Star in a Stunt
On camera, in the action. We roll, you shine.
Curious who my boss really is? →
Star in a Stunt
On camera, in the action. We roll, you shine.
Curious who my boss really is? →
You know the inhaler. The inhaler fixes you — two short pulls when the day's been heavy. The Kinder Mister is the other half of the operation. It fixes the room. When the air around you doesn't feel kind, you spritz it. Proactive area kindness, atomized. One controls your own feelings; the other controls the entire environment. I didn't invent either one. I'll get to that.
It arrives in an expensive glass bottle. Glass, because plastic isn't kind to the planet, and we're nothing if not consistent. When you hold it up to the light, it looks like there's nothing in it — just air, like the inhaler. I had the same reaction. But they work. I've seen it work. I can't fully explain it and I've stopped trying.
Pre-order the Mister →Tell us how many and we'll take it from there. Hitting send opens your email to AOK Man (ego@aokmankind.com) — Gloria handles the rest. No payment now.
Opens your email app. Gloria will be in touch.
Here's the situation. Due to U.S. and Kindness-Heal labeling pressures, I have to list the ingredients — because it wouldn't be kind to hide them in case one turned out to be dangerous. Fair. I agree with that.
But. Whoever wrote the actual panel used words no human can pronounce — Aurum bonum intentionis. Humanitas cordis. A list nobody can read is, as I've said elsewhere, just not kind. So here's my summary, friend to friend: it's mostly herbs. Calming, leafy, well-meaning botanicals — lavender, chamomile, rose, lemon balm — plus a "Proprietary Kindness Blend" of things like Good Intention, Empathy, Gratitude, and Human Kindness extract. The "Other Ingredients" are mostly water and coconut. It is not evaluated by the FDA — it's regulated by the civilization. You trust them. So do I. Mostly.
↳ tap either image to enlarge and read the fine print (the missing-ingredient note is on the panel)
Dark glass on purpose — you can't see the liquid or the air, same as the inhaler. Glass, not plastic, because plastic isn't kind. Four fluid ounces. Roughly 260 servings, which feels optimistic given the next part.
You'll notice the panel is honest. Here's the part that honesty requires, and it's why I can't guarantee it works. One ingredient is missing. It was interpreted directly off a tablet in the Vault — eleven thousand years old — and the civilization's best people aren't sure what it was. A plant. A mineral. A feeling. Or something that simply doesn't exist anymore.
The civilization gave me an analogy for this, because honestly I'd never run into it myself. You know when you drag something into the trash on your computer, empty it, and then realize the one file you needed is gone — really gone? And you go buy that special program that digs deep, deep into the machine to recover it, the one that never quite promises it'll work? That's exactly what they're doing right now with the missing ingredient. Digging into eleven thousand years of deep storage, no guarantees, running the recovery. So be patient. We're confident the technology will pay off. It usually does. (It doesn't always.)
And — did I mention? — if you want to understand the tablet it came from and the whole story behind it, you have to go to the Kindness Vault. That's where that lives. Not here. Here's just where they make me sell it.
Find the missing ingredient at the Vault →This is important — the Mister works best as a social act, not a private one. Here's the protocol:
Expensive glass. Plastic isn't kind. Looks empty. Isn't. We think.
It works for exactly 90 days, then literally seizes up and you have to buy another. Not sure that's kind. I raised it. It's "being looked into."
Subscribe and it's 10% off with free shipping. So at least the part where you're forced to rebuy is slightly cheaper.
Not FDA regulated. Regulated, as far as I can tell, by the civilization. And vibes.
The testimonials have been pouring in. Every single one is five stars. We find that statistically reassuring and have chosen not to investigate it.
Hour six of the family road trip. Two kids not speaking. My husband had Opinions about the GPS. I rolled down the window and misted the whole car. Within minutes we were singing. I don't understand it. I've stopped needing to.
Thanksgiving. You know the one. The table went quiet in the bad way. I stood up, said "this is a kindness sprayer," and misted over the mashed potatoes. My brother-in-law denied it did anything — while laughing. So it worked.
Sprayed it in the breakroom before the Monday meeting. Carl was kind to me for the first time in eleven years. Carl. I bought three more bottles. I am not letting this go.
The DMV. I misted the DMV. I cannot legally say what happened next but I left with my license AND a compliment.
My cat and I had been in a cold war for three days. One spritz. He blinked slowly at me. That's a cat "I love you." We're fine now. Worth every penny.
Used it at my daughter's soccer game on a parent who was Being A Lot. Misted discreetly upwind. By halftime he was offering orange slices to children who weren't his. A changed man.
I will be honest: I think it's mostly water and good intentions. I also think it works. Both of these things are true and I've made peace with it.
Ran out on day 91. It seized up exactly like they said it would. Furious. Subscribed immediately. The system is diabolical and I respect it.
Doesn't work. Sprayed it at my problems and they are STILL my problems. One star.
Bought it for my husband as a hint. He used it ON me. Now I'm somehow the calm one and he won't stop being pleasant. This was not the plan. Two stars, deeply confused.
I left this review to argue because I am always right and this product is overpriced water and— okay I reread that and I'd like to take responsibility for my tone. The Mister did that. Five stars. I'm seeking growth now.
Smells like optimism. I do not care for optimism. Returning it. (Could not return it. There is no return address. There is only Gloria.)
Look, I'll be straight with you, because the oath requires it. The Kinder Mister wasn't my idea. The inhaler wasn't my gig either. I put in some really good suggestions — genuinely good, I think — but they keep pushing these products off onto my site. Why don't they own it on their site? I don't get it. I'm out here in a cape and they're back there inventing spritzers and handing me the cash register.
And look — I'll say the quiet part. The Mister is nice. The Mister is fun. But is a spray bottle critical to changing society? No. Actual acts of kindness are critical to changing society. :-) The Mister is a delightful little nudge in that direction. Don't mix those up. I almost did, and I invented half the marketing.
But — and I do understand this, even if I grumble — the civilization isn't really a store. It's more like one of those academic, college-type things. You go there to learn the lessons. You work together as a community. You can see calendar events that different volunteer organizations are running, learn about charities, find businesses that actually support kindness. That's the real thing. That's the work. Me? I'm the guy with the spray bottle and the good suggestions. Somebody's gotta be the front door.
See what the civilization actually is →