Hello, aspiring minimalists, and welcome to today’s episode of “Cut the Crap!”—the podcast that helps you focus on what matters.
Quick question: Do you feel swamped in life and overwhelmed with clutter? Don’t worry! Just follow this elegant, life-simplifying rule composed of eleven sub-rules.
80% of your physical possessions contribute nothing to your happiness. Do you own twenty shirts? Wow, that’s so many. How many do you really need? Only four, actually, because according to neuroscience, the brain can only handle twice as many shirts as you have nipples. Go on, ditch those excess shirts. I’ll wait.
Are you hesitating and clinging to your plethora of shirts? Here’s the thing . . .
20% of your emotional attachments are hurting you. The desire to hoard clothing is a toxic emotion that will turn your bedroom into a bewildering trash heap. Other toxic emotions include FOMO, rumination, and sympathy for sharks (nature’s garbage). The fix? Inventory your attachments, count them, and cut one-fifth. Begone!
Now, maybe you’re saying: “But I love my shirts! I don’t own too many! I only rent two storage lockers! Sharks are nice fishies! Everything is fine!” Trust me, I’ve said all that before. I was so deluded. This brings up sub-rule three . . .
Only 17% of what you say is interesting or worthwhile. The other 83% is capital-“B” Boring, and it’s weighing you down. Minimalists say only awesome stuff—nothing else. Remember to be precise, helpful, and fascinating with your words, and to never utter anything dull or superfluous, while at the same time being open, playful, and whimsical, though never in a way that makes people go, “You’re too whimsical and weird, and it’s super-annoying.” It’s the Ryan Gosling Rule: be the cool, quirky, grounded, vulnerable, strong, expressive, silent type.
Do that, and you’ll make some incredible friends. But don’t make too many. After all . . .
Just 30% of your relationships actually serve you. Want proof? Share this podcast with everyone you know. Most people won’t respond, which is pretty passive-aggressive, if you ask me. It’s time to seriously cut some friendships. Here’s how . . .
The 5 friends who can help you with shark encounters—based on swimming, fighting, and CPR skills—are the only friends you need. Your other friends should be demoted to casual coffee pals and removed from your inner circle of tight-knit rabble-rousers who light bonfires and take mushrooms together. Ditto for aunts and uncles. Most of them are pointless. Remember . . .
1 of your uncles is Top Dawg, and you should keep a small photo of him on your fridge inside a Popsicle-stick frame that reads “BEST UNCLE!” The other uncles are dreck. Eliminate them. Hint: that uncle who invited you on that “fun” diving trip in Florida is not a good man. Here’s why . . .
17% of all shark attacks on humans occur in Florida, despite the state having just . . .
0.29% of the world’s human population. If you want a simple life with fewer reconstructive surgeries, you need to cut out Florida and the toxic uncles who support it. Write that down.
Now, this is where many wannabe minimalists trip up. They think that they can just go to Florida with their crazy uncle Ray Ray, party with his biker gang, take hallucinogenic drugs, drive a Hertz rental Subaru onto the beach, light it on fire, publicly declare themselves Beach Master, Lord of Surf and Sand, then dive into shark-infested waters beneath a full moon. Here’s the issue . . .
0% of sharks are safe. Trust me, I learned the hard way: a lengthy hospital stay in the shark-bite ward and a pesky disorder where the “Jaws” theme plays on repeat in my mind. Do you think the influx of bandages, surgeons, and physical therapists has made my life simpler? It hasn’t. It’s really anti-minimalist. And when you come to, in the hospital, with a giant bloody bite in your torso, you’re gonna be really thirsty and overheated. That’s why . . .
6% of your daily hydration needs should come from sucking on ice cubes. Simple. Effective. Transformative. Poetic. Ketogenic. Life-changing. Minimalism!
And that’s it. By the way, I hope you’re not actually planning on doing all of the stuff I just said. That’d be totally fucking insane. Instead . . .
Take the best 66% of what I told you today, and ignore the rest. That’s called cutting down on mental clutter. Don’t ignore the Florida stuff, though. That place is a shark-infested hellhole. ♦
