I’m 69 years old.
Most guys my age are retiring.
Fuck that.
I’m running for mayor.
I started a political movement.
I’m starting businesses.
I’m doing stand-up comedy.
At 69, I looked at my life and said:
“What does this need?”
More cowbell.
Apparently my retirement plan is just—
more shit to do.
My friends are checking their 401(k)s.
I’m checking whether anybody laughed at my fucking Instagram Reel.
This is not how Social Security was designed.
But here’s the weird thing:
I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
And I think I finally figured out why.
I discovered the secret to happiness.
It’s not money.
It’s not success.
It’s not fucking mindfulness.
I tried mindfulness.
I sat there quietly for twenty minutes thinking:
“Am I fucking mindful yet?”
No.
The secret is strangers.
Talking to people.
Actual human beings.
And Gen Z, I fucking love you guys—but you are fascinating.
You have 4,000 followers…
and three people you’ll answer the phone for.
Your phone rings and you look at it like:
“What kind of fucking emergency is THIS?”
Nobody calls anymore.
A phone call now feels aggressive.
If I call somebody under 30, they don’t answer.
Thirty seconds later I get a text:
“What’s up?”
WHAT’S UP?!
I JUST FUCKING CALLED YOU!
That’s what’s up!
So I have invented a revolutionary new social-media platform.
I think Gen Z is going to love this.
It’s called:
OUTSIDE.
Anybody tried it?
OUTSIDE is fucking incredible.
No app.
No password.
No subscription.
No terms of service you scroll through and click “accept” even though you may have just legally donated a kidney to Mark Zuckerberg.
And the algorithm?
Fucking unbelievable.
You walk down the street…
and instead of showing you something that made you angry yesterday…
it shows you—
a fucking tree.
Then it shows you a dog.
Then a coffee shop.
Then some dude wearing Crocs with socks.
The algorithm is like:
“I don’t know, John. Figure it the fuck out.”
And OUTSIDE has this incredible feature.
You can walk up to another human being and say:
“Hi I’m John”
And get this—
they fucking tell you!
Immediately!
No username.
No profile.
No blue check.
No CAPTCHA:
“Select every square containing a traffic light to prove you’re not a robot.”
I don’t need to prove they’re human.
They’re standing right fucking there!
And then something even crazier happens.
You ask:
“Where are you from?”
And they tell you.
Then you ask another question.
And suddenly—
you’re having a fucking conversation.
Remember those?
It’s like a podcast…
except both people get to talk.
And there’s no ad for fucking meal kits halfway through it.
I started doing this.
Talking to strangers everywhere.
Young people.
Old people.
Bartenders.
Waitresses.
People walking dogs.
People sitting alone.
People who agree with me.
People who absolutely do not agree with me.
And I discovered something fucking amazing:
Everybody has a story.
Everybody.
That guy you walked past?
Story.
Woman sitting by herself?
Story.
Kid with headphones on?
Story.
Old guy staring into space at Starbucks?
Probably asleep.
Check his pulse first.
But then ask him his story.
And here’s what really fucked with me.
Sometimes I’ll talk to somebody for five minutes…
and they’ll tell me something I’ve never thought about in 69 fucking years.
Five minutes!
I’ve been alive almost seven decades.
I’ve survived bell-bottoms twice.
I watched television when you had to physically get off the couch to change the fucking channel.
I have accumulated some shit.
And some 23-year-old can still say something that makes me go:
“Holy fuck. I never thought about it like that.”
That’s the juice.
That’s what I’ve been missing.
Because we’ve built this world where everybody is connected…
and somehow everybody feels alone.
We know what somebody in Los Angeles ate for breakfast…
but we don’t know the name of the person living three doors down.
We have followers.
Friends.
Likes.
Shares.
Comments.
Notifications.
And sometimes we’re starving for one thing:
somebody to actually fucking see us.
That’s what happens when you talk to strangers.
For five minutes, you’re saying:
“I see you.”
“You matter.”
“Tell me something.”
And sometimes they say something funny.
Sometimes something heartbreaking.
Sometimes something completely fucking insane.
That’s the beauty of it.
You don’t know what you’re going to get.
There’s no algorithm deciding what comes next.
Life comes next.
And that’s what I finally understand at 69.
I spent years thinking happiness was something you eventually achieved.
Get the job.
Make the money.
Buy the house.
Raise the kids.
Retire.
Then someday you unlock happiness like it’s the final fucking level of a video game.
Bullshit.
Happiness isn’t waiting at the finish line.
It’s happening in these tiny moments between people.
It’s your neighbor.
It’s the bartender.
It’s the kid sitting beside you.
It’s somebody completely different from you who tells you something you needed to hear.
It’s the weird old guy who walks up and starts talking to you.
I’m the weird old guy.
And I’m having the fucking time of my life.
Because at 69, I don’t want a smaller world.
I want a bigger one.
I want more people.
More conversations.
More ideas.
More laughter.
More weird shit.
More cowbell.
I don’t want to wind down.
I want to wake the fuck up.
So here’s my advice to Gen Z:
Every once in a while…
put the phone in your pocket.
Walk outside.
Look around.
Find somebody you don’t know.
And say:
“Hey. What’s your name?”
Because the fucking world isn’t hiding inside your phone.
It’s standing right next to you.
Talk to it.
I’m 69.
I’m not retiring.
I’m not checking out.
I’m not waiting for life to happen.
I’m out here meeting people, starting things, making noise and showing up.
So if you see me, say hello.
I’ll tell you my name.
And congratulations—
you just fucking logged in.
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