‘The Secret’ to a happy life


IVE HAD MY share of luck in life, mostly on the soccer field and in the boudoir. But I could always use a little more success. I’m not exactly Warren Buffett. I’m not even Jimmy Buffett.

So when someone let me borrow a copy of “The Secret,” the phenomenally popular new book on achieving your dreams, I was eager to soak up as much good advice as possible. At 50, it’s about time I started listening to other people, particularly total strangers.

“When you think of the things you want, and you focus on them with all your attention, then the law of attraction will give you exactly what you want, every time.... When you focus on something, no matter what it happens to be, you really are calling that into existence.”


This is the fundamental message of “The Secret.” It’s an exciting concept, the power of a positive outlook, though as my buddy Tom (T-Bone) noted: “If just envisioning something made it happen, I would’ve had, like, 10,000 threesomes by now.”

So let’s move on to other concepts in this phenomenally popular new book.

“Food is not responsible for putting on weight. It is your thought that food is responsible for putting on weight that actually has food put on weight.... Think perfect thoughts and the result must be perfect weight.”

Hmmmm, just the thought of all that food is making me hungry for something. Like, one of those big drippy cheeseburgers topped with grilled onions.


By the way, those new McDonald’s Angus burgers aren’t all bad. They’re much better than most McDonald’s burgers, which usually taste exactly like the container they came in. Once, I ate a Happy Meal toy by accident. It was actually pretty good. That’s how I knew it wasn’t real McDonald’s food.

One more thing about food: I agree with that recent Parade magazine study that found “we are what we eat.” My buddy Rhymer, he’s about 95% coffee. Me, I’m 100% martini olives.

“Giving thanks for what you want in advance turbo-charges your desires and sends a more powerful signal out into the Universe.”

That just makes so much sense to me. I’m a big believer in anything that turbo-charges my desires. In fact, if my desires become just a little more turbo-charged, I’ll be the pace car at the next Daytona 500.

Anyway, as you can see, “The Secret” is a phenomenal book with some phenomenal messages. I’d rank it right up there with the Bible and “Confederacy of Dunces” for the impact it’s had on my life.

And like the Bible, “The Secret” will no doubt have a couple of versions (I’m envisioning 15).

So when the sequel comes out, I hope it’ll include several of my own secrets for a successful and rewarding life, including:

Take your education seriously: For today’s highly motivated young people, I usually recommend clown college. This is absolutely the best education for today’s job market, especially if you’re interested in a corporate career.

I spent five years in clown college, graduating with a double major in mimicry and disgusting bodily noises. I would’ve graduated in four, but I was suspended my sophomore year for giving a straight answer. In clown college, that’s how you set yourself apart.

If you need a dog, go to the pound: Believe me, purebreds are overrated. Just look at the French; they’re nuts, most of them.

Our family has a purebred dog, one of those Betty Crocker spaniels. Very fussy about food. I wouldn’t recommend a Betty Crocker at all, unless you like spending all day in the kitchen.

Be wise with your money: T-Bone had on this nice new pair of slacks the other day. He was very proud.

“Know where I got these?” T-Bone asked.

“A tent store?” I answered.

“Costco,” he said.

Like T-Bone, you need to be obsessive about good value. If you’re buying a car, go with a Honda. If you’re buying a house, look into converted gas stations -- that’s what we did.

Always marry for money, always: I made a major mistake early in life -- I married for love.

As you might’ve guessed, my wife and I met at clown college. She was the homecoming queen; I was the star quarterback. Back then, she drove this tiny little car, and there were always 11 or 12 other clowns crammed in there with her. Seriously, I never thought I had a chance.

Then one day during balloon animal class, she squirted some cold seltzer down my drawers. We were married the next day.

Now, looking back, I really wish that I had married for money.

I think we both do.

Chris Erskine can be reached at For more columns, see