Sunday, 13 September 2020 07:47


The kind of moments that COUNT, that make you really feel it . . . and as I almost burst into tears (literally).  .  .

But wait. Let me recount from start to finish (or mostly everthing, for that matter). As is the case I’m writing this here first email of the day for ANY of my businesses BEFORE I check my email, sales, the news, sh-news, and the latest “chit chat” on Weshat, whatsapp, or any of the other apps.

In fact, I SHUT down all those apps on my phone before I go to bed.

Which for whatever reason right now is a . . . ah, but we’ll get into that later as well. But anyway, I shut down all those annoying apps - - and in the middle, I used to turn off my WIFI and data as well.

I think I wrote to you a while ago about turning off my WIFI service, and seeing if I “lived”  without it. Turned out I did just fine, and the reason I do what I do is so I’m not besieged by annoying messages the moment I wake up.

I’d rather have my FIRST thoughts of the day.

Anyway, my wife and me were going at it. As usual, or sometimes I should say. We can be an “Italian couple” on occasion!

“Yes, and the car DOES matter”, she was pouting (I believe).

“I’m buying a new one next month!” she triumphantly said. “A Skoda at that!”

Does any of it really matter, I remember asking her.

“Yes it does!”

Whatever, I replied.

And there we were a few hours later sitting in a “get together of sorts”. My wife’s friends mostly, all huddled around to convince me that it “did matter”.

I took it for a while. Listened to all the BS.

And then, as is my wont, I piped all of a sudden.

“Look dude”, I remember telling one particularly annoying fat slob (a doctor if I remember right!).

“I could care less if you think your three houses, fifty cars, retinue of servants and what not is the most important thing on the planet. Hey, go for it. But I don’t!”

“He doesn’t care about anything!” my wife sagely noted. “All he’s interested in is writing and getting those darn books of his out. And talking about topics that don’t interest me at all!”

“Well, why are you still with me”, I Remember laughing.

“You have a great job, a great paycheck” (NB – this isn’t exactly the case in real life, but we’ll get into that more below! ?.

“Yet, you continue to choose to stay “stuck with me”” I said.

And back to dude.

“Dude. What I care about it shit that matters. And what I care about is that I CAN knock your damn lights out if I want to regardless of all your external accrouments if you pester me up and down all damn hour long like you’ve been doing a while”.

That seemed to shut him up.

A short while later, the “doorbell” buzzed I believe.

“Ugh”, I said. “Again!”

“There”, my wife piped up. “HE’s a hermit that prefers to live in a cave!”

(Hey, I wrote about THAT before too! ? Mr Wolf doing handstands . . . )

Anyway, the seas were a rolling outside.

Wave after threatening wave, and the skies were GREY, dark, and overcast. We were out at sea on the USS Alabama (I don’t know why that name comes to mind!).

And then I left the “soiree”.

Retreated to my quarters, talked to my mates.

All of whom were heavily bandaged from the war.

The kind you don’t see in the movies. Not the pretty scars that leave the hero looking even more like a hero.

REAL scars. REAL ugly stuff that occurs in battle, and we huddled around in solidarity.

And there was a book lying on the floor.

A green hardcover book, and idly I looked at it.

The cover was flipped open, so I flipped it back.

And I saw it. The silverback gorilla staring up at me, and the words “Gorilla Grip – Advanced” staring back at me.

It was MY BOOK!

And obviously one of these men had bought it  . . .

A wellspring of emotion bubbled up in me, but I kept in check.

And then one of the dudes piped up. Heavily bandaged, barely able to move.

And he stooped down (I know I make it seem like he was old, but he wasn’t. Some were young, some middle aged, but none old. The travesties of real war as it were. Men up top make the decisions, and the brainwashed masses believe they’re fighting for their “country” and EVERYONE in the middle dies. Not mine, but a short version of what Rambo said in Rambo IV) and picked up the book.

“You know, that’s a damned good book!”

And I woke up, ready to burst into TEARS. Literally, so powerful was the emotion that I wrote it down pronto in my dream diary, and am now sharing it with YOU.

My buddy from the Marines once “broke down” when we were sharing a few beers together, and he called me up the next day and said the following.

“Hey man. I’m sorry! I lost control!”

My response?

“Don’t be! That happens, man! After all, what do guys drink together for? Man, that happens!”

And it does, my friend. It does. Especially when “old war horses” get together to share memories, drinks etc . . .

Anyway, before all this the current India China conflict where the situation is very dangerous poised right now (despite what the “sh-news” tells you, the two countries are already in a limited conflict that could involve the whole world) was flashing HEAVY in my mind.

I was dreaming about SOMETHING related to that all night long, and a sentence was appearing in my mind just as vividly as all the above did (I can still remember the color of the sea!).

And oddly enough, I’ve forgotten what it was, since that was the “first dream” of the night, and I never did write it down.

I DO write everything down, of course, but sometimes, when Im in deep sleep, I just turn over and let the dream continue and figure I’ll write it down “later” which usually works, but sometimes not!

Anyway, I will probaby read about the exact same thing on the news later, or hear about it somehow. Prophetic I know, but that’s how these dreams tend to be for me.

Point of all this? The emotion?

Why did I almost burst into tears?

Because my work is getting into the right hands, my friend. People that matter. People that do the right thing, and are willing to fight and die for the freedoms the rest of y’all enjoy.

People that don’t believe in kitty party BS.

People that are the REAL deal.

Real MEN. Real soldiers. Real WARRIORS.

And to all of you out there, my friend, a tip of the hat, and a cold one from me. You guys are the reason I do this, and you deserve it! ?


Rahul Mookerjee

PS – And yes, that was a real dream. Happens to me often . . . often times, I’ll see sales in my dream before they actually occur!

PS – Anyway, HERE is where you can pick up the original Gorilla Grip. And HERE is where you can pick up the COMPILATION -