FYI: I lost, so you lost

powerball-lotteryI didn’t win the big money in the $590 million-or-more Powerball lottery drawing last night.

Hell, I didn’t win the semi-big money, the middling money or the smallest this-covers-me-for-one-of-my-tickets money. I got zip, nada, zero, nothing, squat.

Oh, and since I was a loser, just thought you’d all like to know you’re losers too.

Because I planned on giving a million to every single one of my readers and followers here, whether you’ve liked me or not. I could afford it and could have used the charity tax breaks too.

Just so you know.

And even after that, I would have had more than enough moolah left over to do a couple other nice-for-me/nice-for-you things.

national debtI was going to pay off all of my family’s and all of your families’ share of the national debt. Shucks, it’s only a little more than $100,000 each. Chump change. That’d be one monthly bill we all could rip up and throw away.

kim-jong-un-and-dennis-rodmanI’d buy a long-range ballistic missile, stuff Dennis Rodman into the warhead and fire it off at Kim Jong-Un and his cadre of yes-oh-great-leader generals. One kaboom and world peace would ensue.

bag of iceAnd finally, I’d buy a bag of ice for every single person on the planet and at the same time we’d all go outside and all-together-now wave them in the air for twenty minutes and … badda-bing, badda-boom … no more global warming.

Yeah, sure, what I nice guy I could have been. But I didn’t win. So now me, you, the country and the world have zip, nada, zero, nothing, squat.

And one last thing. To the winner of last night’s Powerball, who bought the ticket at that Publix supermarket in Florida, probably a 97-year-old retiree who’s really going to send for those mail-order kitchen curtains now and (why not?) the valances too, and who most likely will bequeath the rest to Clarence, your 12-year-old Maine coon-Persian-calico cat mix because he’s such a finicky eater, don’t you know … I hiss this:

I just hope you’re happy now.


A rock is a rock is … art?

I’m in the wrong damn business. You’re probably in the wrong damn business. Unless you’re Michael Heizer, we’re all in the wrong damn business.

Why is Michael Heizer so special? Got me. Oh, he’s an artist, a sculptor. Of sorts. His latest creation is called Levitated Mass. It’s on the campus of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Did I say “creation”? Sorry, poor choice of words. It’s more correctly described as an “installation”. It consists of a 340-ton boulder affixed above a concrete trench through which visitors may walk.

Why the heck did Michelangelo waste time carving a marble chunk to make David?

Feast your eyes on that for a minute. Captivating, ain’t it? Ought to be … for a reported $10 million pricetag, it should do at least that. All the while dancing a jig and whistling Dixie, backwards.

Now, before you begin to wonder aloud how is it that Los Angeles County could pay for this “art” work, when it’s doubtful the entire state of California can scrape together $10 million in spare change, the bill was paid entirely by private donations.

Which illustrates yet another difference between people like you and me, and the rich: They will pay a lot of money for a rock. You and I don’t have that kind of money … nor possess that much stupidity.

There are some advantages to being poor.

But if that’s the way of the world – well, no sense in fighting it. We might as well work it to our advantage, correct?

So, if there are any rich people out there who think it’s downright over-the-top extravagant to pay $10 million for a big rock on top of a concrete ditch, but still wish you could possess some true art, have I got good news for you. Not only have I got some art, but you can own it and still have millions left in your wallets.

Mounditated Mass – $100,000

There is dirt and there is dirt, but this is … dirt. Just imagine this pile, dug from the very center of Ye Olde New England and artistically arranged by a native Nutmegger as only a Ye Olde Nutmegger can pile, in the front yard of your manse. Yes, your neighbors will be more than envious of your obvious creative eye. And just beside themselves as well once you mention that not only did Gen. George Washington sleep on this Revolutionary War-era dirt, but his horse probably plopped on it too.

 UnMounditated UnMass – $50,000

Hey, if you decide to own the Mounditated Mass – why not display the hole it came from? And for a dirt-cheap price, even. A perfect artistic set, no?

Leaveitated Mass – $25,000

If you’ve seen the movie, “Monty Python’s The Holy Grail”, there’s no need to explain to you the artistic aura that emanates from the beauty of one of the most desired natural artworks of the world … the shubbery. Why, its allure harkens back to the times of Camelot. So, you too must be of truly royal artistic stock, of course. Of King Arthur’s creed, I presume? And now, for a measly $25,000 you too can own what was so demanded by the Knights Who Say Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoom-boing-mumble-mumble, formerly known as the Knights Who Say Nee!

Gee, all of this artworking is not only potentially lucrative, it’s transforming. Anybody know where I can get a French beret cheap?

And the winner is …..

This is a golden Mercedes-Benz. No, it’s more than golden, it’s made of gold. GOLD, I tell you – glittery, goldeny, put-your-bite-marks-into-it, disgustingly filthy GOLD gold! The cigarette lighter is gold, the gas pedal, the clothes hooks in the back, the headrests, even the ENGINE is made of it.

Spark plugs too.

Why am I blogging you a picture of a gold Mercedes, you saying right about now. I’ll tell you. Contrary to anything anyone’s ever told you about me, including everyone who knows me … I am RICH beyond your wildest dreams. My wildest dreams, even. RICH, I tell you – glittery, goldeny, put-your-bite-marks-into-my-wallet, disgustingly filthy RICH rich!

No one knew this before now. No one ever asked. Probably because, well, I don’t look rich. But that’s because I’m RICH and can afford to look that way. On top of that, I’ve just never found the right time, the precise moment, to mention it.

Until now. Yes, now is the time.

You see that little number over there on the right side of this page? The one underneath the line that says “Stats: Gimme da numbers”? It’s probably at around 400-something. Well, it shouldn’t be 400-something. It should be 500. And I’m going to get it there … really soon.

Because I’m going to give this car to the 500th person who views this blog. No strings, no gimmicks, no charge for handling and shipping. No caca. Honest. Really. Got the keys (gold, fob too) in one hand as I type this with the other one.

Of course, this is shameless, bald-faced self-promotion. We one-percenters do these kind of things. And no, I’m not going to tell you how I’m going to know who’ll be the 500th viewer. We one-percenters can do that too. We can do lots more things than just not pay taxes, you know.

So, this gold car is going to the person who single-clickingly pushes this blog up to a whole ‘nother level of achievement, catapults it into a higher strata of the blogosphere!

Click early, click often – sorta like voting in Chicago!