My birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks and it got me thinking…
…about all the things I might have expected, hoped, wished to have by this time of my life. I’m not complaining, mind you…
Okay, maybe a little bit. Would it have killed my parents to get me Optimus Prime? Dude was awesome.
And I don’t want to seem covetous here, but facts are facts, and there are some things I could possess that would undoubtedly enrich my life. I will list a few for you here. Keep in mind, this list is by no means comprehensive.
First, I love Scotch. Second, I love Johnnie Walker. Third, this is premium Johnnie Walker. Every bottle is serial numbered and sold in a silk-lined box, accompanied by a certificate of authenticity. It fetches prices upwards of $225 a bottle. It screams class. I need some like Gollum needed the one ring. (Man, that was one nerdy reference.)
Think of how hard it is to see all the people you miss. Now think of being able to get from point A to point Z instantaneously. Damn. Would be sweet, right?
I’m not selling short my current friends. Some of them have debauched qualities too, and I value them. But come on, there are two qualities vital to surviving a friendship with a Leska: Loving the fine things in life and being impervious to pain. Enter Bender.
The top prize for writing. They don’t just give these away. Still…
You know the saying, “the greatest thing since sliced bread?” Well, to me penguin butlers are that next milestone, the one that finally puts sliced bread in its place. “You see that over there,” I’d say to awed visitors. “That’s my penguin butler, Alphonso. He makes a damned fine martini. It’s the best thing since sliced bread, but it doesn’t compare to Alphonso.” I’ve thought about this a lot.
In one fell stroke the giant bear skeleton would strike fear in my enemies and show women that I am powerful and virile. Rowr.
This is not about greed. This is not about crass materialism. This is about joy. Look at Scrooge McDuck‘s face every time he leaps from his diving board into his vast pool of money. That, my friends, is duck-billed bliss. That, my friends, is the freaking ideal. Everyone should be as happy as Scrooge McDuck is when he jumps into his pool of money.
I’m sure your list is different than mine, but the goal at the end is not. Have a great night everybody.