I Wanna be Rich
May 12, 2017
— Upper Class
I wanna be rich. I don’t want to be super rich, or Super Rich times Infinity. I wanna be nigger rich. Just rich enough to never have to worry about money ever again. I like money. I used to hate it. I used to verbally abuse money. Now I just like it. It serves a purpose. I mean not all of us want to trade chickens for a new car. The concept of money makes sense. Brilliant technology.
I just think money isn’t all that interesting. I’m mean, we all talk about how great money is, but what about the stuff that it buys, or the stuff that money doesn’t buy? Now that’s a modern conspiracy.
I just wanna travel the world and perform these blog posts until I have enough to comprise a book. Then I wanna travel around and write more posts and perform them live. And maybe, every once in a while, eat a decent home cook meal as nostalgia from a time before the internet when people actually gave a damn.
I wanna be rich not to look down at the less fortunate but to slap the rich down a few pegs. I wanna be a rich comedy writer so whenever I meet a CEO or a college football coach. I can lure their greed into a trap. I’d start a conversation by mentioning how I made my first million over the past decade. They’d smile with a big smug look of superiority and I’d wait. They’d be like, I made a little under 200,000 this year alone. That’s when I’d be like, just kidding. I made a Million dollars this year but gave 800,000 away to charity. So I guess we made about the same amount money. I guess that makes us one and the same. We’re like on the same level.
I think you should make me rich just so I can do that. I want to make a million dollars just so I can give 80% percent away to charity. I mean you could give away a million dollars to charity without me. That wouldn’t hurt me because I’ll probably be getting the money back, you know, during the charity drive. That’s great. But imagine the irony.
Is the CEO of the World Wildlife Foundation going to give 80% percent of their paycheck back to the people they fuck with? No. That’s where I come in. By giving me this money you’re not only helping me but the charity workers, maybe not so much the volunteers but the corporate end comes out alright, you’re helping the people the charity are supposed to help and you’re helping the rich, and at the least, supporting independent alternative art forms that mock the rich in a way that reevaluate their lifestyle even if’s only while in my presence. I feel that is an admirable dream. And that’s why you won’t do it. Because you either wanna fuck the guy whose trying to fuck you or get fucked by the guy whose much swifter at the game. But you don’t wanna switch the sport and maybe trying something different like competitive giving a damn about people, try that out as a sport, instead of the NBA Playoffs. It’ll be Monday Night Unconditional Love for Your Fellow Man. Where’s Nike for that sponsorship?.
I wanna start my own non-profit organization that gives decent wages to people who volunteer.So please. Feel free to send me Diamonds. Feel free to send me gold. I also accept Pearls, Jewels, Gems, Fossilized Wood, Cocaine, Magic Mushrooms, Silver, Rhodium, and rare books of magic. I also accept seven different types of sex slaves, for a complete catalog, please contact me via email. I don’t accept Platinum. I don’t know why. It’s like the elitist drug of choice for some reason. So fuck Platinum. And send me gold. Lots and lots of gold. Like your life savings in gold. All the gold. I want all the gold. And give me all your daughters. I want all your daughters. And your wife during the afternoon when you’re still at work. Just kidding. I won’t do that. I’m not Joesph Smith for Christ’s sake.