Forget breathwork retreats and vision boards. In this episode, our sarcastic spirit guide storms back into the fluorescent-lit chaos—reading Chapter 10: Panic at the Costco, Chapter 11: The Whisper in the Wipes Aisle, and Chapter 12: Thank You, You Bald Bastard from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

This week, Spirit Howie reminds us that enlightenment can strike anywhere—even in a wholesale panic attack, a desperate glance down a wipes aisle, or a half-muttered thank you meant for a bald-headed imaginary friend.

We explore the reality that real peace isn’t always found in pristine moments—it’s hidden in the everyday madness, the missed deals, and the messy gratitude that sneaks up when you least expect it.

Because sometimes, the sacred path to sanity runs right through Costco… and smells faintly of disinfectant wipes.

Sanitized wisdom continues. Subscribe, stock up emotionally, and remember:
This never happened.

Forget crystals and curated morning routines. In this episode, our brutally honest spirit guide returns—reading Chapter 8: The Gratitude Germ and Chapter 9: The Day He Didn’t Show Up from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

This week, Spirit Howie explores the microscopic power of gratitude—how it infects the mind (in the best way) and shifts perspective one sincere “thank you” at a time.

Then we drop into the quiet ache of disappointment. The kind that shows up when someone else doesn’t. But sometimes, that absence delivers its own strange clarity—and becomes the invitation to show up for yourself instead.

Because growth doesn’t always come from grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s born in the space someone else left behind.

Sanitized wisdom continues. Subscribe, say the thank you anyway, and remember:
This never happened.

Forget mindfulness apps and toxic positivity. In this episode, our sarcastic spirit guide returns with more disinfected insight—reading Chapter 6: Just Say No to Germ Circles and Chapter 7: A Small Moment of Enlightenment (In a Bathroom Stall) from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

This week, Spirit Howie reminds us that clarity doesn’t always arrive during meditation. Sometimes, it shows up while you’re dodging communal hand-holding—or staring at a bathroom stall door wondering if this is what inner peace actually feels like.

We explore the sacred power of opting out, the magic of boundaries, and what happens when a single square foot of solitude becomes a spiritual retreat.

Because sometimes the most enlightened thing you can do… is lock the door and breathe.

Sanitized wisdom continues. Subscribe, step away from the circle, and remember:
This never happened.

Forget sage-scented hugs and flowy-robed wisdom. In this episode, our sarcastic spirit guide takes the mic again—reading Chapter 4: No Hugs, Just Heckling and Chapter 5: The RSVP I Never Sent from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

This week, Spirit Howie reminds us that not all healing comes with a warm embrace. Sometimes, it sounds more like:"You’re a mess. But you’re still here. So let’s go."

We explore the oddly affirming power of being called out with compassion, roasted into realization, and learning to protect your peace with a simple, sacred no.

Because sometimes what you need isn’t motivation—it’s mockery, mild shame, and a metaphorical Purell slap to the face.

Sanitized wisdom continues. Subscribe, say no to things, and remember:
This never happened.

This week, we double down on anxiety and antiseptic wisdom.

Our narrator—still very much channeling the calm chaos of a post-enlightenment Burt Reynolds—reads Chapter 2: Germs and Genius and Chapter 3: The Hand Sanitizer Confessional from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

In Chapter 2, we explore why Howie Mandel—like it or not—is the perfect spirit guide for anyone who’s ever spiraled mid-snack. In Chapter 3, we pull up the therapy couch and confess the truth: sometimes healing looks like imagining a bald Canadian celebrity handing you Purell and telling you to get a Frosty.

It’s weird. It’s honest. It might just be the most emotionally supportive germaphobia you’ve ever experienced.

Subscribe for weekly episodes—and remember:
This never happened.

It all started with soap.

In this premiere episode, our AI narrator—who sounds suspiciously like a spiritually awakened Burt Reynolds—reads the Introduction and Chapter 1: The Vision in Aisle 5 from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

One man. One anxiety spiral. Thirty-seven kinds of hand soap. And then—there he was.
Not Jesus. Not Oprah.
Howie Mandel.
Appearing mid-panic in the Target soap aisle, offering spiritual sarcasm and unsolicited sanitation advice from deep within one man’s very tired brain.

This is where the gospel begins: a weird, wonderful, germ-conscious journey into mental clarity—delivered one sanitized moment at a time.

Just storytelling. Just weird enough to work.
Subscribe for weekly episodes—and remember:
This never happened.

Forget spiritual closure and dramatic life makeovers. In this final episode, our sarcastic spirit guide signs off—reading Chapter 13: Final Transmission from the Bald Side and the Epilogue: Grief Sounds Like a Sneeze from My Spirit Guide Is Howie Mandel: The Surprisingly Clean Path to Mental Clarity by Chris Palmore.

This is the last leg of the journey. No redemption arc. No neatly folded resolution. Just one final message from a bald imaginary oracle and the strange, sterile sound of saying goodbye.

We explore what it means to let go, to laugh through grief, and to find clarity in the smallest moments—even if they sound like a half-stifled sneeze in the cleaning aisle.

Because sometimes, healing doesn't look like light pouring through the trees.
Sometimes, it just sounds like: "Bless you."

Don’t follow us. Don’t tell your friends. And remember:
This never happened.