My new mantra is: “I want stuff. I’ll never have enough.”
Though somewhat late, I’m now getting in on the action. I’m planning to purchase a new white BMW convertible and can envision myself appearing really special as I tool around town with the wind blowing through my hair. Guess who will pay for it? That will be you. This car will be my first purchase since becoming a member of the Free Stuff Movement. Warning: You are the supporter of all of my excesses.
Soon I will start the application process for enrollment in the Harvard University Master of Writing program. While more expensive than many similar programs, it is my dream to be Harvard educated and I’m asking you to pay. A prestigious degree in writing, along with the massive marketing campaign I will launch (with your funding, of course), will make my novel a best seller and, in turn, make me famous. Maybe even a movie or TV show will be based on my story. Oh, and don’t forget transportation and housing expenses in Cambridge. Those things will also need your support. I promise to make you very proud of the way your money is being spent.
Eventually, I will be pressured to write a sequel to my novel and then my busy schedule as a BMW driving, newly degreed, famous author who participates in protests on weekends will requite me to hire a housekeeper and a cook. Of course, your taxes will pay for this new lifestyle. Maybe even a beach house. Oh, and don’t forget the iPhone upgrades and “in” wardrobe. The slogan for our organization is, “Just relax, they’ve got your backs.”
I’m worth every dime you will spend on me and I’m certain you agree that deciding to become an oldster taking advantage of my rights along with the youngsters in the Free Stuff Movement of America is a good thing. Someday you will even cease to mourn your low bank account balance and be more than happy you supported my extravagances.
Thank you very much! Merci beaucoup!
A trip last fall that included airports and planes, a rental car, interstate traffic, and night driving on country roads convinced some old people who reside in the home we own that they need to swear off of difficult trips. Then, last week, the Alumni director for the university where I taught invited Hubby and me to go on a Pioneers Adventure, the alumni association sponsored trip to celebrate the 50th anniversary of that group.
The temptation to be involved in a well-planned adventure with people I know is great. This Colorado trip (my favorite place) includes two nights at historic hotels; two breakfasts; two dinners, a vaudeville and melodrama show, a train ride on the Narrow Gage Railroad from Durango to Silverton and back, and time to sightsee and shop in both towns.
The problem? Durango is over 800 miles from our home – a two-day drive across Kansas plains and on mountain roads. This trip could only happen for us if we had young companions to take care of navigation and driving. So the reality is that we will not be going. Where was this group of the great plans when we were younger?
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