I enjoy the simple things in life.

Caviar, yachting, sipping fine champagnes, the Cape in May.

A regular day for me might go something like this: rise whenever the mood strikes and have Jeeves fix me brekkie, usually an omelet with onions and the most endangered animal my crack team of poachers have rustled up the previous day.  Like any Ordinary Joe, I like my breakfast fresh; therefore the animal must be delivered to the manor very early in the morning, and Jeeves, bless his soul, must daily butcher creatures the likes of which he hasn’t even seen in zoology books.  It’s somewhat mundane, keeping the same routine every morn, but I like it.

After breakfast I typically check the old tickertape to see how my small fortune is doing, then sweat it out by getting in a quick 9 holes at my backyard country club, though if I’m really feeling ambitious I might stretch it out to 18 or even 36.  The custom built Bentley golf cart given to me for my 30th birthday by the President of the Congo (then Zaire) keeps me somewhat comfortable between shots, though the air conditioning system is IMHO deficient, and there’s no cruise control.  After my round, and after I am bathed and toweled by my staff of Brazilian, Eastern European, and Southeast Asian spa girls it’s off to the office for me!

To maximize my time, I usually use the office on the 3rd floor of the manse, the one with the best view of the sea.  There I can focus on the issues of the day, which often involve making money off of the misfortune of others.  Indeed, I am thankful and humbled that so many are so willing to work so hard for my modicum of comfort.

In the evening, I like to mix it up a little, if only 4 or 5 times a week.  I take the car (more accurately, to be fair, it takes me) into town and, swilling Scotch and enjoying a Cubano, I like to stop by drifters, toss fifty-dollar bills to the ground, and command them to pick them up.  It’s an interesting little sociological experiment.  They always do it!  Just one way to be charitable I guess. This is on the way to the gentleman’s club, in this case the gentleman being yours truly.  I have a few friends come by, typically beautiful women.  We dance and drink and screw each other silly.  If there is one thing I’ve learned it’s that you have to keep it simple to get by in this tough world.  Of that, good friend, I am sure.

All in all, it’s a good life.  The occasional lunch at the White House or cocktail at Warren Buffet’s are nice refreshers as well as reminders there is more to aspire to.  But not all the finest liquors and ladies, nor the taste of freshly butchered leopard liver can keep a man happy all the time.  Sometimes I yearn for more.  In these not infrequent moments, I am quick to try to remind myself that there are indeed those with less–fifteen or sixteen of whom are at work somewhere in this place as I dictate this modest dispatch.

But enough about me!


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