December 06, 2013

Dreaming of My Own Personal Billionaire

It has come to my bemused and somewhat startled attention that a writer can now be entirely funded by an uber-wealthy patron(s), and that this has no bearing whatsoever on the writer's independence or willingness to proselytize against power and privilege, and indeed against the uber-wealthy themselves. It appears that the writer in question can even make the case that no one gets to be uber-wealthy without being an irredeemable shithead (not a difficult case to make, after all), and can continually heap endless abuse on the uber-wealthy asshole/shithead patron(s) -- and the funding will continue uninterrupted. The patron(s) won't even care.

This news makes me quite deliriously happy. I want me one of these understanding, astonishingly tolerant shitheads for my very own. I'll call you out on your countless lies, I'll tell the world what a calculating, manipulative bastard you are, and I'll do all this repeatedly, day after day after day. In exchange, all you have to do is give me tons of money!

I think that should do it. Consult the archives here to see the multiplicity of forms of abuse to which I'll subject you, and the exotically colorful ways I'll insult and malign you. If you want unstinting, unstoppable punishment (in verbal form as an automatic part of the deal, in other forms upon special request -- and with additional payment, of course), you need look no further. I'll expect the first installment -- nothing less than a million dollars, you are a billionaire, you shithead, so don't insult me or yourself by offering pocket change -- by early next week.

Now, just in case that doesn't work-- but if it does, I'll let you know immediately, so we can all mock the idiotic asshole patron(s) involved (and the patron(s) will love it!) -- I could use a little help. I'm running very low on funds. I won't be able to buy Christmas presents for the cats! (They are not happy, and they let me know of their unhappiness in ways that are unpleasant and sometimes messy.) I also won't be able to pay some of December's bills. Like a utility bill (gah), or food bills (also gah). This is not shaping up to be a pleasant holiday season at the moment.

See, if I had my own personal billionaire, she or he could buy me a whole goddamned department store! Maybe a chain of stores! Yeah, I like the sound of that. Ka-ching, ka-ching. And if you want some serious abuse, put me in charge of an entire news organization. Now there's an idea! You won't believe how much I can hurt you when I have some major resources to work with. We know you're into self-punishment in a big way. I mean, that's how you got to be a shithead billionaire, right? Right!

I don't understand why billionaires aren't lining up at my door. Jesus, it's like billionaires expect to be coddled and supported in their lies and deception. I feel disillusionment setting in. I'm beginning to think that billionaires actually enjoy their wealth and power. Could that possibly be true?!

So I have to rely on non-uber-wealthy people. That strikes me as a very crappy deal, but that's where we are. PayPal is okay to use, at least unless Petey decides to be mean and vindictive (again). Or you can write me for my address (arthur4801 at yahoo dot com).

I remain ready, eager and willing to insult and abuse any billionaire who feels equal to the task. C'mon, you think you're such supermen and women: let me have a crack at you! You know you'll love it! Okay, not even a million, just start with half a million. See how reasonable I am? But I won't be reasonable at all when I'm mean to you! And I can be very, very mean (check out those archives, baby).

My deepest thanks to all the wonderful people who have been so generous and thoughtful. And for all of them and you other non-assholes out there: Happy Holidays.

And if any billionaire who wanders by decides to drop half a million on me (but nothing less, that is my absolute lower limit for shitheads), be assured that I still won't wish you happy holidays. I hope you have a completely miserable holiday season, and that the misery lasts all year long, year after endless year.

I haven't misunderstood how this new game works, have I? So why don't I have a personal billionaire? This sucks.

I'm starting to think this game is rigged. Now I'm sad. And I'd thought I was about to be rich.

Goddamn. Well, thanks for listening, poor people. What a world. Can we trade it in for another one?