War of the Wealthy's

This is from my MySpace blog. Orginal post date: June 27, 2007.

Ahh, the joys of money.

As I stand here, lonely at my podium of money, I look around and realize what money does to people.

On the Platinum Level of American Airlines Center, the so-called "Rich and Famous" of Dallas fancily parade around, flaunting their dates and attire to others as if in competition with everyone else to see who projects the wealthiest image.

Even with the pounding of raindrops on the warm, Texas-summer concrete outside, the attire is much too ritzy for a meaningless concert by "The Police."

I know, I know. The Police are historic. A great rock band of the 70s. Even if they have broken-up more than the ground after an 8.0-magnitude earthquake.

But, seriously. Thunderstorms are raging outside. The Police are mediocre. Why do these numbers-rich bank account owners insist on engaging in wealth wars?

I can picture their typical thought process while preparing for such a battle.

Step One, Grooming. Take a shower and shave. There are no rules for the amount of gel or mousse to be used in the hair. The amount necessary to hold it perfectly in place even if you were deep sea diving is acceptable.

Step Two, The Proper Attire. Should I wear the traditional black? Or venture out onto the daring ledge with bright red? Should I wear the opposite of what I think the competition is going to wear? I mean, we can't be seen wearing the same outift, let alone the same color scheme. Besides, red IS a color on a standard, police-issued patrol car.

Step Three, Outsmarting the Competition. What attitude should I portray for this event? Is this similar to a black-tie event in which I must project my enormous wealth and mannerisms? Or is a lower key, "make fun of all the people without money" event?

Step Four, The Projection. Welcome to the Main Event. It all comes down to this. All thoughts and events have led to this moment. I have to project myself and let everyone know that I am best of the best.

Step Five, The Cooldown. Well, now that the hardest part is over, I can relax and be myself a bit. I'm on the way out and I have finished making my rounds and firmly believe that everyone here knows my elegant status and worth. I think I won the war.

Step Six, The End. Well, it's over. I'm home and ready to go to bed. Whatever her name is will be sleeping with me though. What should I wear to bed? How does my hair look?

Are you kidding me? What a load of crap. Too much work in my opinion. What the hell is wealth is supposed to do for you anyway?

The "joys" of money? Right. Seems more like the duties and responsibilities that come along with the job. Or could it be that these wealthy weirdos are simply faking it?

Do they even HAVE any money? It sure seems like it. Their lackluster attitude, manners, and sense of fashion prove this to be true. But perhaps it is just a brilliant performance worthy of an Oscar. And also worthy of a call to the television show "What Not To Wear."

I guess we'll never know the truth behind the wealth wars. Thank goodness for The Police playing their "smoking" hits and saving the day.

At least we won't have to call the fashion police.