Dear Permission to Be Powerful reader,

What would you do if you knew that you could do ANYTHING?

What kind of person would you be if you knew that you could commit any crime…
Hurt anyone…
Destroy any life…

And not pay the price?

Would you be evil for the sake of it?

Just because you could?

Or, would you be good…

Keep your morals?

ARE YOU SURE?

We all like to think we would stay the same…
Not let fame get to our heads…
Not lose ourselves in the rush of being admired.

But we all know the saying:

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

This is plain to see in the most recent chapter of the Epstein saga.

Powerful people who are above the law.

Who live with impunity.

Who act like the rules are meant for everyone else.

I know you SAY you’re a good person…

But are you sure?

What if you didn’t have to be?

What if you were given the chance to be above the law?

You could live with impunity…

Do whatever the fuck you want…

I know this is hard to imagine…

But people like this absolutely exist — as you’ll soon see.

Imagine waking up one day and having the entire world at your fingertips…

Everyone you encounter knows you and loves you.

Your closest friends are also your colleagues — employed only to make sure you have everything you could ever want.
They are paid to keep you happy.
Paid to orbit you.
Paid to revolve entirely around you.

You are the center of their universe.
And the universe of thousands of people you’ve never even met.

The biggest and most expensive brands in the world beg for your attention, offering millions for a single photo in their apparel.

You get fan mail every day from people begging you to sleep with them.
Telling you they’ll do anything for you.
And they mean it.

All because you can sing.

Or dance.

Or act.

That’s what it’s like being a celebrity.

Every tin pot dictator’s wet dream.

Doors open for you that stay bolted shut for everyone else.

People treat you like a god…

Just because you can do something slightly better than they can.

But here’s the part nobody talks about:

Power magnifies rot.

Every insecurity.
Every wound.
Every defect.

Power drags all of your skeletons into the light.

And if you aren’t grounded?

Can’t resist being worshipped?

Then fame doesn’t elevate you…

It destroys you.

If you’re NOT a good person…

And there’s nothing to stop you from being a bad person…

No laws…

No taboos…

No structure…

You become a monster.

You stop hearing “no.”
You stop registering consequences.
You stop remembering what it feels like to be human.

And for as long as humans have existed, we’ve watched the same pattern repeat:
from Nero to Hitler — different eras, same pathology.

And in our era?
Same shit, different stink.

Powerful men, with confirmed trails of victims…

Most of them got away with it.

Sometimes out in the open.

For DECADES.

Some still do.

Here are the most infamous ones —

Harvey Weinstein

Bill Cosby

Jeffrey Epstein

Prince Andrew

Kevin Spacey

P. Diddy

R. Kelly

Roman Polanski

Woody Allen

Matt Lauer

James Franco

Chris Brown

Mel Gibson

Ian Watkins

And here’s the part nobody wants to face:

These people were protected.

Because power hides in plain sight.
It grants immunity.
It launders reputations.
It makes predators invisible.

They live among us.

Untouchable.
Adored.
Protected.

The scariest ones aren’t the ones we catch.

It’s the ones who get away with it.

Most monsters never make the headlines.

Even when they should.

Bill O’Reilly wasn’t criminally charged…

Yet, Fox News paid $45+ million in settlements for harassment.

He was protected by status for decades until the dam broke.

Charlie Sheen has a long public record of violence and abuse.

Yet, everyone still loves Two and a Half Men.

The world was stunned when Jared Fogle was exposed as a predator.

Subway executives knew. They looked the other way.

You don’t have to be O.J. Simpson to get away with murder.

Many of these folks thought they were untouchable.

Others are still abusing their power right now.

For now.

Until next time,

Tony V.

Editor-in-Chief

Some people have all the luck.

Like Donna…

👀

I’ve never heard of someone winning so much shit in my life.

And she has the receipts to prove it.

Follow me down this rabbit hole if you dare…

And watch Donna win over $100,000 in prizes. 👀

👀

👀

👀

👀

👀

She keeps going…

Until next time,

Tony V.

Editor-in-Chief

Tony V. here.

You already know if my writing works on you.

You read it.

You feel it.

And you come back.

That’s not an accident.

I’ve spent 15 years as a copywriter, writing for some of the biggest names in the industry.

Tony Robbins.

Ramit Sethi.

Neil Patel.

Agora Financial.

Millions of readers.

High stakes.

Every word is judged by one thing:

Did it move people?

Did it make them act?

And, if you know copy, you know what Agora means.

They’re known in the industry as the Harvard of Direct Response.

Only the best get to write for Agora.

That’s the game I’ve been playing for a long time.

And now I’m bringing you inside it.

I’m opening up how I think about writing in real time.

Breaking it down.

Tearing it apart.

Rebuilding it so it actually works.

You won’t just hear theory.

You’ll watch the process.

You’ll see what most people miss.

How attention is captured.

How desire is built.

How decisions get made on the page.

This is the Permission to be Powerful Writer’s Room.

A live environment where your writing gets sharper.

Where you learn by seeing it happen.

Where you stop guessing.

If you write, you belong here.

Doesn’t matter if it’s emails, content, scripts, or sales pages.

If your words need to move people…

This is for you.

Access to my Writer’s Room
Where I break down real writing and show you how to make your words more persuasive, more engaging, and impossible to ignore.

Live demonstrations of copy that works
Watch me rewrite emails, posts, and ideas in real time so you can see exactly how good writing is built.

Direct feedback on your writing
Bring your drafts and I’ll show you how to sharpen them, strengthen them, and make them hit harder.

First access to my best material
New ideas, breakdowns, and advanced lessons go here before they go anywhere else.

Join us.

$20/month.

Tony V
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to Be Powerful reader,

Raising your standards sucks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling.

Because I can see two futures depending on what I choose.

If I settle…

If I tolerate more than I should…

If I abandon myself…

If I let someone walk all over me and ignore my boundaries…

Then I suffer.

My mental health falls apart.

I hate myself.

I feel small.

I feel weak.

I feel disrespected.

I feel resentful.

I already know where that leads.

But when I maintain my standards…

When I hold my boundaries…

When I refuse to settle for less than what I know is right…

That also sucks.

Because now, I have to face reality.

Now I can look at you…

And you look amazing.

My body is screaming yes.

Please.

I want you.

Bad…

But my nervous system?

Fuck no.

Stay the fuck away from that girl.

She’s bad for you.

She will use you.

Every time you’re around her…

You feel small.

You feel weak.

You feel used.

You feel like an errand boy.

You feel disrespected.

There’s a power imbalance.

It’s one-sided.

She drains you.

And if you mess with her…

She’ll give you an amazing night.

And then she’ll ruin your life.

So now I have a choice.

Because I know what tolerating disrespect gets me.

I know what ignoring red flags gets me.

And once you see the pattern…

You can’t unsee it.

You don’t need 5,000 days to confirm what you saw on day one.

And it’s not just with women.

I told my cousin I was at my breaking point.

Not I was having a bad day…

My breaking point.

He responded with a sales pitch for his new AI software.

Some people can’t see you.

And if you don’t catch that early…

You’ll spend years trying to be understood by people who were never capable of understanding you.

I’ve been treated right.

I know what it’s like.

And once you’ve felt that…

Settling becomes unbearable.

So here I am.

Alone.

But honest.

Saying no to the bad…

So I can make room for the good.

Refusing to abandon myself under any circumstances.

Tony V
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

The Rochester Zen Center…

Has a mouse problem.

We’re losing this war badly.

These mice are completely unafraid.

The softies here at the center are out of their element.

They hate killing.

As Buddhists, we believe in living in harmony with all sentient beings.

And the mice love us for it.

Sometimes, I see them scurrying around in broad daylight.

I’m remembering that old movie, Joe’s Apartment.

Except the roaches are swapped out for rodents.

Every night, I go to sleep…

That’s when the stage lights come on…

They start singing a number…

And they line-dance over the counters.

The next day, they leave a trail of poop behind.

One staff member calls them “Fred.”

“Should we leave a snack out for Fred tonight?” he jokes.

Another imagines one mouse bragging to his friends about the team of professionals who cook him a five-star meal every day.

Everyone here is a conscientious objector.

Nobody will even eat meat.

We’re far too kind-hearted to do what’s required.

So the lethal options are off the table.

No poison.

No cats.

And the traps don’t work.

Dozens of them. All empty.

It’s like they know exactly what it is, and they know to avoid it.

Not even peanut butter tempts them.

One night, I walked into the staff kitchen…

And saw a mouse, ass up under the toaster…

Eating crumbs like it owned the place.

Like Nero at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I had seconds.

I grabbed a towel.
A box.

It spotted me and ran behind the bread basket.

I waited.

It came out the other side.

I dropped the towel, pinned it, grabbed it…

And slammed it into the box.

Caught.

For once.

I kept it there overnight.

Nobody wanted to kill it.

Of course not.

If we let it outside, it would come right back.

One guy offered to take it home for his cat.

Fine.

He gets home…

Opens the box…

Reaches for the cat…

And in that tiny window—

The mouse escapes.

Starts a new life there.

That’s how it works.

Nobody does what’s necessary.

So the problem survives.

Then it multiplies.

And eventually…

It owns the place.

We locked everything down.

Tupperware. Sealed containers. No food in rooms.

For a moment, it looked like we’d won.

They got skinny.

Then they found other food.

At night, they slide under my door.

I hear them scurrying.

I wake up feeling violated.

Like a burglar was just in my house.

So I bought thick foam to block the gap.

Now I hear them chewing at it.

In the morning, there are bits of foam outside my door.

For now, they haven’t gotten in.

Nothing leaves me feeling more broke…

Than having mice for roommates.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to Be Powerful reader,

I went on a date.

Before it even started, I told her:

“I feel nervous.”

That was enough.

She stormed out.

Canceled immediately.

And just like that, the whole thing collapsed.

Not after a fight…

Or anything dramatic.

Just… the presence of a need.

At first, you want to explain it away.

Maybe she’s guarded.
Maybe she’s not that invested yet.

But then you look at the pattern.

Every time I wanted anything at all…

The answer was always no.

Even when it was small.

It was as if there was an unspoken condition from the start:

I was supposed to show up with no needs.

No friction. No weight. No interior life.

Just usefulness.

And the moment that wasn’t true?

Everything shut down.

I’ve seen selfish before.

I’ve dated selfish.

I’ve been married to selfish.

Even then, there was at least a flicker of recognition.

A moment where someone looks at you and asks:

“What’s wrong?”

Here?

Nothing.

Not once.

No questions.

No pause.

No adjustment.

Just a steady, unbroken focus on herself.

You don’t need deep emotional support on a first date.

But you do need something.

A flicker.

That’s the floor.

And when it’s not there, something becomes very clear:

For this to work… you have to disappear.

Become wantless…

Needless…

Invisible.

One minute, you’re abandoning yourself in seemingly harmless ways.

The next, the other person has taken over your life.

Because from the outside, it doesn’t look extreme.

She can seem:

Soft
Kind
Attentive… to other people

I’ve seen her across the room. Watching me. Smiling. Warm.

From a distance, it looks completely normal.

But up close?

There’s no space for you.

The mechanism is simple.

Your needs don’t register as:

“This person matters.”

They register as:

“This is getting in the way.”

Not consciously. Not maliciously.

Just… structurally.

So something as small as:

“I feel nervous.”

isn’t received as connection.

It’s received as friction.

And the interaction ends.

I could have played along.

I know how.

Be easy.

Be useful.

Don’t ask for anything.

Be grateful for whatever I get.

Stay light.

Stay accommodating.

Never shift the focus.

And yeah—
I could’ve had her.

But I know what that gets you.

Crumbs.

Just enough to stay.

And in exchange, you give up something slowly:

yourself.

You abandon yourself just by being in the dynamic at all.

Some people insist on it.

I’ve lived that.

To the point where I lost entire years of my life.

To the point where therapists told me:

“That wasn’t a relationship. You were completely subjugated.”

I moved countries.

Disappeared.

Built my life around someone who had no room for me.

So when I see the pattern now—

I don’t debate it.

I recognize it.

My body rejects it before my mind gets to have a say.

Before I get tempted to go back to the familiar.

There was a pull.

There always is.

She reminded me of someone I once loved deeply.

Someone who treated me with quiet contempt.

And my body still remembers that.

But I don’t follow it anymore.

So I didn’t chase.

I didn’t escalate.

I didn’t perform.

I gave her nothing.

Not out of spite.

Out of recognition.

Because the real decision isn’t:

“Is this person good or bad?”

It’s:

What version of me does this dynamic require?

And I’m not becoming that person again.

Now, to be clear—

This is my interpretation.

She’s not here to explain herself.

But I’ve spent years studying my own life closely.

Because I had to.

I lived in a world where people took from me constantly—and I didn’t even see it.

Waking up from that changes how you see everything.

These dynamics aren’t rare.

They’re just quiet.

Most people stay.

They justify it.
They hope.
They wait for something to shift.

It doesn’t.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful reader,

Last October, I moved into the Rochester Zen Center.

Since then, I’ve shed several decades of trauma.

It’s a beautiful thing.

I’ve spent more time on the mat than just about anyone.

I’m so funny.

I get a job as a janitor and they don’t even pay.

I’m coming up on six months and I am eligible to get a “salary”

$300 per month.

And they work me to the bone.

Up at 6 am for meditation in the Zendo every day.

Brown robes, giant bell, the whole nine yards.

We do chanting every day at the end of the first sitting.

The cool thing about the chanting is…

You drill Buddhist teachings into your bones.

After a while, it imprints in your mind, and you unlock wisdom and insight.

But there’s such a beautiful unfolding happening here.

I worry that the outside world will tempt me away from this place too soon.

Moving to the Rochester Zen Center has been one of the most worthwhile experiences of my life. Hands down.

But you might not think so if you looked at me.

In practical terms, I was a janitor for my first four months.

They recently moved me to the kitchen.

I’m a pot scrubber.

Moving up in society.

About 3 hours of meditation per day.

Morning, noon, and night.

Some insane results y’all.

Insane.

I’m seeing more clearly than ever before by a lot.

I can see through people’s bullshit in ways that I couldn’t before.

I’ve never needed others’ approval less.

I’m more authentic than I’ve ever been.

And there’s a quiet strength about Zen.

When you have gone as hard as I have…

You see the world differently.

Your motivations change.

People see you differently.

People are so noisy.

I see their nervous tics.

Their restlessness.

There are some really interesting case studies.

The common theme is the tiny trail of chaos they always leave behind.

“Normal” people are…

Angry.

Hostile…

Childish.

Not everyone. Of course.

But many.

Most people are kids in adult bodies.

People who don’t meditate tend to be addicted to instant results.

My buddy asked me, “So, are you, like, enlightened yet, bro?”

No.

My sensei says, I’m changed.

I asked her how.

“You looked settled.”

“More comfortable in your skin.”

It’s true.

This place has absolutely cleaned my clock.

I’ve done about 8 or 9 7-day retreats.

This is where we go to a secluded monastery, and we go full Buddhist monk.

No talking ever.

No reading.

No tech.

Just meditation and chores all day.

4 am wakeup mock tock.

There’s only enough time to brush teeth, put on robe, and get a quick cup of coffee.

Then we walk outside in our dope Zen quad.

Rain or shine.

In January, it might as well be Anartica.

Pure misery.

But no time to think about that, off we go to sit in silence for the next ten hours straight.

The night ends around 9:30.

We are eating like…

As few calories as possible.

Suffering on purpose.

I skip breakfast.

Three crackers and a bowl of hummus.

Half a slice of bread and a tiny salad for dinner.

One apple before bed.

They never taste better.

The first three days are always the worst.

Your mind is fighting back.

It has nowhere to run and it won’t go silently.

Here’s your favourite doom spiral to throw you off balance.

It’s behaving like an addict in withdrawal.

Once your mind settles down, you can see the whole world anew.

You see things as they are.

Not as your mind tells you.

You process decades of junk that’s been living rent free in your mind.

This is the mother of all spring cleanings.

By the end…

You gained a decade of wisdom.

You have a whole new lease on life.

You’ve let go of so much bullshit that’s been weighing you down.

Often solutions to problems show up automatically.

Just sit and wait.

That’s all you have to do.

Do absolutely nothing for seven days.

NOTHING.

No moving.

Eyes shut.

Not a peep.

Nowhere to run or hide.

Everytime I think I have this place figured out, I unlock some new insight that clarifies my life.

I came to this place to seek refuge.

My life was in crisis mode.

I needed protection from the outside world.

I never worry about gossip.

I don’t have time to follow the news.

I live life in a perfectly controlled environment.

The retreat center at Chapin Mill, I like to think about it like a spiritual pressure cooker.

The constraints are so severe that they force rapid progress.

Something profoundly beautiful is happening inside me.

I don’t know what.

But I love the results.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

I burned my life to the ground.

Again.

Let’s review…

The past two years have been the hardest of my life.

Two straight years of nuclear winter.🥶

It started when Tony Robbins fired me.

I had no income…

And yet, I refused to go back to freelancing.

If I were going to pull this off, I would have to draw on every insight I’d earned over fifteen years writing for the best in the business.

Everything.

Keep in mind:

I was a new immigrant.
Freshly divorced.
Alone.

Not even an “in case of emergency” contact.

The buck stopped here.

No safety net.

And I was a freelance copywriter in the middle of the AI apocalypse.

There was nothing to go back to.

So I locked myself in a room for a year.

And built something that still humbles me.

An email list of 93,000 subscribers.

From scratch.

While waiting to find out if the U.S. government would deport me.

I was agitated as fuck.

ICE was in the headlines.

Kicking in doors.

I felt like a fugitive.

Because of a little bit of paperwork.

I’m from St. Lucia.

A small island.

I got my green card in 2021.

Divorced in 2022.

That timing is not ideal.

At one point my mindset was simple:

I don’t care if I’m homeless
as long as I’m homeless on U.S. soil.

There’s a strange power in having nothing left to lose.

When annihilation seems certain…

You stop pulling your punches.

You abandon every ounce of restraint…

I understood what this mission required.

I would have to be willing to go broke.

Willing to lose everything.

Because the thing I was building was going to demand everything.

I pushed myself to the edge of sanity.

Night and day, I thought about one thing:

Growing my list.

I was done selling my talent to someone else.

Done waiting for loyalty from people who never believed it went both ways.

Fifteen years working behind the scenes.

This time, I would step into the light.

To build this, I used every skill I’d acquired.

When money dried up, I became a janitor at a Zen Center.

I meditate for hours a day.

It’s a strange thing to scrub toilets in the morning
and write to tens of thousands of people at night.

Some people here don’t understand it.

One of them thinks I’m lying about the size of my audience.

Everything I own is in storage.

Every emergency fund is gone.

Most of it went into building this list.

Ninety-five percent of that money went into trial and error.

Learning the hard way.

I can’t tell you how hard it is to willingly spend everything you have on hope.

My mind wants closure.

I miss being a freewheeling dancer.

And I have scrubbed more toilets than I care to do ever again.

I’m down to my last few thousand dollars.

Closer to the flames than I feel comfortable.

The house is on fire.

I’m still inside.

But there’s hope.

I have leverage.

For the first time in my career.

I set the terms.

I own the infrastructure.

I’m speaking without a client’s approval.

No borrowed voice.

No pretending to be someone else.

No asking for permission.

And I can feel the difference.

I’ve finally begun monetizing it.

I launched a Patreon called The Vacation Vault.

I have 35 paid subscribers.

1000 pays for the lifestyle I want.

I am close to securing my first paid advertiser - a former client, no less.

For now, this is what matters:

I built something no one can fire me from.

To do it, I had to evolve.

From copywriter
to founder.

Now the risk is mine.

So is the upside.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

Imagine being this sick fuck.

Imagine…

You’ve spent your whole life at the very top.

Invincible.

Above the law.

It’s even worse than you think.

This motherfucker thought he could rape children and get away with it.

He used all of that fucking power and money that he never earned…

To be a fucking child molester.

The chickens have finally come home to roost.

These are the same people who built much of their wealth through oppression and enslavement.

Yet the media keeps telling us to look up to them.

That they are noble.

But what if the guy we’ve been told for decades was a good guy…

Was really a monster?

No different than any predator on a sex offender’s list?

By the way—

I am deeply fascinated with people who experience massive swings like that.

It’s not uncommon.
It goes with the job.

Big names with horrible endings.

Kings who were executed or imprisoned:

Charles I of England
Beheaded in public.

Louis XVI
Got his head lopped off.

Edward II of England
Murdered in his jail cell.

Maximilian I of Mexico
Turned into Swiss cheese by firing squad.

What do all of these people have in common?

They lived lives you and I couldn’t begin to fathom.

They lived above the law.

What do you see when you look at Andrew’s face?

I see a man who thought the law didn’t apply to him.

A man getting a taste of reality for the first time in his whole goddamn life.

This man sucked the Queen’s tits, bro.

In his mind, his mommy “owned” an entire country.

That’s how his life started.

All your life, the entire world keeps telling you you’re special for no reason.

You have an army of butlers and servants and guards.

People worship the ground you walk on.

Not because you’re special…

Or talented…

You’re not Usain Bolt or Whitney Houston…

There’s nothing special about you.

You didn’t earn your success.

Your wealth was largely gained from looting and plundering other countries.

You can have anything.

Do anything.

With no limits.

Someone like that would have such a warped sense of reality.

They could very well be insane.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful reader,

The latest Epstein files released by the U.S. Justice Department contain millions of emails.

Many of them come after Jeffrey Epstein’s 2008 conviction as a sex offender.

These men knew.

Some of them participated.

And many of them were extremely violent.

In a 2022 civil complaint, a woman alleged she was raped inside Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse by billionaire Leon Black.

She says that he

“bit her vagina,”

Causing bleeding and excruciating pain that lasted for several weeks.

Maria Farmer alleged she was held against her will in Ohio.

One email claims that 2 foreign women were strangled to death and buried near Epstein’s Zorro Ranch in New Mexico

These allegations are starting to paint a dark picture.

Peter Attia

Longevity doctor. Podcast star. Trusted by billionaires.

Peter Attia is a famous doctor on the internet.

He talks about living longer.
Eating better.
Staying sharp.

He runs a massive podcast.

Attia appears in Epstein’s files more than 1,700 times.

“Pussy is, indeed, low carb.”

“Still awaiting results on gluten content.”

That same year, Attia asked Epstein what he was doing in Palm Beach.

“Guess.”

“Besides that.”

Attia also wrote to Epstein’s assistant that he went into “JE withdrawal” when he didn’t see him.

Gross.

In 2017, while Attia’s son was fighting for his life, Attia delayed returning home so he could spend more time with Epstein.

When Epstein bragged about his life, Attia replied:

“Your life is so outrageous I couldn’t tell a soul.”

Larry Summers

Larry Summers ran the U.S. Treasury.

He was president of Harvard.

Yet, in March 2019, months before Epstein’s final arrest, Summers emailed Epstein about a woman he described as…

“Coy.”

Epstein:

“She’s smart – making you pay for past errors.”

Epstein asked Summers to arrange a Harvard campus visit.

He agreed.

Emails show Summers’ wife asking Epstein for donations.

“My life will be better if I raise $1m for Lisa.”

“Lisa” was his wife.

Summers:

“Your help changed everything.”

Summers’ wife:

“I’m going upstairs to hunt for my copy of Lolita.”

Deepak Chopra

Mindfulness brand. Spiritual celebrity.

Deepak Chopra sells consciousness.

Inner peace.

Privately, the tone was different.

Epstein asked Chopra to help him find...

“A cute Israeli blonde.”

Chopra replied that Israeli women were

“militant, aggressive, and sexy.”

Epstein sent “two girls” to one of Chopra’s events.

Epstein:

“I liked watching you zero in on your prey.”

Chopra:

“I am not a predator, just a lover.”

Epstein sent Chopra a news article about a woman accusing Epstein and Trump of raping her at age thirteen.

Chopra:

“Did she also drop the civil case against you?”

Epstein:

“Yup.”

Chopra:

“Good.”

Les Wexner

In 1991, Wexner gave Epstein full power of attorney.

In 1996, Wexner transferred his Manhattan townhouse to Epstein.

Wexner later said Epstein stole at least $46 million.

Leon Black

Leon Black paid Epstein tens of millions of dollars for tax and estate planning advice after Epstein’s conviction.

Black has denied wrongdoing.

Including for the “biting her vagina.”

Yet, he settled his Epstein case for $62.5 million.

Ehud Barak

Former Israeli prime minister.

Defense minister.

Photographs show Ehud Barak entering Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse with several young women.

Bill Gates

“To add insult to the injury you then subsequently with tears in your eyes, implore me to please delete the emails regarding your std, your request that I provide you antibiotics that you can surreptitiously give to Melinda, and the description of your penis.”

—Jeffrey Epstein

Andrew MountBatten-Windsor…

On all fours over a girl…

Noam Chomsky…

“I’m really fantasizing about the Caribbean island.’

— Noam Chomsky

Peter Thiel

Epstein gave Peter Thiel $40 million...

AFTER his conviction.

They didn’t stop.

They joked.
They coordinated.
They scheduled.
They asked favors.
They accepted introductions.
They took money.
They moved money.
They normalized.

They treated a convicted predator like a friend.

A pal…

Motherfuckers.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

I fucking hate wartime.

But it sneaks up on you.
Always uninvited.

Before you know it, you can’t remember what the good old days were like.

No more salsa seven days per week.

No more dance crew.

No more girlfriends.
No more sex.
No more money.
No more fun.
No more running.
No more racing.
No more running team.

No more weekenders.

Just me and David Goggins.
With unending misery.

There was the Great War of 2018.

I found myself a ghastly fifty pounds overweight.

That takes dedication.
codependency.
isolation.
poverty.
That takes an abusive relationship.
Three long years of depression.

Dark thoughts I can’t unthink.

That took two hundred days of nonstop running.
Weekly starvation.
Chugging salt water to keep my appetite down.
That took getting a handle on my finances.

During wartime, you don’t get to coast.

It’s wartime.

Either you fight, or you DIE.

You don’t want either.
So you make hard choices.

You get strategic.
You create wealth out of poverty.

Back then, I was broke, but I was ALSO burned out.

FUCK.

One big breakthrough was when I changed my relationship to money.

I didn’t understand the vicious cycle I created every month by mismanaging my money.

New systems filled my bank accounts within months.

Good always follows the bad.
Nothing stands still.
Not one thing in this universe stays the same.

This can and will change at any moment.

Everything changes.
So will this situation.

This is the season for building strength.

The spring always follows winter.

And it WILL be sweet.

During wartime, you don’t linger over lunch.

And apparently, everyone can see it.

At the Zen center, at least three people have commented on how fast I eat.
I’m always the first one done.
Every meal.

I’ve started skipping breakfast a lot of days too.

I work through every single break.

If I’m being honest, sometimes I find extra ways to get access to my computer so I can keep working even when I technically shouldn’t be.

Because in war…

There’s no time to waste.

You find out who your real friends are.

That’s one of the few gifts of this season.

Right now, I can count them on one hand.

You see who’s really in your corner.
And who was just nearby when things were easy.

Be strategic.
Double down on self-care.
Guard your inner space.

Fight for every win.

Journaling is always mandatory in wartime.

You need to organize the hurricane of ideas in your head.
You must think clearly.

You can accomplish far more during wartime than during peace.

Because you have to.

Take inventory of every hour of your day.
Do it every day.

Trim the fat in your life.

Proactively toughen up.

War stinks.

This time has a special stench.

Normally, even when broke, I can still run and dance.
Salsa parties are always cheap.
Ten bucks most of the time.

But this is grim.

Because I can’t run the way I normally would.

My running coach was my first paid member here on Substack.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that.
Especially right now.

I’m sitting in my car, listening to bachata and staring at my running bag.
Untouched for five months.

Janitors don’t have time for running.
Especially not Buddhist janitors.

I feel like I’m in a movie or something.

It’s surreal.

I almost forgot to mention that part.

I don’t get paid.

Currently working two jobs around the clock.
And neither of them pay me.

I must be crazy.

I took such a hard stance against freelancing I chose becoming a janitor instead.

I don’t regret it.

There are some crosses I’m willing to die on.

And I’d rather die than freelance again.

I would rather starve.

Compared to freelancing?
That’s just where I’m at.

There’s another part of this wartime I haven’t really talked about.

Burnout.

There was a stretch where I only had about five good hours in me per day.
That’s it.

So I had to get ruthless with reality.

I had to build a life that worked inside five hours.
Not pretend I had twelve.

That meant making fun a priority.
Movement.
Music.
Anything that reminded me I wasn’t just a machine.

It took me a year and a half, but my list is almost at 100k.

It’s surreal having access to this many people.

I feel like I built a giant stadium.

And now, I have the place all to myself.

When I hit send, I say —
“Bomb’s away.”

That’s how it feels.

It’s still a work in progress.

No, I’m not going to tell you how I did it.

Not unless you pay me.

And Goddammit, it’s about damn time someone did.

Tony Robbins fired me for asking for a raise.

After I made him millions.

Everyone else took credit for my work.
No bonus.
No standing ovation.

So I asked for more.
I thought it was sound logic.

Fifteen years in this game.

I was trying to build a $200,000 per year freelancing business.
The math worked.
Until it didn’t.

I didn’t think asking for a raise would ruin my life.
Would send me into poverty.

But unfortunately, I have principles.

Getting fired when everyone else benefited from my work but me was a bridge too far.

There are people who got out of freelancing and built seven-figure companies within a year.

Can I do it?

I don’t have a clue.

But I do have a list of 84k people.
An engaged segment of about 25k.
And a Patreon with a handful of buyers and a growing free base.

I’m winging it as I go.

I had to acquire these leads through creative means.
Which presents its own unique challenges.

It’s like taming a bucking bronco.

Mike Tyson was built during wartime.

Even Buddhist monks have to go to their car to scream once in a while.

I don’t recommend my lifestyle.

Tony
Editor in Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,

The Rochester Zen Center…

Has a mouse problem.

We’re losing this war badly.

These mice are completely unafraid.

The softies here at the center are out of their element.

They hate killing.

As Buddhists, we believe in living in harmony with all sentient beings.

And the mice love us for it.

Sometimes, I see them scurrying around in broad daylight.

I’m remembering that old movie, Joe’s Apartment.

Except the roaches are swapped out for rodents.

Every night, I go to sleep…

That’s when the stage lights come on…

They start singing a number…

And they line-dance over the counters.

The next day, they leave a trail of poop behind.

One staff member calls them “Fred.”

“Should we leave a snack out for Fred tonight?” he jokes.

Another imagines one mouse bragging to his friends about the team of professionals who cook him a five-star meal every day.

Everyone here is a conscientious objector.

Nobody will even eat meat.

We’re far too kind-hearted to do what’s required.

So the lethal options are off the table.

No poison.

No cats.

And the traps don’t work.

Dozens of them. All empty.

It’s like they know exactly what it is, and they know to avoid it.

Not even peanut butter tempts them.

One night, I walked into the staff kitchen…

And saw a mouse, ass up under the toaster…

Eating crumbs like it owned the place.

Like Nero at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I had seconds.

I grabbed a towel.
A box.

It spotted me and ran behind the bread basket.

I waited.

It came out the other side.

I dropped the towel, pinned it, grabbed it…

And slammed it into the box.

Caught.

For once.

I kept it there overnight.

Nobody wanted to kill it.

Of course not.

If we let it outside, it would come right back.

One guy offered to take it home for his cat.

Fine.

He gets home…

Opens the box…

Reaches for the cat…

And in that tiny window—

The mouse escapes.

Starts a new life there.

That’s how it works.

Nobody does what’s necessary.

So the problem survives.

Then it multiplies.

And eventually…

It owns the place.

We locked everything down.

Tupperware. Sealed containers. No food in rooms.

For a moment, it looked like we’d won.

They got skinny.

Then they found other food.

At night, they slide under my door.

I hear them scurrying.

I wake up feeling violated.

Like a burglar was just in my house.

So I bought thick foam to block the gap.

Now I hear them chewing at it.

In the morning, there are bits of foam outside my door.

For now, they haven’t gotten in.

Nothing leaves me feeling more broke…

Than having mice for roommates.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to be Powerful reader,

For years, I desired women who did not want me.

Who did not value me.

Who did not respect me.

Why should I like someone who doesn’t respect me?

Don’t know, didn’t care.

These days, I prefer women who light up when they see me.

But back then...

I was like Pepe le Pew.

I chased while they ran away.

I kept trying harder.

I was such a glutton for punishment.

It wasn’t really about the girl.

I was addicted to the struggle for approval.

I was trying to convince someone that I was good enough.

That I had value.

So sad and ironic.

Think about it:

If someone else held the key to my value...

That’s me announcing my own self-hatred up front.

The game was simple:

If she changes her mind about me…

I win.

I didn’t think there was another way.

When you’re starving for validation…

You want someone else to feed it to you.

Look how many friends you have.
Look at the car you drive.
Look who approves of you.

But opinions are fiction.

Yet people spend their entire lives chasing approval from strangers.

I did.

For years, my self-worth was on trial.

Any random person could be the judge.

When you need approval…

You can’t say no.

You censor yourself.

You shrink.

You tolerate things you should never tolerate.

People can see you coming from a mile away.

It took me years to see it.

That was Anton.

Tony is different.

Anton chased approval.

Tony minds his business.

Anton tolerated one-sided dynamics.

Tony is like a bouncer.

He limits access.

And he shows people the door.

There are no exceptions.

Anton built his whole career around his clients' approval.

So if he stepped out of line…

Everything collapsed.

Tony builds assets with no gatekeepers.

No more begging for permission.

No more hiding behind anyone else’s name.

Anton thought respect had to be earned.

Tony doesn’t play that game.

Respect is mandatory.

Up front.

Anton’s life didn’t work.

It was exhausting.

He let the women in his life become his whole world.

He stayed in relationships long past the expiration date.

“Yes, dear...”
“Whatever you want, dear.”

Anton moved to a city he didn’t like just to make someone else happy.

He worked for crumbs while others took the upside.

He signed away his leverage on day one.

All to avoid conflict.

I didn’t question it for years.

Now I do.

Anton was so busy trying to play the approval game, his needs came dead last.

He was becoming a danger to himself.

He wasn’t all bad.

He knew something was “off”...

That’s why he built Tony, slowly, over more than a decade.

There came a point where I saw the pattern clearly.

Different seasons.

Different people.

Same dynamics.

Every day was Groundhog Day.

I was tired of living a sabotaged life.

So I started breaking the pattern.

One boundary at a time.

Each one gave me a little more self-respect.

But it didn’t feel good.

Not at first.

Every time I acted differently…

It felt wrong.

I wanted to go back.

To smooth things over.
To apologize.
To keep the peace.

Walking away felt like losing.

Saying no felt like a mistake.

Even when I knew it wasn’t.

That was withdrawal.

I sat with it.

The discomfort.
The urge to fold.
The feeling that I was ruining everything.

And slowly…

I stopped needing approval to feel okay.

I went on a date.

I could see the old one‑sided dynamic forming.

Afterward, she started avoiding me.

Pretending not to see me.

Acting like I was invisible.

Anton would have chased harder…

- like Pepe le Pew.

Tony didn’t.

He said…

“I see you trying to avoid me. You don’t have to. I’m not interested in any woman who isn’t interested in me.”

I meant every word.

Her mouth hung open.

Guess she never heard that one before.

Still not going back.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

Dear Permission to Be Powerful reader,

I went on a date.

Before it even started, I told her:

“I feel nervous.”

That was enough.

She stormed out.

Canceled immediately.

And just like that, the whole thing collapsed.

Not after a fight…

Or anything dramatic.

Just… the presence of a need.

At first, you want to explain it away.

Maybe she’s guarded.
Maybe she’s not that invested yet.

But then you look at the pattern.

Every time I wanted anything at all…

The answer was always no.

Even when it was small.

It was as if there was an unspoken condition from the start:

I was supposed to show up with no needs.

No friction. No weight. No interior life.

Just usefulness.

And the moment that wasn’t true?

Everything shut down.

I’ve seen selfish before.

I’ve dated selfish.

I’ve been married to selfish.

Even then, there was at least a flicker of recognition.

A moment where someone looks at you and asks:

“What’s wrong?”

Here?

Nothing.

Not once.

No questions.

No pause.

No adjustment.

Just a steady, unbroken focus on herself.

You don’t need deep emotional support on a first date.

But you do need something.

A flicker.

That’s the floor.

And when it’s not there, something becomes very clear:

For this to work… you have to disappear.

Become wantless…

Needless…

Invisible.

One minute, you’re abandoning yourself in seemingly harmless ways.

The next, the other person has taken over your life.

Because from the outside, it doesn’t look extreme.

She can seem:

Soft
Kind
Attentive… to other people

I’ve seen her across the room. Watching me. Smiling. Warm.

From a distance, it looks completely normal.

But up close?

There’s no space for you.

The mechanism is simple.

Your needs don’t register as:

“This person matters.”

They register as:

“This is getting in the way.”

Not consciously. Not maliciously.

Just… structurally.

So something as small as:

“I feel nervous.”

isn’t received as connection.

It’s received as friction.

And the interaction ends.

I could have played along.

I know how.

Be easy.

Be useful.

Don’t ask for anything.

Be grateful for whatever I get.

Stay light.

Stay accommodating.

Never shift the focus.

And yeah—
I could’ve had her.

But I know what that gets you.

Crumbs.

Just enough to stay.

And in exchange, you give up something slowly:

yourself.

You abandon yourself just by being in the dynamic at all.

Some people insist on it.

I’ve lived that.

To the point where I lost entire years of my life.

To the point where therapists told me:

“That wasn’t a relationship. You were completely subjugated.”

I moved countries.

Disappeared.

Built my life around someone who had no room for me.

So when I see the pattern now—

I don’t debate it.

I recognize it.

My body rejects it before my mind gets to have a say.

Before I get tempted to go back to the familiar.

There was a pull.

There always is.

She reminded me of someone I once loved deeply.

Someone who treated me with quiet contempt.

And my body still remembers that.

But I don’t follow it anymore.

So I didn’t chase.

I didn’t escalate.

I didn’t perform.

I gave her nothing.

Not out of spite.

Out of recognition.

Because the real decision isn’t:

“Is this person good or bad?”

It’s:

What version of me does this dynamic require?

And I’m not becoming that person again.

Now, to be clear—

This is my interpretation.

She’s not here to explain herself.

But I’ve spent years studying my own life closely.

Because I had to.

I lived in a world where people took from me constantly—and I didn’t even see it.

Waking up from that changes how you see everything.

These dynamics aren’t rare.

They’re just quiet.

Most people stay.

They justify it.
They hope.
They wait for something to shift.

It doesn’t.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful

I am trying something new.

With permission from my Zen Center.

I’m giving you a window into what my life as a Buddhist janitor monk is really like.

Learn some real Zen with me.

Enjoy.

I am trying something new.

With permission from my Zen Center.

I’m giving you a window into what my life as a Buddhist janitor monk is really like.

Learn some real Zen with me.

Enjoy.

I am trying something new.

With permission from my Zen Center.

I’m giving you a window into what my life as a Buddhist janitor monk is really like.

Learn some real Zen with me.

Enjoy.

I am trying something new.

With permission from my Zen Center.

I’m giving you a window into what my life as a Buddhist janitor monk is really like.

Learn some real Zen with me.

Enjoy.

I am trying something new.

With permission from my Zen Center.

I’m giving you a window into what my life as a Buddhist janitor monk is really like.

Learn some real Zen with me.

Enjoy.

Dear Permission to be Powerful reader,

Last October, I moved into the Rochester Zen Center.

Since then, I’ve shed several decades of trauma.

It’s a beautiful thing.

I’ve spent more time on the mat than just about anyone.

I’m so funny.

I get a job as a janitor and they don’t even pay.

I’m coming up on six months and I am eligible to get a “salary”

$300 per month.

And they work me to the bone.

Up at 6 am for meditation in the Zendo every day.

Brown robes, giant bell, the whole nine yards.

We do chanting every day at the end of the first sitting.

The cool thing about the chanting is…

You drill Buddhist teachings into your bones.

After a while, it imprints in your mind, and you unlock wisdom and insight.

But there’s such a beautiful unfolding happening here.

I worry that the outside world will tempt me away from this place too soon.

Moving to the Rochester Zen Center has been one of the most worthwhile experiences of my life. Hands down.

But you might not think so if you looked at me.

In practical terms, I was a janitor for my first four months.

They recently moved me to the kitchen.

I’m a pot scrubber.

Moving up in society.

About 3 hours of meditation per day.

Morning, noon, and night.

Some insane results y’all.

Insane.

I’m seeing more clearly than ever before by a lot.

I can see through people’s bullshit in ways that I couldn’t before.

I’ve never needed others' approval less.

I’m more authentic than I’ve ever been.

And there’s a quiet strength about Zen.

When you have gone as hard as I have…

You see the world differently.

Your motivations change.

People see you differently.

People are so noisy.

I see their nervous tics.

Their restlessness.

There are some really interesting case studies.

The common theme is the tiny trail of chaos they always leave behind.

“Normal” people are…

Angry.

Hostile…

Childish.

Not everyone. Of course.

But many.

Most people are kids in adult bodies.

People who don’t meditate tend to be addicted to instant results.

My buddy asked me, “So, are you, like, enlightened yet, bro?”

No.

My sensei says, I’m changed.

I asked her how.

“You looked settled.”

“More comfortable in your skin.”

It’s true.

This place has absolutely cleaned my clock.

I’ve done about 8 or 9 7-day retreats.

This is where we go to a secluded monastery, and we go full Buddhist monk.

No talking ever.

No reading.

No tech.

Just meditation and chores all day.

4 am wakeup mock tock.

There’s only enough time to brush teeth, put on robe, and get a quick cup of coffee.

Then we walk outside in our dope Zen quad.

Rain or shine.

In January, it might as well be Anartica.

Pure misery.

But no time to think about that, off we go to sit in silence for the next ten hours straight.

The night ends around 9:30.

We are eating like…

As few calories as possible.

Suffering on purpose.

I skip breakfast.

Three crackers and a bowl of hummus.

Half a slice of bread and a tiny salad for dinner.

One apple before bed.

They never taste better.

The first three days are always the worst.

Your mind is fighting back.

It has nowhere to run and it won’t go silently.

Here’s your favourite doom spiral to throw you off balance.

It’s behaving like an addict in withdrawal.

Once your mind settles down, you can see the whole world anew.

You see things as they are.

Not as your mind tells you.

You process decades of junk that’s been living rent free in your mind.

This is the mother of all spring cleanings.

By the end…

You gained a decade of wisdom.

You have a whole new lease on life.

You’ve let go of so much bullshit that’s been weighing you down.

Often solutions to problems show up automatically.

Just sit and wait.

That’s all you have to do.

Do absolutely nothing for seven days.

NOTHING.

No moving.

Eyes shut.

Not a peep.

Nowhere to run or hide.

Everytime I think I have this place figured out, I unlock some new insight that clarifies my life.

I came to this place to seek refuge.

My life was in crisis mode.

I needed protection from the outside world.

I never worry about gossip.

I don’t have time to follow the news.

I live life in a perfectly controlled environment.

The retreat center at Chapin Mill, I like to think about it like a spiritual pressure cooker.

The constraints are so severe that they force rapid progress.

Something profoundly beautiful is happening inside me.

I don’t know what.

But I love the results.

Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful