Dave Young | Professional Voice Actor for Audiobooks & Commercial

Script:
Dee walks towards me. He's wearing sweats, and his hair looks like he has been dragged through a hedge, so I must have disturbed him. Did I wake you? No, I came down for some water, and Simon was out front. He mentioned you were in here. Just wanted to check in. I'm fine. Just pant up. Uh-huh. Is that code for you getting impatient for some blood? He smirks, knowing me too damn well. I'm just frustrated. Sex ain't working, but this will do for now. All of the frustration that I have managed to push back in the last hour has returned in full force. I know, I'm pissed too. We need to be smart. Take the head off the snake, not just the tail. I know he is right, but I won't give him the satisfaction. We will get them, Lev, I promise. I have always promised that this family comes first, yeah?

Script:
Turning on my heel, I head for the village mess hall. I need to blend in and give them something to remember, considering I plan to vanish for a few days soon. As I enter the expansive, dimly lit hall, it's buzzing with the murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes. Everyone's head turns as I stroll in, their conversation falling into a hushed silence. They know change is coming, they just don't know what kind yet. That's when I spot Lainey again, momentarily facing in my direction. She doesn't see me, but finally I get a clear view of her face. My pulse thumps wildly, fuck, she's devastatingly beautiful. High cheekbones, soft porcelain skin, and mesmerizing icy glacier eyes. Even in her simple brown dress, her curves are undeniable. She must be about twenty or twenty-one years old. The mission of taking her to Blight suddenly seems like it might be more intriguing than I had initially anticipated. The girl in the blue dress rushes into the room, joining what appears to be her parents at a table near the back of the hall. As the meal progresses, my mind remains consumed with thoughts of Sage. With her by my side, the balance of power in Blight will shift. She has no idea yet just how important she truly is.

Script:
Other than with his sisters and mom, he'd never really talked about his dad. How did he die? She was leaning her head at him in that way she did now, forthright and innocent at the same time. He'd asked her that question so many times, about her own parents, but she'd never once asked him before for his details. She wanted to know, this Lucy. Grady nodded, gathering his thoughts. Every July he'd sign on with a commercial fleet going to Alaska, a big king salmon run up there, and a lot of money to be made, and you know, he had seven kids, lots of mouths to feed. He'd be gone the whole month. Grady paused, sighing. It was the week he was supposed to come back, but they hit debris or something and lost the rudder. They started taking on water. I guess the boat sank in something like ten or fifteen minutes. It was in all the papers, thirty-one guys survived, ten didn't. They never found my dad. That was the part that always got him, for some reason, that his dad was alone down there, that it was so cold. Lucy shook her head, reached for his hand. I'm so sorry. That could have been the end of it, but he was on a roll now. He was seen, that day. The swimming dock, the girls on the beach sunning. The way he'd felt before finding out. The way he'd felt after.

Script:
I wasn't planning to hit him tonight, was just tailing the bastard, tracking him, seeing where he went, who he spoke to, what doors he unlocked. But of course the fucker spotted me, a glance over the shoulder that lasted a half a second too long, a twitch in his hand like he knew I was there. He was one of Dagger's mid-level guys, flashy, the type who thought designer belts and rented wheels meant untouchable. It was never about the drugs, it was about the debt. Because someone like Dagger, he doesn't even move without strings tied to every limb. Taking out one of his mid-level guys won't break him, but it'll slice into the supply line. Hard. That's the plan. That's always been a fucking plan. I head down the stairs and across the back alley toward where I parked. But I don't make it. Because she's there. She looks like everything I fucked up, and everything I still want.

Script:
Willow glances over her friend's shoulder to the guy, standing with a smug smirk before she spins Alyssa around and gives her a little push. I track Alyssa and the guy as they make their way through the crowd and out the exit before my gaze settles back on Willow. Carefree, she's still dancing and still in her own little world when she trips, causing her to stumble straight into Dickhead Lawrence. Immediately, his arms go around her waist, trapping her body against his. His eyes burn for her. Willow's burn with frustration. He's a fucking idiot. Everyone in a hundred mile radius knows you don't mess with Willow Helms. She's got a pack of brothers who will shred every last one of us in here before dragging her out and the last thing any of us need is an appearance from them. Exhaling, I slide my chair back and get to my feet. I'm going to put out a fire before it starts. I'll catch up with you tomorrow. I tell Danny and then make my way closer to the flames. Just as I approach, she spins away from Dickhead, the skirt of her turquoise dress whirling up and lands directly into my chest with her hands bracing herself. I clutch them, locking eyes with her. My blues colliding with her browns. You keep this up and you'll have your brothers in here burning the place down.

Script:
I know what I'm about to say is even crazier than anything I've already said, but what the hell. I'd like to see you again. She scoffs and shakes her head, but doesn't bother dignifying my statement with any kind of verbal response. The door opens and her gaze shoots to it, like it's her last salvation. She runs over to grab it before it shuts, startling Hollis as he walks in. It's not wise to do that, but luckily it turned out okay this time. He flicks a gaze at me as she starts to flee. I sit forward and reach for the shoes she forgot to put back on. Hallie, I believe you forgot something. She's halfway out the door when she darts a glance back in my direction. I hold out her shoes, wordlessly inviting her to come get them, but she refuses to move away from the door and let it close again. Taking pity on her, I get up and walk the shoes over to her. I kneel down just inside the doorway and hold out her high heel, like Prince Charming presenting a glass slipper to his intended. Her eyes narrow with dislike, but she offers her pointed foot anyway. I slide the shoe on, careful not to hurt her heel. Then we do the same thing with the other foot. Finally, she is as intact as she can be now that she's met me. Her gaze leaves the moment it can and shifts to Hollis. You're taking me home? He nods dutifully. Yes, I am.

Script:
Janet returned the phone to her purse and twisted the key in the ignition. When the headlights flashed on, she thought her tired eyes were deceiving her. A large, cloaked figure, donning a jester mask, stood only inches from her front bumper. She squinted, blinked, knowing that mask, but not knowing why. What the hell did this guy want? She palmed the horn, figuring that would startle him enough to send him on his way. But he didn't so much as flinch. She looked all around her. Were the doors all locked? Windows rolled up? Yes. She was safe, but unable to make her escape until he moved. Hey! she cried, loud enough so she was sure he could hear. It's late, and I'm in no mood for this. How about you take it somewhere else, huh? No response, and not even the slightest movement. As she stared closely at the mask, she studied the sequined beading and sparkling jewels, the dangling ribbons, and the rainbow of colors, seeing something in the wide, cartoonish eyes, and even wider smile. It was then that she recognized the mask as being part of the bloodletting teaser poster. What was this? A die-hard fan out causing a stir? Janet continued to look, continued to watch, certain he'd make some sudden movement. But he may as well have been a stone-carved statue, for nothing at all seemed to faze him, not even when she revved the engine and laid on the horn a second time. She wondered if she should call the police. But what the hell would she tell them? She didn't feel threatened, not yet, anyway. And she was too damn tired, and it was too damn late for this nonsense. All she wanted was to be on her way. How long would this game of cat and mouse last?

Script:
I didn't mention that if she allowed the bartender or the host to touch her, it would add another day to her sentence. Without loose she had been playing it with the two of them, I knew she was in for a long and frustrating week. I smirked to myself. This form of torture was even more fun than murder. I wish I had thought of it sooner.

Script:
Will Thompson opened his eyes. There was a pain in the back of his head, dull and throbbing, and as he looked out into the world around him, something looked disquietingly off. He was in the middle of a forest, which should mean that the majority of the colors seen here would be brown and green, but in the glow cast by his headlights, everything around him was either in shades of gray or red. He strained his head, trying to remember what he had learned about head injuries from one of his many classes on emergency first aid that were required for forest rangers. His head ached more from the effort. Concussion or not, he had to get out of here and find a place to sit tight for the duration of the storm. He got to his feet slowly and looked at his ruined jeep. The tree that had knocked him down was now resting in a deep crevice that dominated the roof and cradled by a bent roll bar. He turned to head back to the tower, but something stopped him. He turned back. At the edge of the woods, on the other side of the highway, was a young girl, standing in stark contrast to the gray and red world around her. She was wearing a yellow sundress. He blinked groggily. Then squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them. She was still there, now motioning impatiently for him to come to her. He stumbled forward to meet her, forgetting the creaking and smashing sounds that filled the woods around him. We have to hurry. There's something you need to see, but we must hurry. He heard her clearly, though she was still easily a hundred feet away from him. His feet dragged along the ground like the ambling steps of a zombie in one of the classic horror movies he loved. His legs felt heavy and awkward, and he wondered if there might be some spinal damage to go along with the head injury. He shivered in his wet clothes, but he pushed on. As he got to the other side of the highway, she turned and began walking away from him. This had to be a product of the concussion that he was now sure he was suffering from, but he could not bring himself to resist her. She stopped periodically and looked back over her shoulder at him, repeating her previous hurry-up gesture. He pushed himself, urgently trying to keep up with her, but where he was fighting against low limbs and thick underbrush, she gracefully covered the terrain without apparent issue. He stepped on a root and almost turned his ankle. He felt a vine brush past his leg and wondered what the chances were that it was poison ivy. It wasn't quite dark yet, and he could see well enough, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the girl to watch his feet. He heard another crack in the trees to his left, followed by a dull thud. The weather's getting kind of bad. Is it safe where we're going? She turned and smiled at him. You will be safe as long as you are with the trees. The wind howled and whistled through the canopy. The world was falling apart around them. He wasn't sure if he could trust his own senses in that moment, but he felt something here that he couldn't put his finger on. Had she brought the tree down? And what was she? Empirical evidence suggested that she was a ghost. But then again, empirical evidence also suggested that he had sustained major head trauma and very well might be laying in a puddle next to his ruined jeep. If it wasn't real, and he couldn't wake up until his body was ready, then he supposed that there was no harm in continuing on. If he was awake, something about her really did make him feel safer. If he was awake, he'd rather ride out the storm following her through the forest. If she really needed him, then he could oblige. He could already feel a surging sense of purpose. After a while, they hit the crest of a hill and began walking down the other side, eventually moving into a dry creek bed, where they stopped. She turned back to him and raised a hand to point to a spot on the bank. There, under the pine needles. He jumped into action, leaping to the other side of the long dead waterway and frantically clearing away the needles. His finger happened on something hard. It felt wrong. He looked down and in the faint light, he could just make out the orbit and surrounding bones of a human skull. Frozen in place, he looked back up at the girl. She was smiling. Was that you? He heard himself asking. No, silly. If that were me, how could I be standing here? Oh, yes, of course. He mumbled back, slightly embarrassed. It was someone that I loved once. There was a definite note of sorrow in her voice. Let's leave it at that for now. We still have a long walk ahead of us, Erin. My name is Will. He became worried that she had made a mistake in choosing him. It is for now, but who we are and who we become are often different matters. She said this without looking back at him. He got to his feet and followed after her. Only now, he could hear the distinct rhythmic crunch of another person's footsteps following behind him. It was definitely another person, and judging by the sounds of the pine needles and snapping twigs, this other person outweighed him by a significant amount. He kept his eyes on the girl. They were with the trees, where nothing would hurt him.

Script:
They were quiet as June drove east, each lost in their own thoughts, watching the landscape scroll by. Peter was wondering about the Yeti and what he might have gotten up to in the 15 years since his daughter left home, and he wondered about June. She took the exit to the Deschutes River Recreation Area, where they planned to camp for the night. Louis needed the time to get down to the falls. Peter had no idea what Manny would do, for all he knew, Manny had a friend with a surplus Huey who dropped them directly into the valley. Lacking a helicopter, Manny and his guys were more than capable of any technical climb necessary to get where they needed to go. They found a site by the melt-swollen Deschutes and set up camp, not speaking more than necessary to get things done. Peter had a crate of scrap lumber in the truck, and he built a small fire in the rusty iron ring. June sat in one of his little folding chairs and watched the kindling ignite. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, Peter finally said. This was part of what he'd been thinking about, how to get to this. Your dad could have an army in there, and I'm guessing Chip will be right behind us with everything he's got. June stared at him across the fire, her eyes alight in the flickering flame. He had no idea what she was thinking. I think you should stay here, he said, where it's safe. When it's over, Louis or I will come get you. June shook her head. I need to see him, she said. If he's really part of this, I have to be part of ending it, or I'll never resolve it myself in my own mind. I'll keep falling for the wrong guy. Peter had wondered when they'd get to this part. Am I the wrong guy? She gave him a richly layered smile. You're the right guy for right now, she said. You might be the first right guy I've ever been with, but I'm still a work in progress. I can't make any promises, no matter how things turn out tomorrow. She didn't say this. You're a killer, Peter, and I like you. I've slept with you, might even be falling in love with you. So what does that say about me? And you're damaged, you're unemployed, you have no fixed address, your life is a mess. You can't even sleep inside. A girl wants to stay in a nice hotel every once in a while, a girl wants to have a home. But she didn't need to say it, because he could already hear it in his head. Instead, she stood up and walked over to him, leaned in close, for a kiss, a soft, deep kiss. When he closed his eyes, it was like falling off a cliff, like flying, until you hit the ground.

Script:
Sophie couldn't sleep. A brilliant moonbeam was slanting through the gap in the curtains. It was shining right on to her pillow. The other children in her dormitory had been asleep for hours. Sophie closed her eyes and lay quite still. She tried very hard to doze off. It was no good. The moonbeam was like a silver blade slicing through the room on to her face. The house was absolutely silent. No voices came from downstairs. There were no footsteps on the floor above, either. The window behind the curtain was wide open, but nobody was walking on the pavement outside. No cars went by on the street. Not the tiniest sound could be heard anywhere. Sophie had never known such silence.

Script:
This is the Jewel of the Bay, San Francisco. My name is Troy Washington, a detective with the San Francisco PD, and the story I am about to tell you is true, except for the parts that I made up. It all started a few months back on one of those typical warm, sunny, fucking freezing San Francisco days. That morning, his unmarked gray 88 Chevy Caprice screeched around the corner. At the wheel was the man, Detective Harry Hallahan, Harry's ruggedly handsome and macho to the max. Before all this happened, he was the toughest cop I ever knew. Hell, by noon, he'd have a 5 o'clock shadow. Harry was a man's man, and trust me, they're hard to find in San Francisco. It was 8.15. Harry had only been on duty for a few minutes when his Caprice slid to a stop in the emergency entrance of Martin Luther King Hospital. Harry wasn't really a negotiator, but us cops depended on his, shall we say, problem-solving abilities. So with other officers and hospital employees hiding behind squad cars out front, Harry, with weapon drawn, stepped onto the rubber platform activating the sliding door. With a wispy, horse-fart sound, it slid open, and he stepped into the large reception area. Cautiously, he made his way over to the admittance counter. Lying on the floor behind the counter and moaning in pain is an 18-year-old candy striper shot in the upper shoulder point-blank. Harry kneels down to take a closer look at her wound. Seeing that her injury isn't life-threatening, he whispers, You'll be alright, kiddo. Just hold on. Where is he? Through the pain, the girl manages to lift her arm and point toward the hallway and says, He went down that way. Crash! Harry wheels around at the sound of bottles breaking on the floor from down the hall. With a whimper, she tells him, He was asking for drugs. I don't know where anything is, but he wouldn't listen. Harry shushes her with his finger to his lips, then stands and cautiously makes his way down the corridor toward the crashing sounds. Going down the short corridor, Harry snatched open a door on the right. It's a small closet. A little further down, he jerked open another door. It's a supply room. Harry realizes the perp has to be in the next door, so he cocked the hammer of his .44 and slowly peeked in. Inside, he sees a man dressed as Bozo the Clown with his gun down at his side, ransacking the cabinets. Bozo shouts, Son of a bitch, where are they? Harry steps in the room and calmly says, Don't turn around. Bozo freezes. Harry says, Lay the weapon on the floor. Bozo turned his head ever so slightly, and Harry shouted, I said don't turn around. Just lay down the gun. Bozo paused with a crazy smile. Harry realizes what's coming, and fires. Blam! Shot in the ass, Bozo screams and drops like a lead weight. Harry quickly moves in and picks up Bozo's gun. Bozo shouts, You said don't turn around. I didn't turn around. Harry smirks and says, Yeah, but you were thinking about it. Bozo lets out another whimper, and Harry shouts, Shut up. It ain't that bad. He shows Bozo the .44. If I'd wanted to, your brains would be all over that wall. Harry unholsters his radio and clicks the button, I've got him, come on in. He looks down at Bozo for a second, and then asks, Why are you dressed up like a clown? Bozo matter-of-factly replies, I just did a kid's birthday party. Harry shakes his head, then kicks Bozo in the gut. He lets out a moan, and again Harry shouted, Shut up. Then into the radio, Take care of the candy striper at the desk. Let's let this clown bleed. Harry stands there staring at Bozo as they wait. A few seconds later, officers burst into the room with guns out. Harry kicks Bozo again and tells the others, Get this clown out of here. The police snatch Bozo to his feet, cuff him, then drag him toward the door. One of the uniformed cops looks back at Harry and gives him a tip of the cap. Harry nods, then holsters his .44 and follows them out. Outside the hospital, with cops and hospital employees everywhere, Harry walks out and over to the candy striper lying on a gurney in the paramedic wagon. As he arrives, one of the paramedics gives him the thumbs up as Harry leans against the door, smiles, and tells her, You're going to be alright. Through the pain, she forces a smile. Harry pats her on the leg, turns, and heads for his car. With all eyes on him, Harry gets in his patrol car and slowly drives down the emergency lane and onto the street. He wasn't more than a block from the hospital when Esther the dispatcher, a chubby chick with seven kids, starts calling his number, 667, are you busy? Harry quickly picks up the mic from the dash and says, Not now, what's up?

Script:
I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but you can't just go around telling people they're your soulmate. I'm not telling you. You just are. It's a fact. I state with confidence. And that means I'll protect you. I'll kill anyone who tries to harm you or take you away from me. What if you're the one who's harming me? I'm hurting you? Horrified at myself. I stop walking and mentally inquire the bond for Malin's feelings. I take stock of where I'm holding her. But I don't think she's in pain. I'd feel it if she were. Fane and Merrick are still with us, though they've fallen back, giving us more space to have a private conversation. Thank the suns. I'm already humiliated enough by Malin's rejection. If I were to injure my own mate on our wedding day, I'd consider myself the worst failure of a husband. No, she says softer. I didn't mean it like that. By not letting me go, you're breaking my heart. She doesn't understand. As mates, we belong to each other. Or else, there will be dire consequences, deadly side effects. You don't know the meaning of heartbreak, I tell her. And if her life is as good as she claims it's been, then it's true. And that's good news for me. My dark soul needs someone pure and light. Someone whole and untainted. Malin is that person. Fate got it right. She's sunshine and I'm the shadows. She'll balance me out. We'll compliment each other. I decide we've done enough talking.

Script:
I'll pay you generously to pretend to be my girlfriend for a weekend at my parents' house in the Hamptons." There was no other way to say it. I just laid it all out there. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell open. Why? Why you or why do I need a fake girlfriend? Both. Why I want you is easy. I shifted so that my leg bumped hers and I reached out and flipped the ends of her dark hair. Because I want you. We have chemistry and that's very believable. I eyed her lips. I really wanted to kiss her. She bit her bottom lip, further enticing me. There is truth to that. But why do you need to lie to your parents? Because they are obsessed with me being in a relationship and my father is threatening to fire me if I don't produce a girlfriend. I can't let that happen. I've worked my ass off at that company. That seems very manipulative, she murmured. On their part, I mean. Very. My parents' anniversary party is next weekend. We would go up Friday and come back Sunday. I ran my hand down her bare arm. You'd have to, you know, kiss me and pretend to like me, share my room, the usual. I see. She glanced back at the stage. No. Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact. It took me a second to realize she was rejecting my offer. What? Why? She wrinkled her nose. I'm not an escort. You should hire one. I'm sure there are reputable escort services that men like you know about. I'd offended her and I hadn't meant to do that. The accidental vibrator delivery definitely hadn't helped plead my case. I don't want an escort. I want an actress. I know you're an excellent one and I happen to like you, Leah. Leah studied me. I can't spend a weekend with you pretending to be your girlfriend and having sex with you for money without feeling weird about it. Okay, so that had come across all wrong. Time to change tactics. Give the control to her. I made no assumption sex was a part of the deal. It's only two nights and we'll be in my parents' house. We could have sex when we got back to Manhattan and I was no longer paying her because I had already tossed out the window the idea that I could resist Leah indefinitely. But for a weekend? I could manage to keep my hands to myself. Self-discipline. It's my middle name.

Script:
Deep in the mountains of western Szechuan, I'm hacking through a bamboo jungle trying to find a legendary trail, but my search could be in vain. Time, weather, and invasive plants may have wiped out the road. Then, with one sweep of my axe, the bamboo falls. Before me is a four-foot wide cobblestone trail curving up through the forest, slick with green moss and almost overgrown. Some of the stones are pitted with water-filled divots, left by hundreds of thousands of porters who trod this trail for a millennium. I am standing on what's left of this famous, but now all but forgotten, route, the Tea Horse Road.

Script:
Much later, I would identify some major flaws in this logic. Most glaringly, the assumption that the human species—and I did have humans specifically in mind when I formulated this theory—necessarily must survive a global catastrophe of this sort. It was a very anthropocentric conception, to be sure, but the idea was also immensely exciting to me at the time, and it wasn't so much the idea as that excitement over the possibilities this opened up for the future, my own, and mankind's, where all of its value truly lay. It was, for me, a true peak experience—only the second one in my life since my discovery of free thinking, in poker, almost exactly three years before, and it would lead, in the next few months, to an explosion of fruitful thought. I sat there for several hours that day, staring into the charming greenery of the little garden, these thoughts and ideas flowing effortlessly in and out of my mind. I had absolutely no doubt about it at the time. I recognized it immediately. This was free thinking. It was that same ability to think for myself and reason on the basis of only the surest facts, though this time they didn't come exclusively from experience, that I discovered three years ago. I was now applying it to the real world, to science, and the fact that I could now recognize the eternal marvel and mystery of the universe, to contemplate it, and to even try to unravel and understand it through the power of my own mind, filled me with a very real sense of awe, a kind of profound rapture, simultaneously at the wonder of the world and my own newfound ability to perceive it. These musings on eternity, in turn, made the green garden setting in front of me stand out in the most acute vividness. It took on an almost symbolic meaning for me, as the present embodiment of the inestimable natural forces I was contemplating. Over billions of years, from the very first shutters of molecular life on earth, by an unfathomable process of evolution and pure chance stretching forward for eons upon eons until this very moment, all of it had to happen exactly that way and no other, all in order to grant me life on this earth and create for me, today, this little garden oasis. It was a profoundly aesthetic and reverential feeling.

Script:
When I started research with this problem of creativity, it was entirely an academic and professorial one. I've been amazed to be plucked at in the last couple of years by big industries of which I know nothing, or organizations like the U.S. Army Engineers, whose work I don't really know at all, and I find myself a little uneasy, like many of my colleagues on this score. I am not sure whether the work that I have done, and the conclusions that I have come to, and what we know about creativity today, is quite usable in its present form in large organizations. All I can present are essentially paradoxes, and problems, and riddles, and at this moment, I don't know how they're going to be solved. What I am talking about is the lone wolf. The kind of creative people that I've worked with are people who are apt to get ground up in an organization, apt to be afraid of it, and apt generally to work off in a corner or an attic by themselves. The problem of the place of the lone wolf in a big organization, I'm afraid, is the organization's problem, and not mine.

Script:
Chapter 6 Psychopathy and Psychoneurosis In terms of the theory of positive disintegration, psychopathy represents a primitive structure of impulses integrated at a low level. The intelligence is subordinated to this structure and plays the role of an instrument. The psychopath possesses a strong constitutional factor, low sensitivity to other people's attitudes, and strong egocentric dynamics. He is indifferent to everything except his own small needs. The psychopath does not experience the anxiety one sees in the psychoneurotic. He does not suffer conflict in his internal milieu. In other words, he never undergoes a period of multilevel disintegration.

Script:
In the seminar Michael and I were delivering, it would mean changing from being financially terrified to being financially fearless. How might we illustrate that? How could we dramatize the difference between information and transformation? Michael had an idea. Many of our 25 attendees were coaches and consultants. All of the attendees were independent business people. Most of them also had Major League Western Society money fear, as in, money is my oxygen. Michael and I talked about this transformative idea, and then he introduced it to the group. We were holding our seminar at a nice resort in Scottsdale, Arizona. Our people loved their break time because they could go out by the pool, or relax in their rooms, or sit in the spacious lobby. But this would be the break from hell.

Script:
The intention is to inspire an insight, and when you get a new insight, it never leaves you with anything you have to try to remember. Like the distinction between perceiving the world like an owner and perceiving it like a victim, a clear distinction, an unforgettable contrast. When you see it, and when you get the contrast, it is yours forever. You own your insight. You're like the young King Arthur of legend, pulling the sword Excalibur from the stone. Now the sword was his, and he would be the once and future king. When you clearly get how distinct two things are, you'll never lose that distinction. For example, life and death. It's a contrasting distinction. I believe you've already gotten that one, because when you were a young child, there was a point at which you learned about death and how it was different and distinct from life. I remember when I was three years old, and there was a dead bird on the road. My father was pushing me in a stroller, and I pointed at the bird, and he explained to me that the bird was dead. And for the first time, I got the distinction. Something could be living, or something could be dead. Once you get a distinction, you've got it. You don't have to revisit it and continuously remind yourself of it.

Script:
Chapter 44. It seems like adding would be the answer, right? What's missing? What do I need to add to my life? Adding. Adding activities. Adding projects. Adding contacts. Adding investors. Adding knowledge. But subtraction is the real key, because subtraction leads to simplicity and power. Bruce Lee said he did not fear the opponent who knew and had added an additional 10,000 kicks. He feared the opponent who practiced one kick 10,000 times.

Script:
If you have ever worked on a team project that had your A grade dragged down to a lower grade of B or C players who did not pull their weight, you immediately grasp the A player concept and the importance of only having A players on your team. Being a great team member on a fantastic team is the recipe for success in any endeavor. People have understood this concept in the world of academics and sports for decades. For some reason, however, we have too long tolerated B and C players in the workforce. This is baffling. For unlike school and sports, unless you are a pro athlete, at work we are now playing for our own livelihood. The stakes are much higher, so to speak. If you stop to think about it, this is actually staggering as your job and career prospects are directly linked to your organization's performance. If your company is tolerating B and C underperformers, then by definition the company could be performing better, which hurts both the immediate and long-term compensation, benefits, and growth you and other top performers should be receiving. With this revelation, there is no successful argument for why we should have B and C players on a team. So what is an A player? An A player is defined as an employee who is in the top 10% of their industry. A players are the employees that would be enthusiastically rehired by their employers. If you think about it a moment, defining A players as the top 10% of the industry is actually very liberating to an organization as there is no constraint to force rank people on the team. Since we are evaluating from an industry-wide vantage point, the very exciting possibility of creating an entire all-star team of A players in our own organizations becomes a reality. Therefore, our teams can be comprised of 100% A players. A players are aligned in their careers and absolutely shine in their roles. They are employees who make all the goodness in an organization happen. Their performance and great attitudes are almost magical. If you are reading this book, you are either an employee who aspires to be an A player or one who has already achieved A player status and knows they can be even better. Or you may be an executive leader looking for an essential playbook designed for companies who want to build an A player culture. The A player offers employees and teams the roadmap to help get them there. Outstanding employees drive great companies and in turn great companies provide amazing career opportunities for those employees who align with their mission and purpose. It is truly a two-way street. Great companies are inherently vested in your success. However, just like all-stars are voted on annually in professional sports, achieving and then maintaining A player status requires continual effort. We can lose it just as quickly as we receive it. We cannot rest on our laurels. The expectations increase as we reach higher levels in our careers. Why are A players so important? Most people are not thrilled to have surgery performed by a B player heart surgeon or fly on an airplane piloted by a B player pilot. Obviously, these are mission-critical occupations and there is no room for B or C players to be at the helm in such sensitive situations. Similarly, the work you do is important. You are mission-critical to your employer and your customers. Thus, there is no room for the mediocrity that a B or C player offers. On average, an A player produces at least two to three times the quality and volume of work of the B player, which is why A players are so greatly coveted. We don't settle for B or C player surgeons or airline pilots, so why should an employer settle for less than the absolute best in their specific industry? The reality is that they should not. Likewise, if you are a leader who manages people, you cannot settle for underperformers who will drag the team's, and your own, performance down. This book will give you the tools to shape your team into a group of high performers. It will help you identify, lead, coach, and develop A players, as well as become a better leader yourself. In fact, leaders need to understand A player acumen better than anyone else. Remember, the rest of the organization rises or falls to your level of leadership competency, so you need to model the way. These aforementioned tools will help you serve your organization at the highest possible level while also achieving your personal best. Being an A player helps you achieve excellence, which produces a more long-term and altruistic impact for a much larger constituency than just yourself. When you do your best, you become more personally satisfied. Your company's leadership is also more satisfied, and the organization flourishes. Everybody wins. Being an A player employee will not guarantee you job security, but will guarantee you career security, as the services of the best employees are always in high demand.

Script:
What is it about traffic that drives people to do crazy things, like reading the newspaper, text message, or eat a bowl of cereal? Why not kick back and relax on public transit? Give public transit a try.

Script:
If it was Sunday in Seattle and your wife handed you a list of chores, you'd promise to clean those gutters after work some night or maybe next Saturday, but not Sunday.

Script:
A pound of slow roasted pork sliced thin, smothered in pepper jack cheese, onions, peppers, lettuce and tomato. And friend, you don't just have lunch, you have love in the afternoon.

Script:
Alaska isn't just a state, it's a state of mind. In a land where 12 degrees can signal a warming trend, some traditions are worth keeping.

Script:
Unlike investment banks, FITS Commerce wasn't created to underwrite stocks. Why is that so important? It means there are no hidden agendas when we buy or sell stocks for you. And mostly, it means we can help you realize your goals. It's what we do.

Script:
Does peace of mind have a name? Can confidence and trust be summed up in one word? Our scientists and engineers are working every day to answer those questions. Peace of mind does have a name.

Script:
The gift of a card redeemable for coffee. You're giving a friend a gift of hot brown liquid. Want to really give them a thrill? Give Scratch from the Washington State Lottery instead.

Script:
We found a way to gift wrap Safeco Field for the holidays with the Seattle Mariners Holiday Ticket Gift Pack. Holiday Ticket Gift Packs start at just $50. Go ahead, put Safeco Field under the tree this holiday.

Script:
This is the story of a startup. A different kind of startup. You could say they lacked a strategy, but what they had was gumption, a belief in the power of nature. People took notice.

Script:
National Geographic 125 years captures the heart of the National Geographic Society's fascinating history. National Geographic 125 years focuses on the impact the Society has made on the world and how it has reported and reflected a dramatically changing planet.

Script:
Security, a basic human need, a vital part of your business, and our unmatched customer service means we'll be there when you need us.

Script:
The William and Flora Hewlett Foundation is concerned with solving complex social and environmental problems with a practical and results-oriented approach to philanthropy. The Foundation supports innovative as well as time-tested strategies for addressing those problems.

Script:
Unlike investment banks, Gelderhoffmann wasn't created to underwrite stocks. For over 60 years, we've specialized in one thing, money management. It's what we do.

Script:
To us, our policyholders are really buying a promise that we'll be here to pay a claim, fund your retirement, or pay for nursing home costs. That's why we focus on what really matters in the long term, financial strength and integrity.

Script:
What defines us? When someone thinks of us, is it our trophies they'll remember? No, it's the details that matter most.

Script:
The gift of a card redeemable for coffee. You're giving a friend a gift of hot brown liquid. Want to really give them a thrill? Give Scratch from the Washington State Lottery instead.

Script:
We know you'd go to the ends of the earth for the ones you love. Thankfully, there's a better way right where you live. To offer advanced care where it matters most. What better place is there to be treated?

Script:
National Geographic 125 years captures the heart of the National Geographic Society's fascinating history. National Geographic 125 years focuses on the impact the Society has made on the world and how it has reported and reflected a dramatically changing planet.

Script:
What is it about traffic that drives people to do crazy things, like reading the newspaper, text message, or eat a bowl of cereal? Why not kick back and relax on public transit? Give public transit a try.

Script:
He turned to head back to the tower, but something stopped him. At the edge of the woods, on the other side of the highway, was a young girl, standing in stark contrast to the grey and red world around her.

Script:
Gold Star invites you to Go Vegetarian. Gold Star Vegetarian Chili is made in small batches with our famous blend of 13 spices.

Script:
Alaska isn't just a state, it's a state of mind. In a land where 12 degrees can signal a warming trend, some traditions are worth keeping.

Script:
In the Caribbean Sea, 60 miles off the coast of Florida, there is a paradise known as the Bahamas. But these visitors aren't here for sun or sand. They've come to search for a lost world called Blue Holes. Diving them will take explorers back thousands of years, where there are hints of an ancient lost Bahamas.

Script:
A pound of slow roasted pork sliced thin, smothered in pepper jack cheese, onions, peppers, lettuce and tomato. And friend, you don't just have lunch, you have love in the afternoon.

Script:
Turning on my heel, I head for the village mess hall. I need to blend in and give them something to remember, considering I plan to vanish for a few days soon. As I enter the expansive, dimly lit hall, it's buzzing with the murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes. Everyone's head turns as I stroll in, their conversation falling into a hushed silence. They know change is coming, they just don't know what kind yet.

Script:
Mitochondrial diseases are a heterogeneous group of disorders in which mitochondrial dysfunction produces clinical disease. In the central and peripheral neuromuscular systems, they include such diverse disorders as Alper's disease, a progressive cerebral polyodystrophy of infancy, and carnitine palmitoyltransferase deficiency, a relatively benign disorder characterized by exercise-induced myoglobinuria. Mitochondrial myopathies are diseases in which the clinical presentation and course of illness are dominated by pathological involvement of muscle.

Script:
What defines us? Are we our job, our possessions, or even our accomplishments? When someone thinks of us, is it our trophies they'll remember? No. When someone we love passes, it's usually not the big things we miss the most, but rather it's the details. It's all the irreplaceable little things, things other people may have never even noticed. That, taken together, make up the complex, subtle, and unique mosaics of the people we love. It's the details that separate them from everyone else. It's the details that matter most to them and to us.

Script:
This film is going to be a 10-minute educational and entertaining story about the history of hemp through the ages up until the point of prohibition at the turn of the century. The story will also highlight the uses of the plant through the ages as a medicine and textile. Up until recent times, the plant was regarded as public enemy number one. Consuming it carried a jail sentence and unfortunately still does in some parts of the world. Hemp wasn't always considered a public menace. Some evidence shows that hemp rope was found in pottery artifacts around 8000 BC. Ancient civilizations soon discovered its medicinal values as well.

Script:
Your dentist wants you to watch this video so that you are completely comfortable with your upcoming Water Lays hydrokinetic procedure. We want you to be informed so in the next 15 minutes you will learn about the latest care options and how they will affect you.

Script:
Moderate exercise boosts your immune system, while extreme exercise depresses the immune system. That's according to new research from Dr. David C. Nyman. Recently, to see if exercise could stave off aging's debilitating effects, he studied exceptionally active women in their 70s and 80s.

Script:
Depression is a mental illness characterized by a profound and persistent feeling of sadness or despair. Disturbance in sleep, appetite, and mental processes are a common accompaniment. When these depressed feelings start to dominate everyday life, they become what is known as depression.

Script:
Life-saving medical tech has made light years of progress, but cyber security has been left in the dark. Medical devices save and support lives, but also put patients and hospitals at risk of cyber attack. Traditional IT security doesn't work for the healthcare industry. Introducing Scenario, medical-first IoT cybersecurity. Agentless, AI-powered, and actionable. Cyber security that focuses on what matters most. Devices that are critical to patient safety and care.

Script:
Marijuana, the most popular drug of the 60s, is up to 20 times more powerful today than it was in the days of flower power. Pot was once thought to be a drug with few negative effects. Now there is concrete evidence that marijuana is harmful. It interferes with learning, and it impairs the healthy growth and development of children. This potent form of marijuana has 2 to 3 times the THC levels needed to cause severe psychological symptoms. Marijuana affects the brain, interfering with the ability to remember and think clearly, and to drive safely.

Script:
This is the Gobi Desert in southern Mongolia, and it's poised to become one of the world's biggest mines. A natural resource boom has transformed the country, making it the fastest growing economy on the planet.

Script:
This film is going to be a 10-minute educational and entertaining story about the history of hemp. The story will also highlight the uses of the plant through the ages as a medicine and textile. Up until recent times, the plant was regarded as public enemy number one.

Script:
For the wildebeest, the grassy is life, but it's also cover for the enemy. This lion, hidden in the grass, senses an opportunity. In the moment, one wildebeest, one lion. But in the bigger picture, it's the grassland's quintessential balancing act.

Script:
The sheer physical power of the ocean dominates our planet. A tiny island lost in the midst of the Pacific is the tip of a huge mountain. But all the creatures that swim beside it would not be here, were it not for one key factor.

Script:
Homo sapiens, the name for you, me, and every human being that exists on this planet. We evolved from Africa about 200,000 years ago and carried on evolving until we became what we are today.

Script:
The building of the Panama Canal was one of the most grandiose, dramatic, and sweeping adventures of all time. Spanning nearly half a century, it enlisted men, nations, and money on a scale never before seen in all of history.

Script:
Did God invent humanity? Or did we invent God? Pioneering scientists are trekking across new frontiers of neuroscience that may, at last, provide an answer to this ancient mystery.

Script:
Marijuana is up to 20 times more powerful today than it was in the days of flower power. This potent form of marijuana has 2 to 3 times the THC levels needed to cause severe psychological symptoms.

Script:
In the Caribbean Sea, 60 miles off the coast of Florida, there is a paradise known as the Bahamas. But these visitors aren't here for sun or sand. They've come to search for a lost world called Blue Holes. Diving them will take explorers back thousands of years, where there are hints of an ancient lost Bahamas.

Script:
A tiny island lost in the midst of the Pacific, it's the tip of a huge mountain that rises precipitously from the seafloor thousands of meters below. Isolated seamounts like this one create oases where life can flourish in the comparatively empty expanses of the open ocean.

Script:
When a school is failing, what can parents do? More than you think. Here are three ways parents are making a difference. Number one, the parent trigger. In Texas, if your school has failed for five years in a row, parents can petition to intervene. The best practices say it's better to intervene sooner rather than later. That's why in other states, parents can start the intervention after only three years. Number two, the achievement school district. Imagine a school that's failing year after year. Some states send in a dedicated team to take over the school and run it. In New Orleans, this program has cut dropout rates in half. And three, investing in teachers. In other states, teachers are treated like the professionals they are, given the training and tools they need to become better teachers and help students achieve. These are three ways parents are helping failing schools. See more at TexansDeserveGreatSchools.org.

Script:
Words. They can do anything. They can call in a dog at night. They can bring comfort to an old friend. But sometimes words can get you into trouble. Like the human rights activist who was kidnapped for standing up to government corruption. Or the journalist sentenced to 10 years in prison for sending an email. Or the thousands of men and women who are arrested and tortured just for demanding fair elections. Now we need your words to demand justice. To offer hope to people around the world who are silenced for simply speaking their minds. Write a letter or speak out today. Your words can lead to their freedom.

Script:
Jobs are leaving the state in record numbers, while John Jacobson continues to be an outspoken advocate for outsourcing. Keep jobs where they belong, in state. Vote Nadine Ronald for a better economic future. Paid for by Nadine Ronald for Governor.

Script:
Smear campaigns, mudslinging, twisting the truth. Why do politicians resort to such underhanded tactics? Do they think it really helps their campaign? It's ugly, uncalled for, and deceitful. So why do we allow them to continue? It's time to level the playing field. You want our vote? Then focus on the issues that affect us all. This election season, advocate for a clean election process. Paid for by the Committee for Cleaner Elections.

Script:
You sent a message to Washington. Loud and clear. Focus on the economy and jobs. Show the taxpayers that Congress can work again. Unfortunately, others have a different agenda. The same politicians who brought us a government shutdown and led the U.S. to the brink of default have a new bad idea. Ending the Ex-Im Bank, which is designed to help American employers and American jobs. These jobs and workers in the export-import economy deserve support. Do the right thing for our economy and support the Ex-Im Bank.

Script:
Dr. Ben Carson has been well-known for years as a world-class surgeon, serving at John Hopkins Hospital as head of pediatric neurosurgery. On February 7, 2013, he became known for the first time as a rising star in conservative politics. That was the day when he spoke at the National Prayer Breakfast, eloquently expressing his conservative ideals. Since his groundbreaking speech, Dr. Carson has continued to rise in popularity among conservatives, and many have speculated about whether he will run for president.