At times I think I would prefer to be a gentleman, in the old English sense, born into wealth and privilege with lands and a stately old home with gardeners taking care of the outside and an entire staff keeping the inside neat and tidy (including my teenagers’ bedrooms and bathroom).
Maybe a little over the top, but you know what I mean.
I’d have to juggle my tennis match with other elites and various social engagements in order to make time to sign important papers to increase my wealth or to meet with important peers awaiting my sage advise.
No such luck. That is not how my day will unfold.
However, today I will not hide behind a spoofed telephone number on your caller ID to try to sell you a time-share condominium. I will not go around my store and relabel all the appliances, automobiles, or canned goods with a higher “Regular Price” so the same old “Sale Price” looks like a better deal. Nor will I be sending you an email to steal your money, your password, or your identity. I won’t pretend I’m a Nigerian Prince who needs your help to rescue my fortune or try to convince you that, based on a single poorly performed experiment, I can cure you of your chronic ills.
I’ll just go to work, then come home to my family.
Not to bad, really.
Posted in Philosophy, Wealthy, Business, Family, Celebrity, Culture, Humor
Tagged elite, gentry, noble, one percent, rich
I try to stay out of political discussions for a variety of reasons; my blood pressure, the effect of stress on other medical problems with my (rapidly) aging body, and the fact that most political stories–once the hyperbole is removed–are not interesting, and definitely not uplifting.
We adopted our dog Louie from the animal shelter about six years ago. We’ve been told that Louie is a “Walker Treeing Coon Hound,” whatever that means. To me it means that he has that distinctive combination of bark and howl that says, “Hound,” and he’s not afraid to use it.
He barks at squirrels, the garbage truck, the UPS truck, everyone walking down the street, and various imaginary threats. The doorbell immediately puts him into DEFCON ONE. He runs to the door, complete with cartoon-like running feet unaccompanied by forward motion.
He spends a lot of time in bed. In fact he has one on the back porch and one in the house just so it’s convenient for him.
He loves to eat, especially “forbidden fruit,” which has resulted in several (expensive) emergency surgeries to remove.
Nirvana, to him, is an open gate or door through which he launches like a rocket. Of course, he expects us to grab the car keys, follow him, and open the car door so that he also gets to go for a ride in the car.
- Louie makes a lot of noise for no good reason.
- When he does move, most of it is for show, not action.
- He spends a lot of time doing nothing.
- He partakes of things that he should not.
- He likes to travel without any particular reason.
- He believes that we should clean up after all his mistakes.
- When caught doing something he shouldn’t, he displays an amazing picture of innocence.
Why would I need to follow politics when I’ve got Louie?
Don’t be fooled by the innocent expression.