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Dear fancy pants blogger/author/marketing magician du jour
You are not a Ninja.
You know it.
I know it.
And deep down, where it matters most, so does most everyone else.
And i can prove it.
While I don’t have hard evidence of your non Ninja-ness, but i can in fact apply some basic Aristotelean logic to the notion that you are.
For example, based on your blog bio and profile pic:
1 – I would kick your ass in a fight. i am a pacifist. And not a good fighter. i have small hands and bruise easily. yet, if we met in a dark alley with the film crew of last man standing documenting our destructive dance, the smart money would be on me.
If I saw a real Ninja in a dark alley, I’d probably panic, drop my Google Glass and run.
Ergo – you are not a ninja.
2 – The reality meter says you are a blogger working from home in your underpants with an overdue electric bill.
Depending on your taste in underpants, that can be sexy and a bit bad ass too. No pun intended.
You are in fact an excellent blogger full of interesting ideas for lengthy lists.
This is a gift.
And that I’m willing to believe. So by all means, celebrate it.
But that doesn’t make you a ninja.
Ninja’s don’t wear underpants. And they work in the dark with sharp objects under the cover of smoke and stealth.
It’s actually a totally different line of work.
You are not a Ninja.
3 – If you were a Ninja, Chuck Norris would fear you.
He’d still fight you, but he’d fear you nonetheless.
Chuck Norris has no idea who you are.
He may be 80 – but he still has a prescient pulse on all the working ninjas in the US of A, and you ain’t on the short list.
Not a Ninja.
And as a side not(e) –
I am not “Legendary”.
And even if i was, how would you know?
We are strangers.
We’ll never meet.
I got up this morning, binge ate a breakfast of ding dongs and bacon and spent the rest of the morning admiring my non dad dad bod, which i think is the result of too little cardio and too many carbs after 10pm.
That’s not legendary.
It’s actually pretty alarming when you just moved across the street from the beach.
I’m not proud of it, but it’s true.
So stop pissing on my shoes and telling me it’s raining.
Give me an umbrella and some encouragement and some honest advice – but selling us all on the silliness of our specialness as a strategy is getting super stale and counterproductive to what matters most.
Otherwise, keep up the good work.
The Rockstars and Unicorns