On Financial Freedom (and Obtaining a GFY Fund)


Self-reliant Badass Tortoise

A respectable Badass of the highest order owes no one, unless, of course, said Badass acknowledges, takes responsibility for, and willingly agrees to said debt.

A true Badass also acknowledges nothing is owed to a Badass individual. Like one of those Agassiz’s desert tortoises–self-reliant little Badass bastards, they are.

. . . . .

Though we aren’t taught this shit in school (due to the main priority being training us to be good little consumers as we are barraged with ads and such), a trade secret in life is this: every Badass invests in a GFY Fund.

Don’t know what that is, Boss? Let me explain.

Imagine for a second that money (or lack there of) is no issue in your life. Bills are paid, car loan is non-existent, credit card is current, retirement fund is growing, and your ass is planning your next vacation to some dreamy, exotic destination. Can you feel that wonderful, comforting, magical shit? Shine sweet freedom, says that smooth Badass, Michael McDonald. And so soon will you, Sensei. Just wait.

In this scenario, you might love your job and not desire to lose it, but if the company decides to do a mass layoff with your successful ass included in the goodbye-bunch, it won’t kill you. You won’t panic. Your panties will not be in a twist. You won’t gingerly walk in to your office each day, heart pumping a million miles per second, fearing they will “let you go”. Hells to the no. You’ve got skills and you’ve got back-up.

But let’s face it–for most of us, this shit is not the case.

It’s a fuckin’ dream land, a fantasy,” you say.

Hang in there with me for a second, Captain.

Admit it: some shit we buy purely to be noticed, to look tough, to be accepted–often stemming from being barraged by ads telling us “how we should be” during our vulnerable childhood years (lying bastards!). And what does that make us do? It forces us to be slaves to the economy.

It feels good after a tough week working under a narcissistic asshole to go out drinking and shopping at the weekend (in order to “reward ourselves”). But then, as is secretly and carefully designed, we must begrudgingly return on Monday to the asshole employer, endure abuses, then keep our mouths shut so we can keep our jobs to keep paying for the shit we buy to “reward ourselves” for dealing with the bullshit.

I call this the Bullshit Cycle.

“Just how does one Badass avoid the Bullshit Cycle?” you ask.

I can’t wait to tell you, Sport.

What your ass needs is to invest in a GFY Fund. (When teaching this shit to the kids–as you should–feel free to call it a Freedom Fund instead.) A Go-Fuck-Yourself Fund is money set aside in an account that enables you to say “Go Fuck Yourself” (in words, in actions, and/or in attitude) to assholes and others you no longer choose to align your Badass self with: whether they be bosses, significant others, roommates, parents, or the like.

Roommate’s cat pissed in your shoes again? Don’t get mad. It’s OK. You can move the fuck out. Why? You have a GFY Fund.

Live-in boyfriend is starting to question your every wherabouts more and more, showing up unannounced at after-work gatherings with friends, and you’re sick of finding his sticky piss all around the toilet seat and floor (because, why the fuck don’t all men sit on the toilet when they piss at home? This ain’t no goddamned urinal!)? No worries. It’s OK. You can smile and move the fuck out. Why? Because your smart little ass has a GFY Fund.

Employer is on your ass 24/7, manipulating you into working inhumane hours (and not paying you for that shit) all the while heaping non-deserved insults at your sorry ass on the daily? You can give a powerful “no” to that shit. You can ask for more money, set hours, and respect. Or, you can pack up your sweet valuables, Jedi, then moonwalk the fuck out of that toxic environment so your asshole employer can see your grinning face as you gracefully depart. Why? Because your well-prepared ass has a muthafuckin’ GFY Fund, baby.

“How does one obtain one of these GFY Funds?” you ask.

Good question, Sparky.

Let me first ask you this: What are you willing to temporarily sacrifice in order to build yourself a GFY Fund cushion, and therefore a more fulfilled life?

Do you buy coffee every morning? That’s about $2,200 a year, Player. What if you made that shit at home for a few years in order to build your GFY Fund?

Netflix, Amazon, Hulu–how much are you paying for that shit every month when you can get your entertainment (DVDs, CDs, books, etc.) from the local library (or by walking your lazy ass out in nature)? Your hermit ass might even meet someone there. Think about that potent shit for a moment.

Is that expensive car lease giving you true happiness or committing you to more days working for that heartless, mean-ass bastard? Think about this shit: a Mercedes will get you to work; a Honda will get a much deserved vacation, Rockstar. And better yet, a more fulfilled life.

How much do you make per hour? Let’s say, for example, that amount is $20/hour. Every $20 you DON’T spend on unnecessary shit (a sweater to wear as your slave uniform at that terrible job you have, for instance), is one hour you don’t need to work for the heartless, mean-ass tyrant of an employer.

Get it?

So the how is this: every dime you spend, you must ask yourself, “Is this item worth my putting up with ___ many hours of the Bullshit Cycle? Or can I invest this amount in my GFY Fund? Then, BOOM. Your GFY Fund either grows or stays as is. Your choice, Partner.

You can only grow your GFY Fund by putting your own health, happiness, and well-being first.

Yippee ki-yay, you little Badass, you.

On Clear and Honest Communication


A Badass individual understands communication is not limited to the verbal form, but is more honestly found in the actions of one’s self and of others. Like some Badass wild animals, and shit.

. . . . .

“Always listen to your teacher and do what he says.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“You had better listen to your Nana.”

Did you ever get sick of that “listen” bullshit when you were a kid? You bet your sweet ass you did, Scout. Because when we were children, we were still in tune to all types of natural communication that occurs in humans and animals alike so we often knew straight away when someone was full of shit and should be avoided, ignored, or escaped from entirely.

“But I don’t like him mommy! He’s a scary man!”

“Get your ass over there and say hi to Mr. Rupert, this instant!”

“But, but, but . . . “

Then, over time, our innocent little asses were domesticated. We were broken like wild horses until we could no longer trust our own instincts but instead were trained to place importance on the words of others, like good little submissive puppets should. (And every Badass knows good little puppets shut up, work really hard, and go into debt by buying lots of shit to make the sting of shutting up feel better all the while making a very few people very, very rich.)

“I’m so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again,” said for the fifth time.

“No one will ever love you like I do,” said following a terrible insult.

“You’ll never get anywhere in this world. You’re a loser.” said by a Class A dumb ass.

In our domesticated state of mind we often choose to trust words and ignore actions. Again and again we return to the unnatural, the unsafe, the unhealthy—like a fly returns to a hot, steaming pile of caca. Some asshole insults you again and again, and yet their apology, to your washed brain, represents hope that said asshole will change. Well, how about we call bullshit on that theory right now? Because that’s exactly what it is: Bullshit.

Someone who loves you will naturally make mistakes (accidentally forgets a birthday, shows up 10 minutes late to a lunch, spills tea on your favorite rug, steps in dog shit and enters your vehicle) and of course you forgive them. But another asshole discourages every great idea you have, makes you feel bad about yourself, and plays manipulative games of praise and punishment. Guess what? That stupid ass is giving you the greatest gift one can give—honesty. This bastard is showing you his or her true colors and now it is up to you to take that gift of honesty and make a choice—address the actions and give a chance or walk the fuck away, with your dignity intact. That’s power back in your hands, Superstar. That’s badass.


Some people are supportive, loving, loyal, and make great friends. These folks, Player, are worthy of being your tribe.

Others charm their way into your life and make you feel like a juicy ass turd. Like a sneaky snake ate your sorry ass up and shat you right back out.

The Badass knows the difference.

We humans think we’re so very clever. And yet the Badass animals of the Serengeti, or even the ones howling and yapping just beyond our own back yards know that we are a stupid-ass species as we ignore the gift we’ve been freely given at birth—the ability to quickly determine friend or foe through our own observations and intuition. A Badass individual is honest by being authentic with oneself and with others. A Badass communicates with actions.

“How does that shit look?” you ask.

  • I respect you as a person, so I show up on time.
  • I respect me as a person so I don’t hang around and support the actions of ignorant, hateful people.
  • I respect the planet so I don’t waste shit.
  • I’m a kind motherfucker so I don’t linger in the passing lane on the highway when I’m not planning on passing your slow ass.

If we’d just shut our pie holes for a moment and look up from our technological brain suck devices, we could observe and trust our observations to keep us safe and protect us from liars, narcissists, emotional manipulators, and worse—bonafide assholes. We could take a step out of our desperate dream land and not only regain the ability to use our own Badass intuition to keep us away from the riff-raff, but also to guide us toward the good, the loving, the kind ass bitches (who are everywhere, by the way—just look up) who rather than discourage us from reaching our full potential, are running right along side us in that marathon of sweet dreams, Tiger, with a wink and a high five.