Scott Adams, creator of the popular Dilbert comic, popularized a simple but brilliant idea: success doesn’t require being world-class at one thing. It requires being pretty good at several things—and combining those abilities into a “talent stack” that gives you an edge most experts don’t have. That idea has always resonated with me, because it’s exactly how my life has played out. I’ve never felt like a true “master” in any single discipline. But I’ve always been pretty good at a lot of things: - Accounting - Marketing - Bookkeeping - Writing - Persuasion - Organizing - Human relations - Communications - Empathy - Psychology - Education - Teaching - Construction - Building And honestly, I could keep going. People have called me a jack-of-all-trades. And they’re right. My success in business, writing, teaching, and relationships hasn’t come from being the best in any one domain—it’s come from being strong across many. But something new is happening now, and it’s changing the game completely: AI is upgrading every single part of my talent stack. Not replacing it. Not diminishing it. Amplifying it. And the best example is happening right in front of me as I’m writing this article. I’ve written books. I’ve run a publishing company. I’m a pretty good writer. But when it came time to publish something intended for bookstores or national circulation, I always hired editors—professionals who could take my drafts and polish them to a level I couldn’t reach on my own. Not because I lacked ideas, but because writing at a professional level requires clarity, objectivity, and distance… things humans struggle with when we’re tangled in our own thoughts. Now, when I sit down to write an article like this, I effectively have a professional editor at my elbow. AI helps me shape thoughts, refine structure, and tighten language. It bridges the gap between what I mean and what readers will actually understand. It gives me the one thing writers rarely have: an unbiased mind.

For as long as humans have measured their days, time has been viewed as the one resource that cannot be stretched, paused, bought, or reclaimed. We can learn new skills, regain lost money, and rebuild strength, but time has always marched in one direction. Yet the rapid rise of artificial intelligence challenges this assumption. For the first time in history, ordinary people can multiply their effective time by outsourcing the very processes that used to consume it: remembering information, exerting mental energy, and grinding through long hours of research or problem-solving. In this sense, AI functions as a modern time machine—not by bending the laws of physics, but by changing the mechanics of human productivity. Human capability has always been shaped by three core variables: memory, mental energy, and time. Memory determines what we retain and how quickly we can access it. Mental energy dictates how long we can focus and how efficiently we can work. Time limits everything else; it is the container that holds all other human efforts. Traditionally, improving any of these three required years of discipline. To grow in knowledge, one had to study. To gain skill, one had to practice. To conserve mental energy, one had to rest, plan, and pace oneself. Progress was real but slow. The internet dramatically changed the memory equation. Instead of storing facts in our heads, we learned to store them online. Search engines externalized memory; a person could retrieve answers in seconds that once took hours of flipping through reference books. But while the internet provided access to information, it did not remove the effort required to sift through results, interpret data, or make decisions. The mental energy cost remained. Searching the web still drained focus and demanded time. Knowledge was accessible, but it was not yet effortless. AI is the next leap in that evolution. It does not merely store information; it organizes, interprets, and applies that information. When someone uses AI to complete a task—whether it’s analyzing a document, drafting a response, solving a technical problem, or clarifying a complex process—they bypass the slow steps of searching, verifying, understanding, and synthesizing. In effect, they borrow a second brain, one that never tires and never forgets. Memory becomes infinite. Skill acquisition accelerates because the barrier to entry collapses. A person no longer needs to “know everything” in order to do something; they simply need to know how to ask.

I’ve been experimenting with something new these past few weeks: building a digital clone of myself. Not in the sci-fi sense, but in the “capture my brain, my history, my experiences, and my frameworks so they can work with me instead of sitting unused in a notebook somewhere” sense. And the deeper I go, the more I realize I’m not just creating a clone — I’m creating sub-clones of the different parts of my life. I’ve lived several “mini-careers” across the years: glamping, speech & debate, large family life, recovering from online smearing, solopreneurship… each one with its own lessons, scars, and wins. And honestly? I’ve never been able to focus on all of them at once. I’m human. I tilt toward survival mode, or glamping mode, or writing mode — but never all five at the same time. AI changes that. Not by replacing me, but by extending me. Now, I should be upfront: I’m a spiritual guy. I’ve followed God for nearly four decades. So yeah, I’ve had to grapple with the power of AI and the temptation people have to see it as some kind of higher being. But that’s not how I see it. AI isn’t God — not remotely close. It’s just a tool. A powerful one, sure, but still just a tool. A tool that helps me finally organize decades of experience and turn them into something useful for more people. And that brings me to this community. When I launched this Skool group, I honestly thought it would be a simple book club. Light reading, good conversation, nothing too heavy. But as soon as I started building this clone and these sub-clones… well, it hit me that this space is going to be more than that. At least for me. It’s becoming a place where I explore who I am, why I’ve lived the life I’ve lived, and what I’m actually supposed to do with the work God put in my hands. Maybe that resonates with you. Maybe not. But if you’re here, you’re catching me at the ground floor of something that’s turning into a much deeper journey than I expected. This is the ground floor of something new. If you feel like you’re carrying more life than you can hold, or you’ve got a story that deserves structure, jump into the comments. Let’s help each other build out the best versions of ourselves.

Well… here we go. My first real post in this new Skool space — and before anything else, I want to call out the three people sitting in the front row with me: - Lance — a steady face from my glamping community. - Tom — a friend from my old Focus on the Family days, back when computers were heavier and we were lighter. - Andra — who knew me in high school, long before glamping, Skool, or 16 kids were even a glimmer in my future. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a stronger trio to kick off something new. You three are the perfect “roommates” for this fresh start. Here’s the truth: I originally launched this space as a book club. And on paper, it sounded great. But the more I thought about it, the more my gut twisted. Reading is sacred to me — part morning ritual, part spiritual practice, part quiet wrestling with life. The idea of handing that over to a group vote? Let’s just say it lasted about 24 hours. Even my mom wouldn’t join. That should’ve been my warning sign. 😂 So I pivoted. Hard. And what’s emerging feels right: This is going to be a place for your growth, not just my reading list. A place where the daily posts, the weekly conversations, and the archived writings serve as tools for your thinking, your reflection, your clarity, your purpose. I want this community to be a little refuge — not loud, not chaotic, just a thoughtful corner of the internet where we go a little deeper than the usual scroll. Here’s what you’ll get in this space: - Access to my archives: old blog posts, essays, spiritual reflections, teaching materials, and decades of writing I’ve never had a home for. - Weekly “coffee shop” discussions: optional, relaxed, a chance to sit and talk about life, purpose, business, faith — whatever’s stirring in our week. - Daily insights: small sparks to help you think, grow, or take that next step forward. But the best part — the real value — is the people in the room. And right now, that’s you three. If this place helps you grow, reflect, find clarity, or simply enjoy a thoughtful conversation, then it’s doing exactly what it should

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now — how much I read, how much I underline, and how little I actually talk about any of it. My Kindle library is packed with books that have changed the way I think, work, and live. But most of that growth stays private. That’s about to change. I’m launching Chris Jeub's Book Club, and it feels like a clean slate — a chance to invite others into something I’ve always done alone. I’ve only invited a few friends so far, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s small, focused, and ready to grow naturally. Over time, I hope it becomes a space where people who love to read — or want to get back into reading — can find momentum and good conversation. I read a lot across a few main lanes: - Entrepreneurship and business growth — the likes of Alex Hormozi, Donald Miller, and Seth Godin. Books about clarity, courage, and building things that last. - Faith and meaning — writers like John Eldredge, C.S. Lewis, and Tim Keller who bring depth and humanity to spiritual life. - Leadership and productivity — from Simon Sinek to James Clear, authors who help tighten the gap between what we want to do and what we actually get done. - Personal development and storytelling — Brené Brown, Ryan Holiday, Malcolm Gladwell… the thinkers who connect behavior, emotion, and growth. I’m not sure where this will go, but that’s part of the excitement. For now, it’s a space to read deeper, build wiser, and share the journey with people who are wired the same way. Here’s to turning pages together.