My world.

The NewAgers say, "You create your own reality." OK:

In my world, anybody taller than me will be hobbled, or have a few vertebrae removed.

In this world, half-and-half will help you LOSE weight.

In my world nobody will use the expression "create your own reality," although the rule will still apply.

Every restaurant, of any kind, will have an all-you-can-eat buffet option in my world.

There will be no "skinny" jeans.

In this world of mine, you will never have to say anything twice to kids.

It goes without saying I will be rich as shit.

Notice that none of these rules in my world contain anything about feeding the hungry, or having no wars and such. In this world, I can be completely self-absorbed (by definition), and by doing so, everybody still wins.

And yes, all my friends and family will have all their desires met in my world. My mom runs The University of Higher Consciousness through Music and Also Fart Jokes. Both she and my brother are fully discovered as the most talented musicians in the world. And so is Ezra. Ambrose is an Olympic gymnast. Merry is an actress of great renown. Lucas is a hero, interior designer to the stars, and diplomat.

My lady will have a floral design/interior design/blogging/photography empire. Or she'll just travel the world. Or both. These are all guesses because the point is: She will have whatever the hell she wants. 

Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Junior Wells, Otis Rush and James Brown; Coltrane, Duke Ellington, Billie Holiday; all these people are alive, and in their prime. Ike Turner never hit Tina, but they make the same music. Michael Jackson never got so fucking weird, or died.

Martin Scorsese and I collaborate on a screenplay. David Lynch still makes movies like Wild at Heart and not Lost Highway.

There is another Hellboy movie as good as the first one.

Nobody ever says "sammich" or "sammy" when referring to nature's most perfect food.

I went to art school and I learned to read music, and I get to be Mick Jagger (in the 1970s) whenever I want. I've written, I don't know, 10 books so far.

When I walk out my door, there is a salad bar that starts right there and extends the length of the world into infinity.

Meat can be reproduced in abundance without hurting animals. I have a beaded curtain of dried chorizo sausages outside my front door.

This front door of mine opens not just on a salad bar, but on the Pacific Ocean. Not hot-climate Pacific, more like Northern California.

Smoking DOES NOT kill you. In fact, it makes you stronger.

So welcome to my world, motherfuckers. (In this world "motherfucker" does not imply incest nor is it offensive unless I want it to be. Offensive that is).