Two kinds of men

When a man goes to the toilet to take a leak, he faces a choice that defines the kind of man he is. The choice is this: in order to free his urinal equipment does he pull down his underpants or does he simply whip it out the bottom of his underwear? In other words: Is he a Puller-downer or is he a Whipper-outer?
Each man is one of these . Never both. Believe me. A Puller-downer will not Whipper-out. Much less will a Whipper-outer ... let's leave it at that.
Why should he?
That choice defines him. Right there, standing in front of the toilet bowl, his character is revealed, because surely most of this man's important character traits can be deduced from his choice. Careful or impulsive? Efficient of effective? Talker or listener?
Really, there are two kinds of men in this world and because of it I am sure that somewhere the Puller-downers are fighting the Whipper-outers.
They must be.

Frenzied life

Without heaven or hell, it is all about here. And as here is finite, we need more now.
Crazy logic.

The moment rules

A spiritual and a commercial movement seem to come together, unwittingly. Now that we are all out of god, or at least some of us are, we have gone out shopping for something to believe. It appears shops in the East are full of goodies, thousands have been there to stock up on insight and meaning.
That's a good thing.
We don't want to run out of meaning.
One of the items they brought back was a new consciousness of life, of the moments it is made of. A singular attention for whatever it is that we do. Be it washing up or writing a novel, painting the house or riding the Tour de France - you do it with all your attention and all your senses. You let other thoughts go and assemble yourself around the task at hand. One by one you shut down other considerations, worries, ideas, ambitions and needs. You do what you do and you do it fully. When you are with friends you are with them and the more you can let other things go, the more you will experience and enjoy their company and the more that experience will mean. For them and for yourself. You expand the moment by living it to the full. You learn by fulfilling your potential in that moment.
Good stuff.
At the same time the experience economy is on the rise. Everything we buy must also be an experience. Just buying new shoes or breakfast cereal or holidays isn't enough. We are in need of experiences, be it rafting, bungee jumping, hicking through Iran, helping victims of a natural disaster or a visit to Disney World.
And every experience must be bigger and better and more intense, louder, higher and faster than the previous. We are in the middle of an economic life cycle that can only go one way.
The media, too, are part of the experience economy. For the love of ratings and circulation figures they serve us what we want: Moments filled to the brim with experience. Overflowing. Every possible sensory stimulus crammed into each moment. Shouting, yelling, singing, dancing, laughing we turn up the volume until we can only hear ourselves.
The moment rules.
Live it.
Eat it.
Scream it.
This is your life.
And this.
And now.
And again.
The spiritual and the commercial coincide and produce moments never to forget. Until the next moment. A tsunami draws media from all over the world: television, radio, newspaper, photo, blog - there are thousands of people there to pump up the moment. Biggest ever.
European football championship.
The China Olympics.
We are here.
You are here.
Give.
Live.
On to the next one.
Temptation Island, Expedition Robinson, Big Brother.
We are creating hysteria. We are marketing hysteria. We are selling hysteria.
Small wonder that these are hysterical times.

Changing lanes

Things happen. You're driving along, minding your own business, trying to keep your car in good condition, trying not to cause danger to others on the road - that kind of stuff. I've been doing it for almost fifteen years. Published nine books, well received, some more so than others, won a couple of prizes and a few more nominations. All very well and nice. People treat me as a known quantity: a commercial guy with an interesting hobby. I'm in Lane 2. Good lane to be in. People never talked down to me, even though it was clear I had no business in Lanes 3 or 4 or whatever other lanes there are.
So, I'm in Lane 2, when suddenly book number 10 hits the top of the charts, number 1 in the bestseller's list. The book has been out for a couple of months (well received, won another award - business as usual) when everything changed. Just when I was just getting my thoughts back together, trying to figure out what my next book is going to be about. I am excited beyond what I am going to tell you here.
Before I knew what had happened, I had changed lanes. I suddenly find myself in Lane 3. Very good lane to be in. It's not that people start talking up to me, but I find there are certain things I don't have to explain anymore. Not to the same extent anyway.
Example. Someone had an idea, a proposal that didn't sit well with me, and I sighed. A little sigh, no more than a short escape of air from my lungs, maybe dressed with a touch of disappointment. I pressed my lips together and pushed the air out through my nose, accompanied by a quick internal hm. That's all. I always voice my first disagreement like that. Always have done. But no-one ever seemed to notice.
Lane 2. Typical.
When you're in Lane 2 you have to honk your horn and flash your lights, and even then there is no guarantee that people will respond in the way you would like them to.
So I sighed my little sigh and prepared for some honking and flashing. But as I breathed in to go verbal and explain why this idea was no good, the woman on the other end of the line withdrew the the whole thing, saying it was a rediculous proposal anyway and she was going to sort things out and get back to me.
Bang. Like that. She hung up.
Lane 3. Definitely. Maybe 4. I don't know, I'm new here.