Category: Writing

WHAT CAN 44 BILLION BUY? by Art Smukler, MD, author & psychiatrist

by artsmuklermd, posted in Psychiatry, Self Examination, World events, a psychological view, Writing

Well, it can of course buy Twitter. Just ask Elon Musk. Is it fun, Mr. Musk, having millions of people furious that you have so much control? I don’t think that it really bothers him. Perhaps being the richest man in the world or sadly now the 2nd richest, buys a lot of FU money? Also, he can afford the mere 44 bill. If you’re angry at him, just drop off Twitter. Not so complicated. If everyone ignored Twitter it would soon be worth 0 Billion. On the other hand, he really makes a great car. Seriously, Tesla is terrific. Spend your time reading about E cars and ignore Twitter. Maybe that’s the solution?

But, let’s think about it. What can 44 billion buy? 20 or so Empire State buildings. Really! It would cost approximately 1.4 billion to buy one.

It can buy ocean liners, many many planes, Fortune 100 companies like Kraft and Ford etc., thousands of houses, it can get millions of homeless people off the street, build dozens and dozens of acute psychiatric hospitals, and on and on.

So everyone. Come up with a new good idea. Make some money. Buy what you want. If people are angry that you’re driving around in a Tesla rather than a beater, that’s their problem. It would also be nice if you donated your new found millions and billions to build psychiatric hospitals and help get the psychiatrically ill a safe place to get treatment so they can pay it back and become productive and happy.

Also, buy NINE NORTH and THE REAL STORY. You’ll love them.

#44billion #elonmusk #Twitter #Insidethemindofapsychiatrist #NINENORTH #THE REALSTORY

PAGE 1 OR DONE! by Art Smukler, MD, author & psychiatrist

by artsmuklermd, posted in Psychiatry, Self Examination, Writing

CHAPTER 1

TRUTH OR FANTASY?

Two years and one day after Nelson Bennett died, he rose from the dead.

Amidst the hundreds of people strolling down the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, California he stood alone, hair dark brown, not prematurely gray like it used to be, and at least thirty pounds lighter.

“Nelson!” Jake yelled. “Nelson!” The man was about fifty feet away – close enough for Jake to clearly make out his features; far enough for Jake to wonder if he was hallucinating. There was no way Jake could ever forget or mistake Nelson’s face. It was the face of his older brother, his only brother and only sibling.

The man turned, stared straight at Jake, his blue eyes locking onto Jake’s blue eyes. Abruptly, he glanced over his shoulder, a startled look transforming his gaunt, clean-shaven face, and he placed his index finger in front of his lips. Then he pivoted, and like a snowflake landing on a hot windshield, melted away.

“Stop!” Jake hollered, shoving past two young couples walking in front of him, pushing his way through the endless crowd of people toward the spot where Nelson’s image had vanished.

There in front of the designer eyeglass store, Jake stretched his six-foot frame and stood on his tiptoes to see over the passing crowd. No sign of Nelson anywhere. How could there be? Nelson’s ashes were sitting on a shelf in his closet.

Jake took a deep breath and broke into a run. He knew his behavior was absurd and that Nelson was dead. He also knew what he had just seen.

That’s the rule when you’re not John Grisham, Michael Connolly, or Nelson DeMille etc. To join their hallowed ranks, you need readers, and to get readers you have to immediately engage them.

Like the first page of NINE NORTH? Click to buy it.

Love the book? Tell friends. Go on Amazon. Thanks in advance. Art

#Mysteythriller #lovestory #hidingonapsychunit #Hassidiclife