…2..3..4 – An Xperience Column

“Brother, Can You Spare Ten Trillion Dimes?” 

By Chris Busone.

How many zeros in a trillion? The short answer is, a lot. The longer-winded, more comprehensive answer is that a trillion is made up of one thousand billions, each of which is comprised of nine zeros. So by the accepted, standard, short-scale numeric system used by the majority of the world, one trillion of anything is accompanied by twelve, count ’em, twelve zeros. Normally, to see that many zeros, one has to buy a ticket to a Kid Rock concert. 

But when it is referred to in a monetary sense … money, moolah, cash-dollars, coinage, cheddar … a trillion can only be quantified in fiduciary terms (and I believe I’m quoting Warren Buffett here) as a Butt-Load. Coincidentally, that’s a strikingly accurate description of the one and only person on the planet who has that kind of scratch on hand. But we’ll get back to him. Let’s first hear some thoughts from people of note throughout the ages on money and its worth.

Pablo Picasso paints a pretty picture: “I’d like to live like a poor man, only with lots of money.”

Famous money-grubbing oil baron J. Paul Getty says: “The meek shall inherit the earth. But not the mineral rights.”

And, never a bridesmaid and always a bride, Elizabeth Taylor muses: “Money is the best deodorant.”

Liz’s quote hits just right because she’s not so subtly hinting at the fact that no matter how much of a tool you are, if you’ve got it where it counts – your bank statement – you can pretty much get out of any jam, brush off any dirt, and bag the object of your desire. Or several of them as it turns out. The rest of us have to rely on charm, wit, and groveling.  

Let us take, for example, the individual who has been identified as the world’s first trillionaire, and conjure up a picture of him in our head. Now, luckily for guys like me, physical appearance isn’t the overriding factor in attracting the person of your dreams. But this doughy disaster of a specimen who is totally devoid of compassion, of caring for his fellow humans, or of anything else resembling a moral compass, has somehow fathered 14 children by four different women.

So, it’s only natural we ask ourselves, how does this walking papercut have so many romantic liaisons with significant individuals like an avant-garde musician, a venture capitalist/tech executive, an author, and a political commentator?

Well, let’s see; he’s a soulless douche … and he’s stinkin’ rich. Guess which one matters.

But let’s shift our weight for a moment. I, for one, have no issues with the acquisition of riches or those who acquire them. I am a huge fan of capitalism …YAY MONEY! I honestly believe that everyone has the right to make, spend, squirrel away, or fold into paper airplanes as much cash as they care to amass. And you should be able to spend it on anything you want without fear of reprisals.

Say, for instance, you want to spend it on … oh I don’t know … a d**k-shaped rocket. Go ahead! It’s your money. But if you’re spending billions on d**k-shaped rockets while not spending jacksh** on children starving all over the world, then sorry, Chauncey, you’re a bigger d**k than any rocket your billions could ever buy you. Christ, when I first started working a 9-5 job, I was making $237 every two weeks, and I still had $5 taken out of every check by NYS SEFA and donated to St. Jude’s. That doesn’t make me a saint, just a person. 

All kidding aside, all I’m saying is … just do the right thing, you rich weirdos. Oh, and maybe pay some taxes sometimes. 

That said, and philanthropy notwithstanding, it is my firm belief that you earned it and you can spend it on anything you desire. With one notable exception.

You should not buy yourself a world leader. It is absolutely not cool to go strolling through the aisles of Greedy Fu**s-R-Us and pick out a megalomaniac with a “For Sale” sign hung around his neck. “Oh, look honey, they have them in orange!”

No, when you start pulling crap like that, We the People have to stand up and make enough noise that those guys you paid and got elected get nervous, no matter how much you secretly funneled into their campaign and personal accounts. And we keep making that noise until we get you kicked out of your phony baloney government job they gifted you, which then causes you and your latest acquisition to have a lover’s spat in front of the entire world and all of us to tell you that your truck looks like a fingerprint-magnet/high-end-dumpster.

But other than that, spend, spend, spend, you crazy Richie Riches. Go get yourself that gold-plated enema bulb, the coveted Yodeling Pickle (an actual motion-activated plastic pickle that emits a high pitched yodel when least expected), the Elephant Man’s squash racket, Napoleon’s penis (yup, for reals, it exists in a jar somewhere), some two-headed ducks, an alien in a jar (all real, check Etsy), and a bag of Reindeer Farts for the kids (It’s just cotton candy but the littles buggers can’t get enough around holidays). 

Yes, if you truly believe that wealth and all the goodies it buys are the secret to a happy life, then make it rain dolla-dolla bills and have a ball. I myself have always followed the teaching of Marx – Groucho that is – and his philosophy that, “The secret to life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.”

So while I begrudge no one their shot at their own particular monetary wet dream, I would hope we can all do what we can, with what we have, for those who can’t.

And if you can’t see your way clear to pitch in, Chauncey, even with all your billions and trillions, while I wish you no ill will, I do hope you mistake your Yodeling Pickle for your gold-plated enema bulb, and it gets stuck, and every time you sit down, your ass sounds like one of those lederhosen-wearing dudes in the Alps. Here I’ll even count it off for you …2…3…4…YO-Da-Lay-EE-Hoo…!!$$$