loaded and useless

Who cares about becoming a millionaire?

Millionaires are too common: now, you can find self-help books promising to get you on the road toward ending up a billionaire. Oh my Gawd, how intimidating! Last title I looked into explained thoroughly how to save $1,000 when you purchase your next car. You buy a million cars and you have saved a billion bucks. Everybody can do that! What?!

Call me a sucker. For the past 35 years I have read a plethora of get-rich material, nearly a thousand books filled with money-making, success inducing snake oil. Everything I have read could be condensed to a 25 page manual if you want to waste that much paper.

You don't get rich with that type of nonsense, but it used to be somewhat entertaining. I can't help it, I am merely bored out of my skull reading such garbage today. Mostly it is recycled waste from the 1970s and '80s. What idiot does one have to be to entertain the goal 'millionaire' or 'billionaire,' anyway? As if that had a quality just by itself.

Please do understand me: I have nothing against billionaires! People do what they want to do and they end up in the money, preferably lots of it. Fine! Absolutely fantastic and I have respect for a bunch of them. Please understand me again correctly: I do not respect individuals for the heaps of money they have accumulated. I respect them--if I do--for the character they have and for certain things they have done. Their money is almost meaningless. I am glad it's there but that is that.

On the other hand, desperately trying to make money no matter what, in order to call yourself millionaire or billionaire is as empty as anything can be. Such folks are living--do they, really?--breathing pathetic jokes.

The question is not 'what to do to become a millionaire,' but why?

To be better off? To buy yourself out of the trouble you are in now? To gain freedom you don't experience today? To feel more relaxed? To be less depressed and more happy? To end discomfort and tension?

On January 5th, a German billionaire, Adolf Merckle, threw himself under a train and successfully committed suicide. "I am sorry," said the note he left behind for his wife. In 2007, Mr. Merckle was No. 44 on the Forbes list of the world's wealthiest people.

On sunny days he rode his ancient bicycle to work, and when it rained he drove his VW Rabbit. He employed about 100,000 people, supported a Leukemia charity, he collected supermarket stamps, and returned empty bottles for the deposit.

I am sure a lot of billionaire wannabes dream of returning their empty water bottles to the grocery store for a nickel each, once they get rich. Get-rich-quick aspirants can't wait to enjoy their daily commute to work on their rusty bicycles. And when they get home after a 16-hour work day, they are checking their local rag for coupons.

Hey, I am not making this up! This was the REALITY of a 74 year old billionaire until last week. It differs a bit from what those who haven't made it yet expect from the typical billionaire life style, doesn't it? And then, there is something else that separates insipid money dreams from the facts:

There is no sum of money large enough to protect you from yourself!

One dead billionaire should be sufficient proof for you that money will never buy you out of feeling sorry for yourself. Tension, problems, the emotional roller-coaster we all know too well--all these experiences and challenges may very well be related to monetary issues, but we cannot solve them by throwing enough dollars at our problems. We can't.

Financial salvation is a childish dream. The sooner we realize that, the easier it is to make money and to enjoy it for what it is. Currency is useful to purchase goods and services with. That's it. It cannot fulfill dreams. Cash is a bad pacifier and money is certainly a cruel people-pleaser.

Adolf Merckle was a wussy. He was not a billionaire I have respect for. Adolf M. was the same type of shit weasel like those who wait for more money to end their "unbearable" situation, so that they can enter "financial independence.". Five bucks an hour or $40 billion dollars of annual revenue. What's the damn difference if you can't stomach the tension that comes with life, naturally?

You know, there are billionaire dorks. And for each dorky billionaire, there are millions of dorks eager to get there as well. That's great and I am thrilled you are not one of those people! It is helpful and clarifying, though, to see it from time to time.

Once more: I am not making fun of or writing against having oodles of money. On the contrary, money is fine ... as long as you don't lose yourself in it or die for its cause.

Do what you want, baby, even if you hate it!

Egbert Sukop

P.S.: Oh, and buy my damn book 'How to Better Hate Your Job.' I promise, I'll be glad you did!