From:
North of Jewfish Creek

Dear Friend & Subscriber,

   Sometimes I wonder about myself.

   Have you ever seen a waterspout? They are small intense tornados that occur over water. I heard somewhere the winds in those things have been clocked at speeds in excess of 370 miles per hour.

   Waterspouts are terrifying and terribly destructive. One of the bravest men I've ever known was once reduced to a frightened, sobbing, begging-to-God little child when a boat he was in got overtaken by one of these fiends of nature. Down in the Keys, they called this guy "Little Boy" because he was the opposite. He was a huge, smelly monster of a man and sometimes, he would run my father's lobster boat (the "Black Cat") when my Dad had it down in Marathon. I can still remember standing on the dock at Faro Blanco Marina and looking up at him sitting confident and arrogant in the captain's chair on the flybridge with his huge forearms resting on the steering wheel. This guy was a throwback to the caveman days and there was no subtlety or artifice about him whatsoever.

   He operated almost 100% on the "lizard brain" imprinted somewhere in the cerebral cortex of all human beings.

   But that waterspout sure brought him to his knees. The way he told it, the boat turned into a whirling spinning nightmare of uncontrolled violence. It was as though the hand of God had reached down from the heavens, seized the boat and began shaking it more violently than a level seven earthquake does to a home which has been built under specs.

   I've been afraid of waterspouts ever since I first saw one and heard my father and others telling horror stories about them.

   Inevitably, I ran into one. I was on my dive boat, the "Original Sea Hunt" when one appeared out of nowhere about 100 yards off the bow. It was a little one, a "baby" just in the formative stages. At that point, it was a frenzied circle of wind maybe 12 feet high. Looking up to the sky, I could see another spout of wind coming down from a dark cloud and trying to link up with the birthing demon on the water. Maybe a weatherman will tell you that's not how it works but, that's how it was that day.

   I was up in the tuna tower and Randy Rode, a famous fishing guide in the Keys, was at the wheel downstairs. "Get up close to it, Randy," I hollered down. "Let's take a look at that sucker."

   He edged the boat closer.

   It was awesome. Spooky. The wind gave off a very powerful hissing sound like ten million rattlesnakes all getting ready to strike at the same time. "Go through it, Randy!" I yelled. "Charge right through that son-of-a-bitch!"

   "We can't Gary, we can't," he shouted back.

   Randy has lived around boats and on the water all his life. So did his father. And his brother. His late brother. Whose life was cut short by a sudden electrical storm when he was anchored right off the lighthouse tower at Sombrero reef. What happened was, a lightning bolt hit the tuna tower of the boat... fried everything on board... and... electrocuted Randy's brother. So, you can be sure, Randy has a healthy respect for what Momma Nature can do. Especially so, that day we were so far to hell and gone out in the Gulf Stream we were closer to Cuba than the U.S. when that damn waterspout came up out of nowhere. I kept yelling anyway...

"Randy, You Ain't Got A Hair
On Your Ass If You Don't Charge
That Bastard!"

   "Do it!" I yelled, "do it, run right through it!"

R-O-A-R...RRR...RRR...RRR!

   That "ain't got a hair on your ass" got him where he lived and he ran that boat right through the middle of that arrogant knot of intimidation. "AGAIN!" I yelled, "DO IT AGAIN!"

   He did. Over and over we charged right through that waterspout. And you know what? We broke that sucker up! Tore it to pieces. Moments later it was like it was never there. I looked up to the sky and that evil bitch trying to mate with the one on the water was gone too.

   Randy and I were faint with relief and giggling helplessly. Like little school girls.

   I read a quote once that goes something like this: "Fear knocked on the door and when courage answered, there was no one there."

   I suspect though, that idea ought not be stretched too far.

   This all reminds me of what I did at the beginning of my seminar on "How To Write A Sales Letter That Will Make You Rich" which just ended four days ago. I'm not going to tell you here what I made the attendees do. That would take up too much space. But, it sure jolted the hell out of them. They were stunned.

   They didn't know it  (I think) but, I was quaking in my boots when I told them to do it. I figured they might all walk out on me. Nevertheless, I wanted them to really "get it" ("it" being what makes writing really work) so I took the chance. I knew they would either abandon me or, they would start to understand.

   They got it. I made them do something they'll never forget for the rest of their lives. Just like I'll never forget that day out in the Gulf Stream when me and Randy Rode broke up that waterspout.

   I'm not a brave man. Not at all. But sometimes, some other persona takes over my body and makes me do things I'd normally be too frozen with fear for the pathetic, sniveling actual me, myself to do.

   Sometimes it works good too.

   I think I'm trying to make a point here but, for the life of me, I can't imagine what it is. Ah, to hell with it. I'll go on to something else. Listen: The centerpiece of the pass-out materials at my seminar was a collection of "Masterpiece Letters" which have generated jillions of dollars in sales and profits. That  collection of "Masterpiece Letters" is worth 100 times the entire cost of the seminar... and... what I urged my attendees to do... was... copy those letters out in their own handwriting. Why? So they'd actually have a neurological imprint on a cellular level of what it feels like... to actually write... "killer" sales messages.

   I urge you to do that also. Obviously, I can't reproduce all those letters here. However, I can give you the words of the headlines and/or opening sentences that were used to get 26 of those letters started. And, that alone, if you copy them in your own handwriting, will get your juices flowing and give you the beginnings of a superb neurological imprint that will serve you well the rest of your days.

   Let's boogie:

 LETTER A: A masterpiece from the legendary John Carlton who has just      written 16 "homerun letters" in a row!

LETTER F: Ended up getting a priest a wife he'll never  understand:

   Listen you smuck. Save this issue forever. Copy these openings over and over in your own handwriting. This will give you an invaluable, neurological imprint of great writing. Doing this will help you "own" these masterpiece sentences and paragraphs. They will live inside you, mutate while you sleep, multiply into other great ideas. Do not think you are too advanced, too smart or too experienced to benefit (enormously) from this simple exercise.

   You're not.

	Sincerely,
	Gary C. Halbert

Copyright © 2003 Gary C. Halbert.  All Rights Reserved.