Sometimes life gets under my skin, and I want to run from everything.

I visualize someplace remote, devoid of human life. Just me and the animals, the water, the rocks and endless natural vistas, like sliding into a movie I created for myself to live in forever.

This mindset is not uncommon, and it isn’t insanity, though it can feel a lot like it when your skin starts to crawl off your bones.

It happens when I get burned out.

People at “wellness” clinics diagnose this as low-T  [with or without a blood test] and prescribe 1 CC of testosterone with HGH and 2 or 3 other cocktail items to balance out the side effects while keeping my mood in line with the way it was at age 17.

I could go down this road with you, but you already know the punchline.

The point here is that as I get older, I experience depression directly tied to aging.

Some say it isn’t depression at all, but rather, sadness that life is flying by so quickly just when I’ve reached a point in life where I can afford to do whatever the hell I want, within reason.

But also sadness because I have more time to reflect back on my life, which most know isn’t a particularly healthy thing to do when it turns into a kind of comparison.

I was 21 with the world in front of me. Now I’m 62 with the best of it – at least physically – behind me.

In other words, my script’s already been written.

It’s at this stage in life that we men have to figure out how to balance the realities of where we are, and then come to a place of acceptance and peace.

This is easier said than done because it requires self-actualization, which is kind of like studying an actuarial table.

Think of it as a complex equation where all the data points are separated from one another and placed under a microscope.

If you’ve never done this, I’d advise you find a padded room for your first go round.

Then you can move on to wide open spaces, which is where I am now.


Reality Robustus […or, a germ stole my thunder]

Since my last post [forever ago in the context of instant and immediate everything], I have been immersed in a new book project that’s drawn most of my available energy, which was already in short supply after coming down with the flu this past December. My particular strain has its own designation, H3N2. Some on the Internet tell me it’s an interstellar bug that escaped government protection, while others claim the government manufactured it to use on millennials. Either way, the shit got loose and found a home in a Baby-Boomer.

The lingering effects are legion: Fatigue, weakness, low appetite, cough, airway irritation that affects how long you can be active, loss of sense of smell [which in rare cases becomes permanent], and, in my case, you can tack on paranoia, depression, nightmares and mild dissociative states…among others.

Anyway, once the worst of it had passed, my idea was to take things slowly, not try to rush back to the gym until my stamina was rebuilt. At this writing, however, I’m still waiting.

When I was 23 the flu was an abstraction. I got sick, hung out at home, healed in three days, and met friends out for celebratory drinks. I won. There were no extenuating circumstances, no complications, nothing I gave much consideration to because none of it was particularly relevant. Nobody died back then, at least not until they were too old to live, which was fine since we all agreed that growing that old was like experiencing death in slow motion.

Now I see the extenuating circumstances, the potential for complications, and the shorter life expectancy in real time.

Having run down all of this down with you, I’m not dying. I didn’t contract cancer or have a stroke or brain aneurism or spinal injury. I got the flu and developed psychiatric problems from extended exposure to

The point in all of this is that at this stage of life you’re in a steady state of low-level paranoia, coupled with reflection and denial. Put another way, what’s reflected is usually denied. So you have to come to a place of acceptance, which requires decades of therapy.

You’re no longer physically beautiful, unless of course, you’re Robert Plant, which you’re not. And death is closer than ever, virus or no virus. Your sense of relevance is constantly under siege no matter what you did to become the person you are which, like I said, is closer to death. For many of you this is the end of mental health, especially you guys on the precipice of 50 squeezing out that last hurrah before staring down the barrel of aesthetic annihilation. One steroid shot after the next, week after week, in tandem with the endless runs, swims, bike rides and weight training sessions that collectively earn one that bronzed wrap, star white teeth and endless string of broken marriages, all in favor of the drug of self. Your time is around the corner. Buckle up.

So here I am, starting the New Year with a bang. In truth, I have nothing to bitch about that doesn’t embarrass me. I have financial security, a family of animals…and a wonderful, loving and reasonably sane woman half my age that puts up with me. What’s not to love?

In this spirit, my blog posts begin anew for 2018.


1] Money does, in fact, buy happiness as long as you’re physically healthy, which money enables you to maintain.

2] Psychiatry is a noble profession.

3] Looks fade, but not heart. In this sense, relevance is eternal.

Sir Mick Does It…Again

Mick Jagger, 73, is now on his 8th child with 29-year-old ballerina Melanie Hamrick.

As you might imagine, people have lots to say about this, mostly negative.

“He’s too old to have a child.”

“Their 44-year age difference is outrageous.”

“She’s a gold-digger.”

“He’s a lech.”

“The whole situation is perverted.”

It’s very easy to criticize people for their unconventional lifestyles.

But last time I checked, nobody put a bullet to Melanie’s head, and I’m sure the children will do just fine…

The Forensics of Rich Older Men and the Young Women in Their Lives


“Hell yes, I’m down. No money. Psychiatric problems I can’t even pronounce. No job prospects. One foot in the gutter. So yea, that old man looks damn good at this point. What other choice do I have? It’s hell out here and I’m not getting any younger…”


After a certain point, relationships tend to be more about conscious asset balancing. This is not cynicism. It’s just another door to love, rather than the one we used when we were in our twenties.

Thus, when people see young women in the company of much older men, they see a very specific equation. But there’s often a lot more to it.

For example, let’s say an affluent man of 65 begins to see a woman of 35.

He may be in excellent physical health while she’s one foot under a bridge.

Men her age aren’t interested in her because she’s fallen through the cracks, in spite of a lingering beauty, unmistakable from days gone by.

Such men easily find others their own age who are successful attorneys, doctors, engineers and other gainfully employed professionals without the physical and psychiatric disabilities.

So she makes a conscious decision to do something about it by leveraging what she does have [youth and lingering beauty] against everything she doesn’t [the list is endless], and comes up with a man 30 years her senior willing to take her on in exchange for companionship and the prospect of real love.

He’s old and successful, she’s relatively young and broken, but with the proper care and financial resources he can rebuild a broken soul while satisfying his own needs at the same time.

She gets elaborate shelter, a constant resupply of meds, funds for medical check-ups, plastic surgery, fillers, Botox, travel and a closet full of designer clothing.

What’s not to love?

Over time she reemerges as someone else, a better her, the one she left behind a decade ago now on top of the human food chain.

And while she did, in fact, “sacrifice” years [Read: work], her efforts paid off handsomely.

Now you know why so many young women are in the company of rich older men, and why money is only part of the equation.

Psychology and the Retirement Nest Egg

heart-moneyMost of us Baby Boomers have launched retirement calculators a thousand times. Almost every financial institution has one, and invariably, the ones we tend to go to offer the most optimistic outlooks on how much we can spend until the day we die.

The problem is that no one knows exactly when they’re going to die, or if they’re going to die for those of us who’ve opted for cryogenic sleep.

Nonetheless, there is still an annual charge for keeping a body on ice, perhaps for a thousand years or more, so there’s that.

So here’s the dirty rotten obnoxious and existential nightmare-provoking truth: You probably won’t outlive your money.

As I stated in my book, Urban Dystrophy, The Perverse Truths About Mid Life in the Big City, a starter portfolio is $5,000,000.

I know I know. How the hell are you supposed to save $5,000,000 on a $500,000 annual salary over the course of 25 or 30 years?

After taxes somewhere in the 39% range, you’re only taking home somewhere in the $300,000 range.

If you own a home that costs $1,000,000, you can expect to pay $25,000 in property taxes and after a 20% deposit, approximately $60,000/year on a mortgage.

Now add electricity and other related home expenses and you’re down to $200,000 — and you haven’t taken a vacation, bought a single meal or paid a single car note.

Back out those expenses and with luck you have approximately $150,000 left over.

If, however, you have 2 kids, you have basically nothing left over.

So, for the past 25 years you’ve made $12,500,000 and don’t have a dime left in the bank.

Even if you were frugal enough to contribute $75,000,000 a year to a retirement account [for 25 years], you would still only have $1,875,000 in contributions, plus investment interest at an average of around 5%, so $2,800,000 – $3,000,000.


If you retire at age 65, that’s not even close to enough for anyone I know.

The reason for this is because you want to live the same way you did before you retired, which means you’ll need a few million more to generate the income you need to avoid running out of money before your time is up.

For most men I know who give a crap about living well in retirement, the number is around $7,000,000.

At a 5% return, you’re still at 350k/year.

If, however, market crashes, feel free to put a bullet in your head because being broke isn’t worth the struggle for older people.


Most men my age validate themselves based upon their relative financial security.

And while every psychiatrist on the planet will call bullshit on this because it’s about as unhealthy a perspective as one might have given the vagaries of money.

But nothing is going to change it unless you plan to join a monastic congregation in Burma.

Money is kind of like a living thing that follows you around wherever you go.

When it doesn’t, you have a big fat fucking problem.

Walk into a car dealership, new prospective home…or hell, the Apple store, and see what happens when the money monster isn’t with you and smiling.

Then you know true meaning of nausea.

The reason you feel the hubris of filthy rich older men with the tans, snow white veneers and $3000 suits is because they’ve beaten the system.

They’ve overcome whatever life can throw at them, shy of a brain aneurysm, stroke or stage 3 cancer.

In other words, they can ride out the highs and low of the stock market, or pay marginal tax increases and still live their lives without making any changes whatsoever.

This is where you want to be, but unfortunately, probably won’t be.

The media is always talking about wealth; who has this or that.

Magazines feature $5,000,000 homes like they’re normal abodes for anyone who’s led a reasonably successful life.

But this is a lie.

The only way to afford a home like that is to inherit it or sell something.

Salaries don’t pay for homes in that price rage.

Investment capital does.

Psychologically, this is a massive hurdle for otherwise success older men facing retirement.

You look down the road at the rest of your life and you don’t see the picture you’ve been sold…and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.

Many men lose their younger girlfriends and/or wives to cut backs in lifestyle.

The ones who don’t tend to be with women their own age who have little to no value on the dating market, who and just sty put.

On top of all this we have a government hell bent and determined to tax out of existence everyone in the middle to upper middle class – including the bottom end of the top 3%.

This is because there are more of them than there are people with $100,000,000 or more who don’t feel any tax increases whatsoever.

So now we have an oligarchy and you’re on the wrong side of it.


1] Figure out how much you absolutely, positively need to live the way you want to live and carve your expectations accordingly.

2] Accept that fact that as you near the end of your life, your retirement savings will be nearing the ends of it’s life.

3] Add 5 years to your anticipated lifeline and then hope and pray you don’t outlive it.

4] Find someone in your personal life who can handle stock market turbulence.

5] Don’t marry a gold-digger unless you’re in the $100,000,000 demographic.

4 Nannies + 2 Twins = How Money Evens the Playing Field


Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood, 69, and his wife Sally, 38, tend to their newborns, Gracie Jane and Alice Rose.


In days gone by [lots of them], a man of 69 was, for the most part, on his death bed.

The very last thing he was doing was having children with a woman 30 years his junior.

Then something happened [a lot, actually], and this same man is now clean and sober [for the most part, I assume], propped up by the miracles of medical science, and thus, living like there’s no tomorrow.

This is what fame and fortune [fame + money = relevance] does for most men.

It’s like a blood transfusion that just keeps giving and giving.

You’ll note that many of the comments under the article are dismissive of him and his “relationship.”

People simply can’t resist the temptation to criticize his motives, and hers.

Nothing is real. It’s all one big endless past time for a man who has nothing left to do with the time he’s not touring.

Well let’s get real.

No one in their right mind has kids at 69 without the ability to afford nannies…lots of them.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be a part of their lives, just not all of it.

As for his young wife, she’ll do her part, with lots of help, while her husband does what he does when he wants to do it, because like he’s Ronnie Wood and the scales have to balance somewhere.

Wealthy older men have reached a point in their lives where they just don’t give a crap what other people think about them and their lifestyles.

For one thing, they don’t have to. Nothing rides on their reputations in the office.

This is the beauty of success. No one can fault you for it no matter how you choose to live out your years.

It’s like a golden wrapper, a force field that follows you around wherever you go.

You walk into a restaurant, hotel, resort property – even local liquor store – and there’s a kind of parting of the waves.

It’s something you get used to, which is one reason men who find themselves suddenly without it blow their brains out.

The story here is really about what it’s like to feel validated for everything you ever dreamed of as a little boy.

For young men there is tremendous pressure to amount to something, to achieve.

And as we age we gauge our success by those around us, hoping that we’re still close to the front of the line, relevant, valid.

All older men validate themselves on their achievements whether they admit it or not.

They subconsciously sum up everything to a series of equations and derive a number that determines their relative worth.

And while some men do not base their lives solely on financial success, I don’t know any.

While vicariously living through one’s children is a fallback position, it really sucks to rely on their financial support.

The moral of this story is that life is a food chain no matter how you dice it.

You have to fight for every scrap, and then live to tell a very tall tale that you and people around you can easily quantify.

It is unforgiving, savage, and brutally objective.

This is why reality television focusing on the super rich is so popular, while anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting 40 million adults…and counting.

Now you know why people beat up on Ronny Wood…and why Daily Mail published it in the first place.

Concluding Remarks and Data Points

  • 1% (2 out of 233) became wealthy before the age of 40
  • 3% (6 out of 233) became wealthy between age 40 and 55
  • 16% (38 out of 233) became wealthy between age 46 and 50
  • 28% (66 out of 233) became wealthy between age 51 and 55
  • 31% (73 out of 233) became wealthy between age 56 and 60
  • 21% (48 out of 233) became wealthy after the age of 60

So yes, Ronnie was one lucky SOB.

“Love is a Concept Invented by Poor People…” Seeking Arrangement Founder, Brandon Wade


“By encouraging people to find and negotiate an arrangement, we hope to create modern relationships based on open-mindedness, open communication, brutal honesty and transparent expectations.”

“This is the future of dating.” BW

Ashley reminds me of someone I once dated, also an entrepreneur.


Now understand something here: The woman posing with Mr. Wade in the above photo would have no problem waltzing right over his dead body if he weren’t filthy rich.

I don’t mean this in any negative way, but Mr. Wade had to make himself valuable in order to earn visibility, which everyone understands and appreciates.

This revelation set him ablaze with passion to acquire the one asset that would act as a carbon credit for whatever he lacked elsewhere.

Next thing you know, he goes meteoric and declares “love is a concept created by the poor!” before heading off to CNN for an interview.

By the way, a rough translation of his statement is If you don’t have money, no one will love you, which is why poor people created it in the first place. 

Okay. Whatever. I get it. We get it. Pretty much all of us, really.

Baby Boomers like myself suffer physical attrition after enough water’s under the bridge.

Fortunately, though, many of us are able to leverage money and power against the cost of aging and manage to stay square with the gods.

Now you know why claims 1.9 million subscribers…and climbing.

On a general note, there is absolutely nothing novel about prostitution.

Whether you couch it as “Hey, I just need a little help with college,” or “Hey, want a blowjob?” you’re still hooking.

Having said this, everything these days is relative.

Just how relative depends on the price tag.

The more you spend, the more normal everything seems.

On a related note, most of the women my peers end up with are passed from one older man to the next within their own immediate peer group.

This is because the women in question are known commodities who’ve been properly vetted, and therefore, predictable within reason.

The downside is that there is often a limited supply of such women within certain demographics, which usually triggers bidding wars resulting in some of the best television fodder on the planet.


Affluent 50 to 60-Something Men Still Choose Beauty First


“…all older women hear (and thus believe) that older men are only looking for much younger women. OK, many of them are. But are they getting them? Not really, unless they’re wealthy and powerful. (And I have always believed that it’s good to identify those men and remove them from the 50-something dating pool ASAP; I’m not interested in men like that so move along, men, and good luck!”). Vicki Larson, journalist

I hate to tell you people this, but a simple fact can save you a lot of heartache:

Reasonably attractive, healthy and successful older men have lots of choices when it comes to choosing partners.

Too many, in most cases, which is why so many of them are single or serial monogamists, the emphasis on serial.


When it gets down to it, money and power are the great equalizers.

Conversely, youth and beauty are also commodities openly traded on the human stock exchange.

Whether you’re young or old, you have different assets to barter, but something is always for sale.

Most of the older successful guys I know have an exacting set of standards they apply to the acquired women in their lives.

These are the very same standards, by the way, they applied to their ex-wives before they divorced them 20 years later.

The fact is successful men prefer to date younger women is because THEY CAN.

Generally speaking, women over the age of 17 are not attracted to youth.

They’re attracted to confidence and power.

Therefore when a beautiful woman in her 20s or 30s meets a man who is in his 50s, with the world in the palm of his hands, it’s sexy and alluring to her.

His age becomes irrelevant.

Walk into any upscale restaurant or bar and what you will see are drop-dead gorgeous women accompanying successful older men.

These women were not forced at gunpoint, believe me.

To many men I know, it’s almost irrelevant whether these women are truly in love with them or merely out to make better lives for themselves.

It matters that they are in the company of a beautiful, intelligent and uncomplicated young woman.

The rest they leave to a suspension of disbelief.

She is everything their wives once were before time took its pound of flesh and soul.

No wonder so many middle aged women without much to leverage scream and yell about all of this.

But put them in the position to do what these young women are doing and you wouldn’t hear a peep.

The fact is average men and women receive average returns, and exceptional beauty and youth will always win out where successful older men are concerned.

Is it fair?


But pretending that “real men” don’t want younger women is delusion. That they want an equal is naive at best, disastrous at worst.

According to one NYC matchmaker, this is the normal course of things:

“I recently had a 78-year-old client who wouldn’t even consider a woman older than 50. If you are 25 years old as you are reading this, let me put this in perspective: That would be like dating a 55-year-old.

That brings me to why I can’t take on women as clients; and no, misogyny has nothing to do with it. In this tough singles market, if a man pays top dollar for a matchmaker, he expects nothing less than a 29-year-old model.  As a result, I cannot find a husband for a 47-year-old schoolteacher with two kids and three mortgages.”

So where do relatively pretty, average 40-plus women find men of means?

They don’t.

What they can and do find are men of equal value, which is not a particularly palatable prospect for most.

My recommendation to such women:

1] Join a book club.

2] Enroll in a continuing education class at a local college.

3] Attend art openings.

4] Get out of the house – maximize exposure.

5] Go back to therapy.

Nature is neither kind nor compassionate, but the good news is that there are exceptions to every rule.

Just not very many.

The “Gala”

11208572_961573263894048_1576230664_nThere was a time not long ago when I loved being the center of attention.

“Flatter flatter flatter!”

I was struggling through an endless series of speed bumps to nowhere that I medicated into oblivion through fleeting relationships and, still people clapped.

Of course, I was young and handsome and well spoken, and therefore, “in demand” as such things go.

These assets alone eclipsed whatever was absent everywhere else, as evidenced in the hostess-CEO paradigm.

So like others of my kind, I let the endorphin rushes fuel fantasies of where my new encounters might lead…night after night after night.

But as time passed and my career grew, I found that I needed more tangible affirmation in order to maintain self-esteem.

I was getting older and youth was no longer the hook. So what was?

It had to come from within, but how? as the need for external affirmation felt like an addiction to painkillers?

Where was that now lost screw that kept the joints rattling?

I was becoming unhinged.

Then, in my mid 50’s, I started coming out of it.

I was one of the lucky ones, as others around me lost everything to time, desperate moves and bad luck.

As cliché as it sounds, I began to find meaning in sharing my life with someone else, and everything else started to fade.

I started to find that going back to the social till bled a little more of me, leaving me empty and unfulfilled.

While I still appreciated public acknowledgement of my work, I saw it all very differently, as simple self-expression, a way of working through issues in my life, rather than a veiled quest for self-aggrandizement.

I know that for the most part, praise is just posturing, something people feel compelled to express in a particular social context.

But what really mattered to them was money and power.

Even when they are genuinely impressed with an artist’s work, their feelings are ephemeral, fleeting and largely meaningless.

They will move on to the next cocktail function, cherry-pick another item of interest, and on it will go, forever.

In the end, no one really cares unless they receive something of equal measure.

For most it’s the public acknowledgement that they are of powerful social standing, transcendent of art.

In their minds, they are the bedrock, the unassailable…oligarchs of an otherwise trivial world.

Of course, challenges do arise [to my great amusement], particularly when such people are in the company of the equally rich and very famous.

I love all the fraying at the edges of vanity as they maneuver themselves back into the ring.

We all find our niches in the world, places that affirm us, reflect our standings and values, that don’t obliterate our self-esteem.

I live in a neighborhood of my peers, and spend time socializing with people who, for the most part, share my values, beliefs and social standing.

I no longer need or want anything from anyone else.

I’m not here to take, but to share.

I have already paid my dues many times over and no longer walk into a situation with my hands out.

If people like what they see, if it has some meaning for them, great.

Either way, I am no longer willing to sell myself for anyone’s approval.

Socialites do what they do for personal gain.

Whether it’s Look at me, how wealthy I am, how extravagant my clothing, how elite my connections…or…How the hell do I get into this club so I can move out of my apartment, it’s a game I’m no longer willing to play.

For those of you who wish to gain access to the right parties, hosted by the right people with an eye on their bank accounts, you know where to go and what to do.

Bullet Points of Interest:

1] People tend to do what they do for personal gain, even when they are the ones “giving.”

2] Nothing is ever free, even when people are throwing something at you. 

3] Life is about checks and balances, usually literally.

4] People you like are usually those you’ve vetted over time, not people you meet at cocktail functions.

5] Fund raisers are usually a subtle dance around who’s got the biggest “dick,” both men and women.

6] Hanger’s on are like sous-chefs waiting for the big dog to fall into a vat of boiling grease.

7] Art is worth nothing to most people unless Christie’s auctions it.

8] Opportunism is gaining access to something you can’t find within yourself.

9] Everyone uses everyone for everything on some level, even if it’s a good laugh. So it’s all about levels.

10] While socialites serve a useful purpose in society, nobody cares who they are if they’re not raining money.

Venting is cathartic. It’s why I write and shoot pictures.

The 60’s All Over Again


Flash-back to a time in history where members of the counterculture movement expressed their beliefs about property ownership by destroying others ’ property, building fences around said property, and living in communes with shared possessions.

Yea, that went well.

Today the same dynamic exists.

The human food chain marches on, fueled by those who proclaim solidarity with “duh people” only to steal it by using them as leverage and then consolidating personal power at their expense.

People fall for this crap all the time, which begs the question, why have they not been bred out of the human gene pool?

Back in the the day, the ones who survived all the street riots and general unrest went on to make fortunes, built mansions with walls and security cameras, and kick everyone out but hired help and mistresses.

So basically, nothing’s changed.