Why Aren't I Selling Magic Beans to Fools?

It is just so easy. I rail against Joel Osteen's "The Purpose Driven Life", and his horse teeth. But he is winning, while I lose every day. I need someone, a great friend or a trusted relative, to talk me into taking a dump on my principles and start selling snake oil. People fall all the fuck over themselves to pay their hard earned credit limits for someone to fill them full of false hope. They want Joel Osteen to put it in them slow and steady, then fast and with reckless abandon, and whisper filthy little tidbits in their ear like "Be everything you were meant to be", until they are moaning uncontrollably like the mouth-breathing idiots they truly are. I have precious few talents in this world, but there is one thing I excel at that most people are terrified of: Public speaking. I could be Joel Osteen, or Billy Graham, or Glenn Beck, or even Oprah (I obviously would have to become blacker and more lesbian). I just need to find a drug which suppresses my feelings of personal pride, honesty, and helps me to forget the social pact with my fellow man. Could I sleep at night, if my pillows were stuffed with the silky manes of unicorns and 100 harpists serenaded me to bed? My heart tells me: If you want to live a purpose-driven life, then go live a fucking purpose-driven life. If you want to be a decent person, go be a decent person right now. Don't waste your goddamn time reading a shitty book written by someone too sleazy to be a car salesman. Don't waste your time searching for the inspiration from Jeebus or "God" or whatever other mascot or talisman one of these bullshitters tells you to put your faith in. Just go and fucking do it. I do not--and probably will never--understand why people waste hours on the weekend listening to someone talk about living like Christ, when they could spend that same time on that same day volunteering to help the poor or improving their community. But hey, the church needs a fresh coat of paint and the pastor needs a new Caddy, and God sure as shit ain't painting and he doesn't own a car dealership. But I digress. Here is the big problem.....my heart is not a capitalist. My heart is not a ruthless, calculating businessman. I've got the skill set to be a total scumbag, but my heart doesn't match. Even in my darkest days of frat guy shenanigans where I would not have let my own daughter in the same town with, let alone room, myself or any of my friends, would I have ever dreamed of cheating people. But now that I am staring 40 more years of work-a-day hell in the face I wonder if someone should stab my heart to death and let my brain start calling the shots? Is speed the answer? Should I become a speed addict? On speed all of your ideas are straight aces and morals become completely negotiable, if not wholly obsolete. Do you think Osteen stands up there in his mega-church giving sermons with those wide-eyes, ethereal and spooky grin, cascading sweat....NOT on speed? Give me a fucking break. He's in the green room doing blasters off the wings of angels and laughing all the way to the bank.