I'd Like to Play Alone, Please

by Tom Segura

One other thing: Are the Taliban really that bad? Seems like they’re a bunch of knuckleheads, but mostly the kind of guys you want to have a beer with.

Days before he passed, he asked me if I knew what happens after someone dies. “What?” “The world goes on.”

I believe we all control our own destiny, and if you put something out in the universe with love and good intentions, some version of what you’re looking for will come to you.

But what I really took from the whole encounter was put yourself out there. If you love barbecue, tell the world. If you love tennis, tell the world. If you love dressing up like a dog and having a dildo that’s made to look like a tail inserted into you rectally, tell the world. The world hears you. You’ll see.

Use what you have. That’s the real lesson. If you have looks, exploit those to your advantage. If you’re big and strong, intimidate people and maybe physically assault them if you need to. Me? I’m going to talk shit if you press me. Sometimes I’ll come up short, sometimes I’ll go too far. But sometimes, like in the classroom that day, I’ll fuckin’ nail it.

I was enlightened by the lost wallet experience. I’d learned something they don’t teach you in school: The world is full of disappointment. In sports, jobs, but most of all, in people.

I thought about it. How did I survive? Don’t give me that miracle shit. There has to be a real-world reason. I asked him why he thought I made it through. He looked at the chart and then to me. “You’re two hundred fifty pounds. That’s a lot. Sometimes it’s good to be fat.”

“When it comes to art, greatness is not subjective. Greatness is undeniable.” Kudos for the rec, Chris Noth. You’re the only worthwhile white I’ve ever flown with.