Writing eventually kills me.

[Read, I Died On National Fried Chicken Sandwich Day, And All I Had Was The Salad; Watch; or Listen]

My first life — in my twenties in the eighties — I write and produce a thousand television and radio commercials.

I do this sitting, with Ruffles.

In my thirties in the nineties, I lose a company and spend the next 10 years defending. Dozens of suits. Law libraries. Thousands of hours. Reading. Litigating. Writing. Mediating. Synthesizing. Dominating. Along the way I write a new company that is still in business.

I do this sitting — with Ronald McDonald.

In my forties in the aughts, I write hours of stand-up, 100+ Toastmaster Speeches, and three 90 minute solo shows. I write another new company that I run to this day.

I do this sitting — with John from Papa John’s.

In my fifties in the teens, I write nearly 300, tightly scripted, 60 minute, pre-recorded audio-only shows, featuring advanced character design, massive amounts of research, and as many as eight audio tracks mixed and mastered. A 60 minute show takes 60 hours to produce.

I do this sitting — with Mike from Jersey Mike’s.

In 2020 at 60, I declare that a pandemic is the best time to build things. I recruit three co-founders and write two new companies.

I do this sitting — with Jack from In The Box.

Accordingly, in 2023 at 63, I run two software companies, a proptech start-up, and this fledgling multimedia fixation. I consult with my sons’ company. I coach my business partner’s son. I take care of my 85 year-old Mom.

On November 9, 2022, my first life abruptly ends when my body violently attacks me, killing me dead.

In my second life, I sit down to nuts, berries, whole grains, lean meat, fish, fresh fruit and vegetables.

We have never had more reasons to sit. Good reasons — even great reasons — to aggressively sit.

One could say the twenties are “The Golden Age Of Sitting!”

Apparently, one just did.

You wake up to sit in the car to sit in the office to sit for lunch to sit in the car to sit for dinner so you can “crash” — too sluggish to sit!

Remember the old days of exercise when you walk to the car to get to the drive-up?

Today, the drive-up magically sits in a bag on your stoop.

It’s not Jack In The Box. It’s you in the box.

I write therefore I train.

Eat responsibly.