You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.
How cool life can be with unlimited amounts of money.
THEY say money can’t buy happiness.
Who the hell are THEY?
What universe do THEY live in?
I think THEY live in a parallel universe where cats where pajamas and smoke cigars.
Do THEY live in the Brazilian rain forest where coconut husks are the equivalent of Benjamins?
Do THEY live in the desert where you open your wallet and pay for groceries with goat hides.
THEY are probably the guys standing in the soup lines of life. THEY rationalize their socio-economic existence with a glass is half full mentality.
THEY are high on the ganja of existence and “why worry mon. It’ll be ahright, mon.”
I’m all about that positive vibe people, but let’s be real. Take off the blinders and read my lips:
Money is the key to happiness.
It’s the mechanism that slides effortlessly, sexily into the new Maserati and allows those 12 cylinders to crank over and purr like a kitten.
It’s the warm blanket that allows you to relax, to say manana, to live a life of manageable stress with fewer chest pains than the other guy.
The Beatles once sang: Can’t buy me love. but as the Beatles undoubtedly discovered back stage of every sold out show, it might not buy love, but I bet it felt good all the same.
I think as Paul, John, George and Ringo found out, money will buy you love and a little help from your friends.
Have you ever been to Vegas and seen some cigar chomping fat guy with a comb over that makes a wolverine jealous? His chest hair looks like steel wool as it pops out of his open shirt. His gold chains and rings clink off the side of the Craps table as moisture beads on his anvil shaped forehead. The guy is a glistening Guido, a salt lick of a man. But the guy is daddy warbucks and you know he has a stable of phillies near by.
And then; BAM!
The fluffies surface like a nuclear sub rising through the arctic ice. There is nothing common or quiet about their arrival. Suddenly, the two beautiful women, with the glimmering eye shadow and plunging neck line saddle up to the Sweaty Guido. They are super model hot with legs that start just under their chins. The women grab onto the pursive fat man’s arms like rust covering a beach house screen door.
Daddy war bucks acts like he’s always had Venus and Demilo by his side, like it’s a God given right. But I know he’s a pasta bowl of punk ass soft, and the only reason he has the honey is because he controls the cabbage.
It’s the way it’s always been and always will be. He with the most money usually wins.
So when THEY say money can’t buy love, I say it might buy something better. Perhaps even twins.
THEY like to say “money can’t buy health”.
THEY are right, but it sure can help you get well if getting well is possible.
You think Steve Jobs would have been able to get a liver transplant as quickly as he did without being loaded?
No way!
Jobs couldn’t buy a liver, so he did what all disgustingly rich sick people do. He maximized his opportunity for health. He has the ability to fly anywhere in the world at the drop of a hat so he “multiple listed at hospitals” including one in the Memphis area where organ waiting lists are not as long. As soon as the call came, he was ready for his transplant because he is rich.
I was thinking about all the fun that money can buy and it can buy a lot.
For some reason I was struck by an underwater vehicle known as a Scubacraft. It’s like a jet ski that travels on top of the water at up to 50 mph. Then, with the flick of a switch, it submerges. The driver dons his scuba gear and can steer his vehicle to a depth of a 100 feet.
How wonderful! That’s a rich man’s adventure to be sure. The undersea world of Jacques Cousteau and all for the reasonable price of $168,000 dollars.
You don’t see many Scuba-craft in the ghetto do you?
For those who say money doesn’t buy happiness, I applaud you. Perhaps it is not the green in your wallet, but the love in your heart that gets you by. To me, the love in your heart can be augmented even more thoroughly thanks to the size of your bank account. A bigger bank account means bigger contributions to friends, family and charitable organizations.
Not crazy, just a thought for whomever the hell THEY are.