this.” I hold up my martini glass—for that is what it was served in, so you can use your own spoon.

 A friend did that to me once by ordering an appetizer of fried Tofu. “Just don’t think about it,” she said.” Try it.” I dipped crispy fried Tofu in the most exquisite plum sauce I had ever tasted—the likes of which I have never encountered since.

 She didn’t ask if I liked Tofu. She didn’t ask if I was willing to try it. Instead, she cut to the chase and said, “Just taste the damn stuff.”

That’s the sort of experience I want here for you.

And I’m not pushing Tofu. I am pushing “Getting Rich.”

 “Oh, gasp.”

 How many books, newsletters, or whatever content you have read used euphemisms to explain what being rich is? They are afraid to say it's having money.

Success might have a slightly different definition.

Success is becoming all you want to be.

Success needs tools. A shop owner needs a shop. A musician needs instruments. An artist needs time to create and tools to perfect their craft. In other words, they need money.

We are all given an inalienable right to develop our mind, body, and soul the best we can.

And that involves money.

Whatever may be said for poverty, the fact is, to be fully successful in life, one must have money.

Hey, I didn’t set up this system.

How do Presidents get elected?


How do kids go to college?


How do we have roads, vehicles, and swimming pools?


I have a yen for sushi tonight. How will I get it?


We have more trouble with money than Luke, Leia, Hans, and Chewbacca did in the Death Star’s Garbage Compactor. (Star Wars, the movie.)

How many heist movies have you watched with hopes that the robbers would get away with it? Sometimes they did, especially if they robbed from somebody who deserved to be robbed from.

The Treasure of Sierra Madre is considered one of the best movies to come out of Hollywood (1948). I remember from that movie that one man’s desire for gold was more than his desire for water when he was thirsting to death in the desert. At the time, I thought that was stupid, and I don’t remember how old I was when I saw the movie. Maybe I’ll watch it again, although I remember it not being much fun. Roger Ebert’s review: “The movie has never been about gold, but about character.”

There you have it.

Yes, I’m sharing my new finds, new information, and new attitude regarding money. But I’m not throwing it out indiscriminately. (Just like I wouldn't let just anybody ride my horse.)

It’s private. A sharing between you and me.

I’m not a financial guru. Instead, I’m a person who believes in growing, acquiring knowledge, and sharing it.

When I came upon this information, I wondered if I should write a book about it. I knew that if I was going to accumulate wealth, I needed to face some of my issues about it, so I began to write—maybe not an entire book full, but a Newsletter full. And twelve installments ought to do it.

I’m giving it only to Subscribers. I don’t intend to throw it out to be ignored or shot at.

Money deserves better.

Your email box might overflow each morning, but you need one more. (Not daily, but weekly.) You need an inspirational one. I hope The Money Whisperer Newsletter will be like one email I look forward to each week, and say, “Oh goody,’ when I see it.

If you would rather have a paper copy of The Money Whisperer, I can send one by snail mail.

That way, you can sit on the porch with the morning breeze puffing your skin, sip your coffee, and be inspired--without ever turning on your computer--you know how distracting it can be.

What better way to start the day? After that read you will feel like singing through the day, “I am rich beyond my wildest dreams, I am, I am.”

And if I have hit a hot button and made you mad at me, you can crumble up the pages and throw them in the garbage.

And, just think, when this The Money Whisperer Newsletter arrives in you e-box, it will not try to sell you anything. You paid for it already. It’s all signed, sealed, and delivered. You subscribed. We’re clear. If you don’t think the value of this newsletter exceeds the price paid for it, you can cancel money-back guarantee. And if I have hit a hot button and made you mad you can crumble up the pages and throw them away.

Money is a touchy topic. And these days we are so afraid of offending someone that we won’t say what’s really on our mind.

 If you get this as an email, I won’t be selling you anything. You subscribed, paid for it. We’re clear. If you don’t think the value exceeds the price paid, you can cancel, money back guarantee.



If you don’t want to commit to $12.00 for 12 issues, that will be 12- weeks-worth, delivered on Tuesdays; you can hit the one dollar per week per issue, and stop when you want. If you want a hard copy through the mail, please tell me.


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Tuesday, December 28, 2021


On this past Christmas Eve, Daughter Dear said to me: "I have something for you, but you need to go outside for a while,"

"Great, I'll take your dog for a walk. It will be like my first and best Christmas ever."

That First Christmas that I remember happened long ago when I was perhaps three years old-- before my dad went away to the war. My mother, father, and I lived with my grandmother, and they told their only child (me) that since we didn't have a fireplace, Santa would come in through the door. However, he wouldn't come in when a child was present. So, Daddy would take me for a walk while mother and grandmother hid.

I remember walking down the street, listening with eagle ears. "I heard him," I'd say, "Listen, Daddy."

Oh my, when we returned to the house, the tree was lighted, with toys encircling it like Santa's workshop. The trees' lights were all a glitter against silver tinsel icicles, and there was a tricycle.


Magic exploded abundantly that year.

And this one!


On this Christmas Eve, as Lafayette, daughter's coon hound, and I walked to the end of the street, I listened carefully, but I didn't hear bells jingling or Ho ho hos ringing through the night air.


However, when I entered the house, oh my, a life-size lighted pink flamingo was standing on the coffee table. 


                                     Pink outside in the snow.

 I was astounded and overjoyed. Daughter Dear had made it out of chicken wire, sprayed it white, and lighted it with pink bulbs she had ordered.

This was a lesson on asking and receiving.

 It's a long story that I'll shorten.

 I had said I wanted a lighted pink flamingo to put in the yard. I thought of making one but didn't have the energy or inclination. I wondered, too, if pink bulbs were available for Christmas lights. Other people had deer, horses, carriages, and sleighs, but I never saw a lighted pink flamingo. I shelved the idea and didn't put any more effort into wishing for one.

With three jobs, I don't know where Daughter Dear found the time to build a Flamingo, but she said it was easy. "I'll give it a try," she said and gathered up a table leg and some chicken wire we had on the property, plus a flower pot frame for the body, ordered the white light string and pink bulbs, and viola’ a pink flamingo.

We both slapped ourselves on the side of the head, "Sometimes it doesn't have to be hard."

A few years ago, my daughter and I called ourselves The Pink Flamingos. We will again when Daughter Dear has her own Real Estate Agency, and I will be an agent. I never understood the phenomenon of plastic pink flamingos in a yard. Still, I thought they were funny and pertinent to houses. Four years ago, when we signed, as fledgling Real Estate Agents to an agency, we couldn't use the name The Pink Flamingos—when Daughter Dear starts her own agency, we can.

After taking a break from my Real Estate Studies, (my license lapsed, and I'm back to square one, with 69 study hours out of 150 completed), I began a new project.


Here it is:


(I got my first subscriber, so, I'm committed to 12 issues at least.) 

Much Love,