It's Time to Take Action

My mom and dad are dirty, hippie, liberals - it's so embarrassing. My grandma Jan and I regularly correspond about the fact that my dad, in particular, is practically a socialist. "What will we do with him?" We often lament to one another. I tell my parents nearly every day - Taxes are terrible, people need to just go out and get jobs (just like I did, how do you think I became a billionaire?), interest rates for banks should be as low as possible, its not Walls Streets fault, and for gods sake start throwing people in jail for defaulting on student loans - they're the real scumbags. But they just don't listen.

 Anyway, I was musing things over this weekend and I was in a particularly good mood (I had just played a fantastic prank on Putin), when I came up with a plan to combat my parents communist ways and all of their counterparts out there bleeding this country dry. So without much further ado, I'd like to make the following announcement.....











I HEREBY NOMINATE MYSELF TO BE CANDIDATE DONALD TRUMP'S RUNNING MATE!**

Riding to victory

Thinking about victory 

** Photographic credit to my Campaign Director, Graphic Designer, and PR Guru, Greg Williams

Stacking the Deck

Several weeks ago, my mother and her fiancé went to the Preakness Stakes in Baltimore. I was going to go with them, but then I saw where their seats were located and after a rare outburst of laughter, I declined.  After all, for me to be seen in that area of the grandstand does nothing but diminish the public image I have painstakingly built. It could be perceived as weakness, or worse, as an unnecessary concession to those around me.  After declining the offer, my mother made the absurd decision to have my aunt watch me for the night. As if I require a babysitter.  I don't know what my mother was thinking; she surely must have lost her mind.

Shortly after arriving at my aunts I decided there was absolutely no way I would stay the evening, to cause myself such profound suffering was fruitless.  There are two kinds of pain.  The sort of pain that makes you strong, or useless pain.  The sort of pain that's only suffering.  I have no patience for useless things.  So I devised a plan to extract myself from the situation.  I needed to make my Aunt think it was her idea to call my mother.  If it were her own conception, she was far more likely to accomplish her goal.  It wasn't difficult, for proximity to power deludes some into thinking they wield it.

Over the next few hours I used every trick in the book. I paced, I moaned and lamented, I crowded her space, sighing in frustration and constant dissatisfaction.  I allowed my eyes to well up with moisture, I even went so far as to actually weep.  I know what' you're thinking, what sort of man who holds himself out as possessing incredible power and prowess would stoop to these levels? What sort of man would behave this way all the while being openly critical of the weakness he seems around him? Do you think I'm a hypocrite? Well, you should. I wouldn't disagree with you.  The road to power is paved with hypocrisy. And casualties. Never regret.

And I have no regrets. At 10 pm my Aunt called my mother, who was still in Baltimore.  She said, in exasperation, "Diggy is extremely distraught.  He's whined all day, he's been pacing.  I think he's just really upset being separated from you. Could you come back tonight and pick him up?"  Hearing those words, I felt my mouth form into a content smile.  Let it be a lesson, if you don't like how the table is set, turn over the table.

My mother arrived 45 minutes later and we returned home. 

Three Hours I Can Never Get Back

This past Saturday marks one of the most undignified days I've experienced in a long, long, while.  I blame my mother. She asked if I wanted to go to brunch. Of course I want to go to brunch.  After all, brunch is civilized, is it not? Naturally I assumed we would be brunching at The Ritz Carlton, or Fiola Mare, or maybe even some new trendy restaurant (although I do prefer a more classic venue).   With that said, I agreed to join her and in doing so I lost three precious hours of my life that I can never regain. 

We hopped into the car and wove our way through the streets of Alexandria. Sidebar - I'm not sure I mentioned this, I probably didn't because I find it very embarrassing, but my mom and her special friend moved to an abysmally small condo in Old Town.  I offered them an $850,000 loan so they could get something mildly decent but they declined. They said my 28% APR was unmanageable. I said not employing good business practices was unmanageable, and well, we left it at that. Anyway, after a relatively short amount of time we pulled to a stop on a small side street full of dilapidated row homes. My mom looked over at me, "aren't these townhouses adorable, Diggy?"  Her statement was so ridiculously absurd that I could barely look at her.

We walked into the house and out into the backyard. I would have preferred the yard to be larger so I could put some distance between myself and the house occupants, but I was at a loss.  With nothing else to do I began to explore the grounds. I noted the absence of any discernible landscape architecture and the sub-par construction of the deck.  While the grounds were truly heinous, what was most troubling was the lack of stimulating conversation over the next three hours.  My mom, absolutely in her element, discussed mindless things such as weddings, television shows, and celebrity gossip.  No one discussed the stock market, no one discussed the effect the Ukraine-Russia conflict could have on oil prices, no one talked about anything.

I would have left, but I don't have my driver's license, I've never really seen the need for one.

Career Advice From Diggy: Episode One

There is so much you can learn from a successful person. So many invaluable tips that the simply cannot be realized in day-to-day life.  I have reached the point in my own career where my advice, my profound insight, and my expertise can benefit the everyday ordinary man.  I've been approached by many prestigious publications, Forbes, The Economist, Vogue, just to name a few. But I passed each and every single one of them up and instead am offering my seven-figure-worthy advice for free.

Now, because I am an expert in so many fields, I will be doing a three-part series in an effort to truly relate to and reach the masses.  This first episode focuses on creativity and the value it plays in your career.  Readers, you are probably thinking "Diggy is a world renowned entrepreneur and billionaire, what could he possibly know about creativity?" Yes, the former is true but what you may not know about me is that I am the brains behind a creative culinary empire.

In the winter of 1988 I stayed at a charming hotel in the French Alps. The hotel was called Hotel Diva and its kitchen was run by a chef named Albert Roux. After an exquisite meal I simply had to meet the responsible culinary genius.  Anticipating a conversation with the head chef, I was shocked to meet a young blond man hailing from Scotland.  Knowing how important it is to encourage the youth, I complimented the young chef on delighting my palate and then asked if he'd like to join me for a post dinner brandy.  Of course this was highly out of the ordinary, but given my status and the vintage wines I had purchased with the meal, the young chef agreed.

What transpired was a conversation that went well into the evening.  This young man had ambition and talent, but lacked the necessary funds to succeed.  In that moment I decided to take a leap. Over the next few years I encouraged the young chef to return to London and facilitated a head chef position and minority ownership in a successful restaurant.  After receiving Michelin status I decided it was time for my culinary prodigy to open a restaurant in his own name.  The restaurant was named Gordon Ramsay Restaurant.


"Seeing potential behind valuable
youth is invaluable" - Diggy

Our relationship has flourished and with Gordon's expertise and my savvy, his singular restaurant has exploded into a world-wide empire. I won't reveal my percentage of ownership, but let's just say its substantial. 



"Failure is not an option, it's a choice." - Diggy

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself" - Diggy





Big Brother

It’s been nearly 5 months since my last post. I’ve just been so busy; I haven’t even found a spare moment to pick up my dry cleaning.  As you all know, I’m an extremely successful entrepreneur, a leading figure in Texas’ libertarian party, a staunch capitalist, and in the process of completing my PhD in neurophysiology.  There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with my various obligations but somehow I manage not only stay afloat, but dominate in everything I do.  Given my success, I believe that it is fair to assume that I am extremely intelligent, overwhelmingly capable, and exceedingly logical.  Ordinarily no problem is too big to tackle, no puzzle too difficult to solve, and nothing unsettles me…..until recently.

Over the past few months I’ve begun to notice something peculiar.  My mom always seems to know how I spend my days.  Two to three times a week I’d return from an outing and she’d say “oh, hello there Diggy, how was your drive?” At first I didn’t think much of it, but then as time wore on I thought to myself, how does she know I went on a drive? How does she know which park I went to do read my various scholarly journals? How does she know that I had attended a conference in Washington, DC? Rapidly my curiosity turned to alarm, after all – I’m no fool, surveillance is everywhere these days.  The notion of privacy has dissipated and the evolution of 'smart' technology has all but robbed me of my liberty. 

By this point I had nearly worked myself into a full-blown panic.  Sure I had installed topnotch security on my multiple laptops, sure I had anti-theft and intrusion devices, but was that enough to protect my proprietary information? I anxiously paced from the spacious, luxurious, living room into the regal office.  Just when I thought I couldn’t work myself up any further, I noticed something on my mom’s computer that pushed me over the edge and into full-on hysteria.

I would expect this from my government. But I would never expect this from my mom.  I'm speechless. 

The Worst 24 Hours OF MY LIFE

Last weekend I suffered through the worst 24 hours of my life.  Never before have I struggled as I did that day.  Never before have I been so frozen from pure horror.  Never before have I realized that my mom, the person I love more than anyone and anything in the entire vast universe, could be so cruel.  I wanted to share this experience immediately but you see, it has taken me an entire week to recover and to formulate the words to adequately describe my experience.

Last weekend, my mom and my mom's special friend took me camping in 40 degree weather.

Here is short-list of my favorite things:
1. My mom
2. Chewing socks
3. Rolling on stuff that smells bad
4. Sleeping really really late
5. Being EXTREMELY comfortable. 
6. Being EXTREMELY warm.

So, with this in mind, let me describe my 24 hours in hell.

The day started off poorly.  My mom woke me up at 6:30 in the morning, which was unacceptable (see number 4 on "the list).  But I'll admit, as my mom and her special friend began to load all sorts of things into the car I became very curious.  And then, she got my leash and what can I say, the inner dog in me just lost it- wherever they were going they were taking me with them!!! One moment I was exhausted and completely morose, then just like that I was on top of the world. Well, we drove for about an hour.  I sat in the backseat amongst all sorts of hard, awful, uncomfortable things and after 40 minutes of fretting and fidgeting and trying to find something soft to lay on, I gave up - I just could not get comfortable, which I found very upsetting (see number 5 on "the list").  Surely, I thought, things would pick up.  But oh how naive I was.

Exhausted, trying to get comfy. 

About 30 minutes later we pulled into what I'll describe as a clearing in a vast Arctic tundra.  My mom and her special friend began to unload the car, they opened the door and a sudden, shocking blast of frigid air hit me square in the face.  I recoiled in horror, this was not what I had signed up for, this was not why I agreed to move to Texas.  My mom forced me out of the car and I stood there shaking uncontrollably. It must have been 50 degrees outside, I don't know how people live like that.   I tried to follow my mom into the arctic clearing but I could barely move. She took out an underarmour shirt and fashioned what I can only imagine was a straight jacket for me, tying the arms around my doggy waist to hold it in place.  While some canines enjoy dog outerwear, I truly loathe any form of clothing.  I can be on top of the world, jumping out of my skin with happiness and the moment you put an article of clothing on me my entire body will seize up and I simply am unable to move.  So you see, things were just getting worse.  I tried to walk, despite the restrictions of a straight jacket and as time wore on (hours) I finally was able to adjust my gait to to look somewhat normal and I no longer had to hear my mom's special friend yelling "he's taking geisha sized steps."

My straight jacket.

The hours wore on and on and on and it got colder and colder. Probably 45 degrees. At one point my mom wrapped me in a blanket in front of the fire but with my nose exposed I just couldn't warm up.  It was terrible.  Then finally, around 8 pm, after literally 10 hours of pure torture, my mom turned on the car, cranked the heat to 85, put a blanket in the back seat and locked me.  Pure. Bliss.

That night, with the arctic winds raging and the skies pouring freezing cold rain - I managed to make it through (while swaddled in blankets).

In hell. 

November 16th: The Day I Turned Four

Hello everyone, I'd like to begin this post by thanking my friends, family and fans.  In particular, I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming enthusiasm on Facebook on Friday November 16th from my California friends.  I can only assume it was in celebration of my 4th birthday, and for that I thank you.  I wish I could have been there but as it turns out I've moved to Texas.

Several months ago, unbeknownst to me, my mom and her special friend made a huge decision to move to another state.   The week leading up to the move I watched somewhat anxiously (I'm ashamed to admit) as their belongings began to move from the closet to the floor then haphazardly shoved in boxes.  I watched my mom grow more and more frantic and noted her increasing tendency to become weepy over things like her last trip to her regular Safeway.  My mom's special friend however handled things very differently, he was neither frantic nor weepy and that gave me a sense of reassurance.  After all, surely if a big change was about to happen he would turn off the monitor and stop playing Skyrim. Then, one day four strange men arrived and began hauling all the boxes to a large truck.  I followed them eagerly, careful to note their packing procedures and how they handled the items.  Eventually, after the items were all packed up, my anxiety began to build.  Where were they going? Was I going with them? If not, would they return? So many enormous questions tumbled through my highly intellectual mind but alas, I had no answers.....

As it turns, out I had NOTHING to worry about.  My mom and her special friend apparently were planning an amazing surprise just for me.  A few short days later we got into the car and began a tour of the nations southwestern gas stations. It. was. amazing.  I was simply ecstatic at every single gas station.  I couldn't help myself, 500 yards out I would begin to shake then 400 yards I would start to whine then 300 I would shake and whine then finally as we pulled in I would howl, unable to contain my excitement.  This spectacular trip continued for 4 days, every day filled with fantastic gas stations and every night at a hotel room where my mom appropriately would get me my own bed.

Arizona Exxon 

At the end of the trip we arrived in Texas and we stayed there, more on that later.

After I successfully presented my dissertation to
the board.