Ask BE: What would you do with 10000$ cash.
November 11, 2008
You guys have a pretty unique vision of the world: if I gave you 10000$ cash what would you use it on? Would you be fiscally responsible and sock it away for your future needs, or would you would you invest in some glorious scheme of world domination?
That Theodore guy you never met
Well, Theodore, I imagine it would be more the latter. I’ve long resigned myself to my lack of financial savvy; in lieu of saving effectively, I’ve learned to squander with flare. As compensatory mechanisms go it’s up there with clawing the imaginary bugs from your skin…but it should make for some interesting graveside anecdotes come judgment time.
While I’m a mercurial sort, at the moment I am likely spending it on one of the following endeavors:
I’ve always wanted a trio of cellists to follow me around everywhere, adding poignancy to any minor defeat I suffered. Say the bus was late; I’d just hold my head in my hands and stare despondently at the ground, the sonorous weeping of strings lending weight to the moment, and class to the bus stop. Imagine the artful tyranny: no one could refuse any demand I made upon them…knowing my murder of Cellists would sweep into soaring lament at the first sign of refusal. It would be weaponized melancholy of the highest order…lyric guilt bending all wills to my purpose.
I’d even coat myself in a thin, sepia toned, polymer film, to give a grainy surreality to the proceedings…perhaps hire an alcoholic European clown to scoff bitterly at the obviousness of the whole thing, decry me as jejune parody of myself, in his brittle, syphilis ravaged voice. What a magnificent day it would be.
I’d buy me two of those pygmy Hippos. The first I’d call Chubby Charles, the second Grimaldo. I’d dress one up like a bowling ball, and the other a tiny Shrek, come Halloween. Both would be beaten with a ladle when I had a bad day a work, and oiled with saffron and bacon fat when I had good one. Eventually, when sufficient growth had occurred to permit it, I’d affix to each a saddle, and force midgets to joust upon them in my backyard…the loser condemned to sleep in the least prestigious of my dresser drawers.
A niche thrill, certainly, but one well worth the laborious setup…and far more gratifying than the sloth knife fight I’ve been trying to setup for years now.
 The inevitable skin failure this caused would only add to the posthumous Elephantman dignity I crave.
 Midget, not Hippo. And the winner would, of course, get to sleep in the most prestigious of my dresser drawers.