Well, to tell you the truth — I just finished a surprise mandatory getaway boot camp. You can watch it, I heard, on Instagram and TikTok. Valuable lessons on mastering kindness. Anyway, now that I've thoroughly read the contract, it appears I don't have much say over this calendar.
And yes, when I say "this calendar," I mean it literally. There's an actual calendar now — AOK Man · Around the World 2026. Twelve countries, twelve kind acts. The Foundation prints it. I'm on every page, whether I planned to be there or not.
Get the calendar →Here's how it works. I either get a note delivered to my door, or Gloria — my personal administrator, assigned to me by the Foundation — puts it on the calendar. By the way, she's great. She has an awesome tape recording of what this entire operation is about. Fifteen minutes or so. If you call, ask her to play it.
The Foundation just put up a new phone number with a directory:
People kept asking the difference between "The Day" and "Appearances." There isn't one. A day is an appearance. So here's the whole thing in one place. We start with the first three months — twelve weeks, twelve missions — each one a small, repeatable act anyone can do. This is the calendar I actually follow. You can follow it too. That's the point.
Return a cart that isn't yours. Push it all the way in.
Open a door for someone at least ten feet away. Wait for them.
Find a librarian and thank them. Librarians change lives.
Thank a cashier for helping people all day long.
Ask a manager who the most invisible person is. Then see them.
Recognize somebody whose whole job is helping others.
Find the helper of the helper. Thank the person behind the person.
Thank a volunteer for their time and their heart.
Thank an officer for keeping our community safe.
Recognize someone serving the community at its center.
Thank someone who keeps our parks alive and green.
Applaud the next person entering a public space. Just because.
Beyond the weekly missions, here's what's on the books — what's coming, what already happened (the archive), and what's still working through scheduling. Some of it gets filmed for Season One. All of it is canon.
Standing weekly appearance · 6–8 PM · Sam will pour your water · the Bodyguard orders the bacon cheeseburger.
The newest format. I show up at a local establishment, pull a shot of lemonade with a Kindness Guard, and offer my services free for the hour. The venue gets the absurdity and the foot traffic; the patrons get a stranger being weirdly nice to them. Bring an Unkindness to confess and the first Restoration's on me.
Bandshell, bandstand, amphitheater — whatever the town's got. Dates under negotiation. The Foundation handles the booking; I handle the standing around being encouraging.
Returning with an updated kindness balance sheet · two more Blazes · same wagon · same Bodyguard.
Season One is in production — eleven episodes. The bible is locked. The Bodyguard has not blinked in six weeks. As clips drop, the links land right here. (Video player goes here once the episodes are cut — for now, what's queued.)
Ten episodes of mandatory kindness training I did not technically agree to and cannot technically leave. Two foam gold barbells in a red children's wagon. The Bodyguard's chin drops one millimeter. That millimeter is the entire show. "All levels welcome. Cape encouraged."
Folding table. Hand-painted yellow sign. A stack of Spark tablets and a pitcher of actual lemonade. "FREE — TAKE ONE — TIPS GO TO THE FOUNDATION." The bit works because the neighborhood takes it seriously.
It all ends at the door with the yellow light. Where the whole civilization lives. You'll want to be caught up.
Here's a new one I'm excited about. Every week I release a short video about a living author whose whole life's work has been kindness, generosity, or the human spirit. Now — let me be clear about what these are, because Gloria made me be clear. I am reviewing their books and welcoming them into the civilization. In our story, they've been part of A²OK World for eleven thousand years and just didn't know it yet. And I am, sincerely and publicly, inviting each of them to contribute to our Anonymous Acts of Kindness book. Whether they accept is up to them. But as far as the civilization is concerned, they already belong. *
* Gloria's note: He is not interviewing these people. He has not met these people. He admires them enormously and would like them to know it. Every photo is an interpretive likeness, every welcome is genuine, every invitation is real and stands open. — G.

The seed author — the first name on the shelf. She left a six-figure career to write about people who refused to quit, then built the Unstoppable Foundation on a single discovery: giving transforms the giver. We've been quoting her for eleven thousand years. She just got here first.

You learned everything you needed about kindness before you could read — share, play fair, clean up your mess, hold hands and stick together. We just forgot to keep doing it. He's been writing the civilization's law in plain English for decades, one warm, plainspoken book at a time.

She spent decades proving what we believe in our bones: kindness is a skill you can train. She's been teaching the inner half of what we do out in the streets. The civilization owes her a seat.

She did the thing we never bothered to do — she checked whether kindness actually works. (It does.) When a skeptic needs proof instead of poetry, she's the one with the receipts.

Kindness is sharing your snack and including the kid nobody picked. Honestly, we've never improved on that. He's teaching the law to brand-new humans — upstream of all of us.

She proved that people change far more when they treat themselves with kindness than when they punish themselves. Kindness, here, is not soft — it's the most effective tool we have.

The format model for this whole shelf. A study of the gentlest famous neighbor we ever had, and the argument that wonder and kindness are the same muscle. Already one of ours.
More to come — I'm trying to knock these out in about three weeks. There are stand-out individuals across the whole do-good industry I want to welcome the same way. The shelf has room. The civilization always has room.
The civilization taught me to put my goals where the universe can see them. So here's the board. Anonymous acts of kindness have been referenced in major articles for years — we can only assume those trace back to our eleven-thousand-year civilization. So the call is coming. Any day now. These are anticipated article and video requests — and I've already filmed my answers. I'm scheduling them as if they're already happening, because that's how this works. When they land, they move over to Press — where you can read the full pre-interviews. *
Anticipated article + video request. I've submitted myself (the footnote stays). Awaiting their call. The briefcase photo is ready.
Anticipated cover article + video request. Three poses prepared: biting the medal, staring soulfully, holding Nugget. A cover has since been... arranged. See Press.
Anticipated interview request. Twenty-two minutes. I will reveal nothing, beautifully. The stopwatch and I have an understanding.
Awaiting World Assembly vote. Strong shot in freestyle. Gold-medal photo already drafted — silver went to a golden retriever, bronze to a crossing guard.
* Scheduling Delays = a real goal of mine, not yet a real event. Anticipated requests are sincere asks; whether they happen is up to them. (Gloria's note: there is a "scheduling conflict." The conflict is that no one has called. I am working it out. — G.)
Past performances. The record. Some are filmed, some are just remembered — and the ones the Foundation declined stay up too, because a record you edit isn't a record.
Mandatory. A surprise. Technically an appearance — I just didn't know about it until I was there. Best student in the basement. You can watch the episodes after the fact.
Proposed · Foundation declined · cited "register mismatch" · we are appealing. I leave the declined ones up because they're part of the record.
Filming now for Season One.
Kindness isn't just for the gym. Filming the at-home edition — trash, recycle, compost, repeat.
An interview on a roof. Then a leap (kind of). Then a Rocky celebration on the next roof over. The echo may be dubbed.
At The Farmer's office. They still don't have a field for clay tablets. I'm appealing to the home office. The home office is the Foundation.
Every mission on this calendar, every author on the shelf, every aspirational cover on the board — it all points one direction. Four minutes. One anonymous act. That's the whole civilization, and it's been waiting eleven thousand years for you to walk through the door.