Friday, January 23, 2004
Being Nice
Some day, I want to be a philanthropist. And by philanthropist, I mean billionaire. I'd give millions away to charity and still be able to buy myself several houses in various spots around the globe. I could summer in England and winter in Barbados. I'd go back home to Hawaii and buy my parents a phat pad. But my pad would have to be phatter.
I would eat at the fanciest restaurants and finally get to know what caviar and Cristal taste like. I would order the highest priced hookers, but instead of having sex with them, I would have them do Tae Bo with me. Because you always feel better when a sexy lady does Tae Bo with you. Then, sweaty and spent after the vigorous workout, we'd massage each other with sesame oil.
I would go to McDonald's and order a 20 piece Chicken McNuggets. I would get a cell phone equipped with camera, Internet and George Foreman grill. And if such a device did not exist yet, I would have someone make it.
I would buy a house just to store my Transformers collection. I'd buy a Toyota Prius! And then I'd buy a Lexus just because I could. I'd equip both with OnStar and LoJack and GPS navigation. I'd of course have thumpin speakers too. And if someone stole one of my cars, I wouldn't have to worry because my cars would also be equipped with anal intruders that would thrust up from the seats in event of theft. I would have to make sure that they never malfunctioned and intruded upon me or a guest.
I'd go hang-gliding and parachuting. I'd buy health insurance first, of course. And then life insurance.
I would then give my money to worthy causes. I'd set up a scholarship fund for geeks, and another one for troubled geeks. I'd build a castle and turn it into a library. I'd let people borrow books for a whole month. But if they didn't return books in time, my library wouldn't charge late fees. Instead I would lock those people in the castle's dungeon and show them "The Miracle of Life," an educational video about the human reproductive process. Because there is no greater torture than seeing, through use of tiny tunnelling camera technology, the inside of a dude's hoo-hah at the moment of climax. There would be no late books after that.
Then I'd buy another house and perhaps an airplane with my face on it. Not on the side, but in the front, with my teeth bared, like on a WWII fighter plane.
Being a philanthropist would be frickin awesome.
I would eat at the fanciest restaurants and finally get to know what caviar and Cristal taste like. I would order the highest priced hookers, but instead of having sex with them, I would have them do Tae Bo with me. Because you always feel better when a sexy lady does Tae Bo with you. Then, sweaty and spent after the vigorous workout, we'd massage each other with sesame oil.
I would go to McDonald's and order a 20 piece Chicken McNuggets. I would get a cell phone equipped with camera, Internet and George Foreman grill. And if such a device did not exist yet, I would have someone make it.
I would buy a house just to store my Transformers collection. I'd buy a Toyota Prius! And then I'd buy a Lexus just because I could. I'd equip both with OnStar and LoJack and GPS navigation. I'd of course have thumpin speakers too. And if someone stole one of my cars, I wouldn't have to worry because my cars would also be equipped with anal intruders that would thrust up from the seats in event of theft. I would have to make sure that they never malfunctioned and intruded upon me or a guest.
I'd go hang-gliding and parachuting. I'd buy health insurance first, of course. And then life insurance.
I would then give my money to worthy causes. I'd set up a scholarship fund for geeks, and another one for troubled geeks. I'd build a castle and turn it into a library. I'd let people borrow books for a whole month. But if they didn't return books in time, my library wouldn't charge late fees. Instead I would lock those people in the castle's dungeon and show them "The Miracle of Life," an educational video about the human reproductive process. Because there is no greater torture than seeing, through use of tiny tunnelling camera technology, the inside of a dude's hoo-hah at the moment of climax. There would be no late books after that.
Then I'd buy another house and perhaps an airplane with my face on it. Not on the side, but in the front, with my teeth bared, like on a WWII fighter plane.
Being a philanthropist would be frickin awesome.
