Costco Shopping With The Dalai Lama

(Author’s note: I usually post on Tuesday, but I thought this was a fun read and in times such as these all fragments of fun should be expelled into the zeitgeist immediately. So this is the letter I wrote asking the Dalai Lama to come Costco shopping with me. You have to write your own.)

Dear Dalai Lama:

How are you? I mean, besides the obvious: wondrous, compassionate, quadrilingual, holier than, well, everything, and about a million other fabulous adjectives. I’ll bet your word cloud could make a Seattle winter seem sunny.

I’ll come clean at the outset: I’m not religious, and I don’t believe in reincarnation—though if I’m wrong and you have any say in the matter, I’d love to come back as a pelican. But your brand of Tibetan Buddhism seems more like a lovely personal philosophy than the magical thinking that usually governs organized religion, and I really like your top five human values: compassion, forgiveness, tolerance, contentment and self-discipline. I’ll admit I’m better at the first four than that last one, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy that would hold that against me.

Now I realize you’ve had an incredibly rich life, and for all I know there’s nothing left on your bucket list. Well, except that whole reincarnation thing. Not even you can pull that off in a single lifetime. You’ve traveled to 62 countries on six continents—not exactly chopped liver—and I’m sure everywhere you’ve gone, your hosts have rolled out the red carpet, which I’ll bet went nicely with your maroon robe and its kicky gold stripe.

Speaking of, I hear you came to New York last month to get your knee replaced at the Hospital for Special Surgery. Makes sense, cuz who’s more special than you, with monikers like “The Precious Jewel-like Buddha-Master,” “The Presence,” and “The Wish-Fulfilling Gem.” Beats my childhood nickname: “Doofus McMonkey Buns.” And I see you stayed at the Park Hyatt on the Upper East Side. Did you use an alias to check in like the rock star you are? Elton John had some good ones—my favorites were Sir Binky Poodleclip, Sir Humphrey Handbag, and Bobo Latrine.

My point is that while you’ve been lots of places and done lots of extremely cool and worthwhile stuff, my guess is there’s one amazing place you’ve never been: Costco. I realize you’re about as spiritually enlightened as it gets, and your grace and inclusiveness know no bounds, but get ready to get wide-eyed in a seriously temporal realm, because Costco is the Mount Everest—sorry, you know it as Chomolungma, or Goddess Mother of the World—of shopping.

You’re gonna love it there. First, you get this ginormous shopping cart, because everything is mega-sized. It’s like being the kids in Honey, I Shrunk The Kids. Not a Rick Moranis fan? Understood, his biting satire on late 20th-century Middle America may not translate so well into Gelug which, while the newest of the four traditions of Tibetan Buddhism, has been around since the mid-14th century.

Anyway, first thing we should do is get a snack to fortify ourselves, because a Costco trip means several miles of walking while pushing a cart groaning with bargains. Since I hear you have a terrific sense of humor, that reminds me of a joke:

“I bought my gym membership at Costco and now I have 36-pack abs.”

Speaking of, I loved the sight gag you pulled at the Emory-Tibet Symposium in 2017. With thousands of saffron-robed nuns and monks, world-renowned scientists, and interested followers leaning in to hear you speak on how to bridge science and Buddhism for mutual enrichment, you grabbed a white washcloth, plopped it on your hairless noggin and left it there for an hour, periodically giggling while you blew the crowd away with your unique brand of spiritual humanism.

I’ve read that you’re a vegetarian at home but eat meat when you travel, which is great, because Costco’s best deal is the $1.50 hot dog and soda combo. It’s all-beef, and the price hasn’t changed since the first Costco opened in 1984. Apparently one time a CEO suggested raising the price because the company was “losing our rear ends” on the deal, and co-founder Jim Sinegal reportedly said “If you raise (the price of the) effing hot dog, I will kill you.” I know, violent threats are not really your jam, but not only is it a great dog and an even better deal, but you can play out in real time the best you joke I ever heard, which goes like this:

“What did the Dalai Lama say to the hot dog vendor?”

“Make me one with everything.”

Once we’ve chowed the cheapest tube steak in the unnatural world, off we go into the belly of the Costco beast. But be careful; it’s easy to get carried away. Like another joke goes:

“I went to Costco for paper towels and bought the Cleveland Browns and a helicopter.”

Let’s get your Western prescriptions first, cuz that counter is right near the entrance, then later we’ll go to Whole Foods for the herbs you need for your traditional Tibetan medicines. I hear you’ve said on occasion that if you weren’t the Dalai Lama you would have been an engineer, so how about a 3D printer—on me.

And I hear you’re a pretty fair ping-pong player, so let’s hit the sporting goods aisle and get you some new gear. In fact, I heard that when you were 19 you paddled Chinese premier Zhou Enlai’s ass. Think that’s why he came after you five years later, sent you into exile and staged a military takeover of your country? Ping-pong diplomacy my ass! And speaking of, I promise we buy nothing made in China. Those fuckers have the unmitigated stones to claim they get to pick the next Dalai Lama, which is a twisted thing for a pro-atheism, anti-religion regime to do. But thankfully you don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Hell, your new knee is good for 15-20 years easy. And my guess is you’re pretty proud of your longevity, and rightfully so—84 years is a hell of a long time to hold down the same job. Sorry to say it won’t get you into the Guinness Book of World Records, at least not for now, cuz Walter Orthmann, now 102 years old, has worked for a Brazilian textile company for 86 years. You’re so nice you probably wish him well though. We could use a bit of your humility and compassion over here these days, as we’ve got some power-hungry old dudes that have to be dragged kicking and screaming off the stage.

But I digress. Want a four-person, red cedar barrel-shaped steam sauna? Three aisles down and to the right. Costco doesn’t have aisle numbers like most big stores do, because they want you wandering around aimlessly and buying stuff that isn’t on your list. How about a 13-foot-wide golf simulator? Oh, I forgot, you don’t play golf, despite Bill Murray’s famous account in Caddyshack of you stiffing him at the end of a round in Tibet. But I know you eat a lot of noodles, and you said on Australian MasterChef that cheese is one of your favorite foods, so Costco’s 72-pound wheel of Parmigiano-Reggiano is a must-have. But be careful about that reality show stuff—it’s a very slippery slope.

Need a vending machine? Those are way in the back, but you can fill them with whatever you want, like that yak butter tea you drink every day at 5 pm. Remote control toilet with five-setting bidet and heated seat? C’mon, you know you want one. That’s the only place I ever get within sniffing distance of total consciousness. A 60,000-piece jigsaw puzzle? You could meditate for three hours a day instead of five and finish it in a few weeks, cuz who sees interconnectedness better than you?

And I know, being the 14th Dalai Lama, that when you finally shake off this mortal coil, your body will be laid to rest in a stupa—a sacred Buddhist burial monument, possibly with flakes of gold and saffron scattered on you—but maybe you’d like a nice casket to hang out in for however long your pre-reincarnation period is. Costco might have had you in mind when they commissioned these, as not only are they velvet-lined with matching pillow and throw, they have “Adjustable Eternal Head and Foot Rests,” an option that seems perfect for those rare folks like you who are still planning to make some moves after they’re six feet under.

This seems like an organic spot to end this missive, but a couple more details should be worked out. First, the trip’s on me. I know you’re worth a cool $150 million, but this was my idea and besides, your cash should go to your Gaden Phodrang Foundation, which “aims to promote basic human values, mutual understanding among religions, peace and non-violence protection of the environment, Tibetan culture and its people, other people in need, regardless of nationality, religion and origin, and a better understanding between science and religion.” Go big or go home, huh. Nice.

And I’ll drive, as I know you haven’t had a car since your green 1966 Land Rover was retired in 1976, and even when it was around your older brother did all the driving. I guess even little bros known as the “Ocean of Wisdom” get bossed around by bigger bros. As for car tunes, are you a Steely Dan fan? They have a great song called “Bodhisattva”, which I think will resonate for you, since you are one. Anyway, I really hope you can make it next time you’re in DC, and please come soon. We need a lot of what you’ve got.

Your pal,

Jonathan