RyanHoliday.net: - February 21, 2008

Here we have a man worth nearly 100 million dollars. A man with what seems like a wonderful family. A man who is 59 years old. The front man of one of the biggest rock bands ever. A man with more money than he will ever need.

But nevertheless, here he is, having sex in t-shirt with a woman who can't even bring herself to kiss him, throwing away all that bullshit about being a good father. All for a few minutes of awkward pleasure in a hotel room; looking like a pathetic dork because he doesn't have any restraint.

It's easy to laugh and say "what a self-promoter" but really what we see is an emptiness of magnificent proportions. Or point out that he's in an open relationship like that negates him being an old man and so clearly still desperate for validation. He couldn't even turn down a shot to be on Celebrity Apprentice, even though arguably, he's more famous and successful than Donald Trump. Have you seen his Cribs? He invites Fred Durst over in the middle so we could marvel at his cool friend - and boy, did that stand the test of time. More than anything, Gene Simmons is sad and broken and pathetic. And a constant reminder that before we indulge in pleasures, we should step back and incisively look at the strike price at which we hold our dignity. Because it doesn't matter how much you earn, or what you've accomplished, or the square footage of your house you go home to, none of it will ever be more than an unnecessary extremity compared to that.

For me, I'm moving forward based on the following assumption: When you die, you take self-respect with you and the rest stays behind - it was never in your possession to begin with.

Further reading:
The Broken American Male--Rabbi Schmuley Boteach
The Essential Epicurus--Eugene O'Connor (translator)

Posted by ryanholiday at 5:20 PM