I Need to Become Incredibly Wealthy

Anyone who knows me has heard me say it. I need to become incredibly wealthy. It is seldom followed by any burst of motivation or productivity. In fact, the comment can generally be found at the precise midpoint of a long session of my very favorite activity. Nothing. Not anything. I used to reserve a half hour every morning to stare at a wall. Those were the days. And that, of course, is why I need boatloads of cash. You need lots of money if you want to do nothing. Well, to do nothing and not smell bad while you do it. Blessed inactivity is not the only motivation I have for wealth beyond need or want. There are a few things that limitless funds can allow you to do that I am particularly interested in trying.

First up, horse racing. No, I don’t want to race horses. Leave that to the runts of the litter. My goal is not to beat animals and be called an athlete for doing it, but to own the animal being beaten. Why? The NAMES, man, THE NAMES. You can name a horse anything you want and they have shout it through a loudspeaker, in a British accent, at a million miles an hour. (And yes, by law it has to be a British accent. With a special permit you can substitute a southern accent, but you have to pay a monthly fee.) I would laugh with glee as I sat in my velvet lined luxury box eating chocolate covered whale eyeballs, or whatever rich people eat, and listen to the limy announcer. “Here comes Hippopotamus Butler on the outside! Sneaky Twinkie passes The Whittler’s Sister, followed by Bloody Snot, Heinrich Whizbang, Brain Fart, Taco Vansetti, Pontification Flapjack, and… Eric.” I would name the slowest horse Eric. It just seems like a good name for a slow horse. Plus, everyone named Eric would bet on the horse, then loose their money. I don’t have a particular dislike for the Erics of the world, but as a rich man I have to target someone, and your number is up, Eric. Now, back to horse racing. Aside from the names being delivered by an auctioneer nobleman, people will also be placing bets on these things. Some compulsive gambler will put ten grand on Lumpy Sputter in the Third, or the Omega Squatthrust/Borf Chorfer/Ninja UpChuck trifecta and lose and have to curse those names for a lifetime. That’d be great.

Next, Scholarships and endowments. If you want someone to do something, reward them for it. It is a simple concept. However, if I just walked down the street handing out wads of cash to people in exchange for them standing on their heads, barking like dogs, and doing other Klondike worthy activities, I would at the very least seem like a weirdo, and at the worst, get robbed. However, if I make a scholarship for students that bark like dogs and stand on heads, I’m a philanthropist! Better yet, I get a whole mess of people acting like morons, and I only have to pay ONE of them. Sneaky. So I would set up foundations to endow people for reprehensible or inane behavior. For instance, high speed, competition self stimulation. Imagine the stains on those applications. Or how about Zit popping. People would be judged on thoroughness, efficiency, and distance. We could hold a hair eating contest. Now, I know what you are thinking. How do we get people to donate hair? Well I’ve got that taken care of. We give out two scholarships. One for most hair eaten, the second for most flavorful hair. Eh? Clever huh. It’d have to be all natural flavor, though, no additives. That way you would not only attract people insane enough to believe that their hair is a taste treat, but you would get to disqualify people who try to shampoo with barbecue sauce and what not. Good stuff. What else… How about most quarters stuffed into a single nostril? The list goes on.

So I hope you now see the importance of me becoming fantastically wealthy. It is now your duty to make that happen. At the time of this writing, we don’t really have that many revenue sources here at Brainlazy, but that should be no excuse. You could just send me fistfuls of cash! And when the time comes, when we start selling tote bags and tooth brushes and travel alarm clocks, you can buy those by the dozen. Pretty soon, you’ll start seeing the brochures for the Brainlazy foundation’s center for competitive body stench, and putting money down on Double Thunderloaf and Guy Smiley courtesy of Brainlazy stables. And, come now, isn’t that reason enough to give until it hurts?

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About Decoychunk

Editor, Writer, and general Knower-Of-Words, if there is text to be read on BrainLazy, Joseph Lallo probably has his fingerprints on it. As the final third of the ownership and foundation of BrainLazy, Joseph “Jo” Lallo made a name for himself when he lost the “e” from his nickname in an arm wrestling match with a witch doctor. Residing in the arid lowlands of the American Southwest, Joseph Lallo is a small, herbivorous, rabbit-like creature with the horns of an antelope. He sleeps belly up, and his milk can be used for medicinal purposes. Joseph Lallo is also author of several books, including The Book of Deacon Series, book 1 of which is available for free here.