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Doug "Ten" Rose


Fearless Puppy on American Road is a true story so incredible that it reads like a fantasy. Within this book you’ll meet several saintly Tibetan Lamas. You will also meet a man who is his own uncle, specialists in smoke, mirrors, and invisibility, lurid sex, oxygen orgasms, Christian ethics, Jewish ritual, heavenly Hell’s Angels, phony preachers, domestic violence, domestic solutions, racist killers in America, Canadian race wars, Native American wise men, angelic witches, benevolent heroin addicts, magical birds, lesbian musicians playing a rock concert for the deaf, the musician raised by a multi-ethnic group of prostitutes, martial artists battling neo-Nazis, the modern-day Robin Hood, and many other strange and wonderful folks.

This transfictional stealth-dharma self-help gem contains heavy doses of both comedy and drama that give profound psychospiritual assistance under cover of an adventurous thrill-ride. A year-round gift! For sample chapters, author info, reviews, etc. see our website at www.fearlesspuppy.org

Enjoy 444 pages (7x10) of entertainment that is truly unique among book events. Doug “Ten” Rose is an author who (thinks he’s a dog and) is about to become more famous than he ever wanted to be.

ALL profits from the sales of Fearless Puppy (including usual author and publisher percentages) will be donated to funding wisdom professionals, beginning with but not limited to Tibetan Monks and Nuns.

We thank you for your support of The Fearless Puppy Project, WriteAction, iBrattleboro, The Commons, Brattleboro’s great community radio station, and our abundance of incredible local musicians, artists, and writers. Great community talent can only flourish in a great community.

Be well. Please don’t forget to bark less and wag more. All the best.


"I'll Tell You Why" / An excerpt from Fearless Puppy on American Road

Coney Island may historically be the world’s most famous playground. To me it was always just The Neighborhood. I grew up within a five minute walk of the ocean, roller coasters, and Nathan’s famous hot dog emporium. Nathan’s has since gone the way of the chain/franchise, but at that time it was the only Nathan’s restaurant in existence. In the 1950s and early 1960s, before corporate mania, marketing, and God-as-economics took over the world, the franchising of a well loved institution such as Nathan’s would have been considered a trespass punishable by death. Any attempt to minimize the sacred nature of an institution as beloved as Nathan’s would surely have resulted in the demise of the Madison Avenue weasel who came up with the idea.

Times have indeed changed with, and since, the series of mind-numbing assassinations that erased the America we knew. Now that the inmates indeed run the asylum, that same Madison Avenue weasel is a glorified hero instead of a despicable villain. In the American attitude and circumstance of my youth, it would have certainly been different.

Now that the manufactured fear of the Russians has been replaced by a very justifiable fear of ourselves, things have gone further astray. Back then the country was an open road, both figuratively and literally.

Coney Island is at the southernmost part of New York City, the feet of the metropolis, if you will. All the city’s nerve endings originate and end, as they do in any body, in its feet. The most spectacular and efficient mass transit system in the mid-1960s world was the New York City subway system. All its West End lines originated then, as they still do, in the Coney Island terminal across the street from Nathan’s. From Brooklyn’s ocean playground one could get to anywhere in the city and make connections to anywhere in the world. Miracles of educational outreach were accessible for the same price as one of Nathan’s hot dogs.

Why would a 15 year old boy with a New York City native’s knowledge of transportation systems shun both public and private transport and opt to spend the next 35 years hitchhiking throughout North America? Why would anyone bypass the relative ease and safety of bus, train, or a car of his own and open himself to all manner of possible disaster by braving the whims of fate and the moods of passersby?

I’ll tell you why.

I have attended eight different colleges and universities.

I’ve learned more in other people’s cars.

DISCLAIMER—There may be a few misguided folks who will confuse this book’s tone as an encouragement of marijuana, alcohol, and drug use. It is not.

The book is just an account of some living that was obviously overdone a bit.

Moderation, respect for the power of what you’re dealing with, intelligent self-control, and balanced thinking are the keys to success in nearly every undertaking. Forgetting this always costs some hide, and often some flesh.

DISCLAIMER TOO—Always investigate whatever you are getting yourself into. Discriminative awareness is not paranoia. It is intelligent selection. For example, it is standard practice for any authentic Tibetan Master to have a picture of the Dalai Lama within sight. If you go to a Tibetan teacher and do not see a picture of the Dalai Lama on the premises, ask why. You may be getting into something that’s not what you were looking for.

If you are looking for a teacher, make sure you find a real one.




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