My last blog was the most groundbreaking to date and seemingly hit a sensitive spot on how sexy yoga was these days. Lets do a quick recap:
- Joan Rivers is the wisest and kindest person on this planet.
- I do not have anger management issues, but I do have a very low tolerance of some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John.
- I also have a very low tolerance of those so-called yogic assholes who talk like they are the second coming of Jesus while shooting rainbow-coloured gerbils out of their asses.
- We discovered the new energy lock called Moolah Bandha. It's madly powerful, not even Mr. Iyengar can fully control it.
I want to try something different, something that I never do. I'll share a disturbing story with y'all. I guess you can say this story is partially the inspiration of this blog. A couple of weeks ago while at work... yes, many thanks to my actual paying job that enables me to speak the truth... anyway, a co-worker named One-eye Gord followed me to the washroom while yammering and nattering about his yeast infection or something. Once inside the washroom, One-eye Gord proceeded to the cubicle on the right as he seemingly preferred, and began the epic movement of his innards without stopping his monolog that he thought I was listening to. Yes, he was talking to me the entire time while dislodging his logs into the ceramic bowl. You see, I'm just old-fashioned that way. I don't talk to anyone who is taking a piss or shit in a public washroom, or less than 10-ft away even behind a bush of juniper. Seriously, engaging me in conversations while I'm *releasing* in a public washroom suggests that 1) you might be into anonymous sex in public places, and 2) you are a socially inept idiot. I consider the 42 seconds of urination or 17 minutes of defecation my very own intimate moment, when bonding with anyone or of any kind is neither allowed nor appropriate. This includes texting your friends while you are doing number 2, unless you are sending them photos with a caption that says "Look What I Just Made".
While I was trying to escape the washroom, something extremely nauseating dawned on me: some people are like zombies. They don't ever seem to go away, or let you be, and always try to be part of a pack by infecting others, or be infected by others. They fail to understand that sometimes people just want to do their own thing without interference from others. Really! I don't need to be part of a pack to do something that's personal and sacred to me, or perhaps I only want to share it with only a few people... like really!
In addition to Moolah Bandha, another phenomenon called Yoga Zombie was discovered recently as well. This is not the same as yoga animals, which people would do non-stop asana practice until they look like Joan Rivers. Yoga Zombies are yogis who engage too much Moolah Bandha, overdose on ego and become the undead. They are like that tiny little bit of poop that seemingly no amount of toilet paper can remove from your anus. These undead hunt in packs and try to recruit free roaming yogis by infecting them with their own brands of venom. Also interestingly, these packs are competing with each other.
I just don't understand this yoga branding mentality... well, I kind of do. Once again, it's about Moolah Bandha. Latch onto that gravy train while you can, and not just any gravy train but a brand-name gravy train. It's also about having the biggest
How about a Costco or Walmart of Yoga? A chain? A franchise? A shopping mall?
"Welcome to McYoga, may I take your order?"
Is brand-name really better than no-name? Branding breeds segregation, which is ironic because in the Sanskrit world, "yoga" means "to unite". Imagine this conversation in a job interview:
"Where did you get your Bachelor degree?"
"Sorry, we only accept graduates from M.I.T. or Yale. Our corporate principal of alignment does not agree with Harvard's way of teaching physics."
"But physics is physics."
"Sorry, we only recognized brand-name physics. Generic physics is less effective."
Also to a point that both Joan Rivers and I have repeatedly made: a certificate issued by a self-appointed certification committee means absolutely fuck all. Yoga teachers are not like lawyers or engineers which are legally required to be certified by or registered with their professional organizations. These certificates to teach yoga have no real bearing on anything. I can start my own Sarcastic Hatha Institute of Tantrika, or S.H.I.T., and issue S.H.I.T. certificates to anyone, for a licensing fee of course, to teach S.H.I.T. certified karaoke yoga immersion retreats. The fact is, a piece of paper does not a good yoga teacher make. Many resigned 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc. certified teachers were already great teachers before they got that piece of paper with that ugly logo. I am so glad that many of them are now roaming freely. May be some day, they will get together again and build a new village. And may be some day, those yoga zombies would realize that they too can roam free and they don't need to be in a pack.
Fast forward some more...
History does repeat itself. Two packs of yoga zombies are now duking it out for the free-roaming yogis and what's left of the brand-name gravy train.
The Zombie Network is led by Bear Rugburn and six other dwarfs. Bear Rugburn apparently is the spokesperson of The Zombie Network because we never hear diddly squat from the other six. He's also suffering from the "Pretty Boy Syndrome", which is unfortunate because I've always had a
The other pack of undead named Team Auspicious Gross is led by Crusty Nono Myass and her army of shrimongers and investors. Obviously I am like so like totally a fan of these sexy angels.They are the
To sum it up, both are banking on the free roaming yogis have Stockholm syndrome, and will run right back to the abusers. Both think they are the authority to certify people to teach yoga. Both really want to engage our Moolah Bandha. I think I'll pass.
Ok, time for a disclaimer: "Bear Rugburn" and "Crusty Nono Myass" are merely personification of two new breeds of yoga zombies. They are not real people and I make no references to anyone specific. If you think I'm talking about you, you are wrong and a narcissist. Not everything is about you, asshole.
I'll close with this clip. It's about someone, who works for Dr. Evil, just won't die. The last 4 seconds is a real gem.