blog.big-woop.com

I've decided that I want to become disgustingly rich. This will happen at least one, if not all, of the following ways:

Become a famous person. Famous people have everything. Or at least that is how it would appear according to VH1's The Fabulous Life. Of course, they would just as soon have me don blinged-out jewelry and own people to do everything for me but take a dump. Though, i'm not quite sure famous people do that. This book would have me believe otherwise.

Invent something people can't live without. Things are America's livelihood. Why else would I be so intent on becoming affluent? I like stuff. I want stuff. I need stuff. Quality of life is contingent on not only how many things one owns, but also on how cool and name-brand those things are. Let's face it. I can't get into fashion, which seems to be one of the hotter markets these days -- people need faded jeans and shoes that make them taller while simultaneously slimming down their fat ankles. But even if I knew how to make somewhat desirable apparel, no one would buy it. Generally, to hawk ultra-trendy, ultra-chic, ultra-expensive clothing, one needs a name befitting the industry. So either I ditch a 'D' and toss a grave accent on top of the 'I,' or I continue searching in another field. And the Razor scooters and Tickle-Me-Elmos of this world, as well as their knock-offs, have already had their time.

or

Rob a bank.

Actually, forget it. All I want is enough to own a sweet place and a kick-ass record collection.

And a vintage car.

And art on the walls.

And a bomb shelter for when the Reds attack.

And an iPod.

Peace.
-Tod Pìtman