Feel Like a Million

You gotta love the comics. Only a few days ago, I commented on a Zippy strip on the nature of optimism.
Yesterday, the Zipster came to the rescue again with this bit on being a millionaire. After reading it, I slipped into a reverie about something I haven't though about in a long time--having a million dollars.
In fact, I haven't revisited my "winning the lottery" daydream since before the big economic collapse of last winter. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
Before the crash, when our personal finances were slipping more slowly, I'd often film little mind movies on the subject. They'd usually be set on a podium, where, flanked by our lawyers and state lottery officials, we'd accept the check and then take questions from the press.
And how would I plan to spend all that money? Of course, I'd be noble and generous. First, I'd see to it that family was taken care of. My mother would have a secure old age, my sons' and daughter's college would be paid off. Perhaps we'd pay off the house and invest in some energy-saving improvements we've been unable to afford.
Kind of pedestrian, huh? But what if I'd won an incredible amount of money? What if I'd caught that man-sized catfish of legend, the multi-state Powerball? There'd be plenty of cash left over after that for glitz. How to spend it?
And there's where the fun comes in. I'd dream of traveling anywhere and everywhere--and taking the grown kids with us. We'd camp--but only because we wanted to. Never just to save money. Sometimes we'd stay in posh resorts with multiple pools, too.
After that? If there was still cash left after that...I don't know. Maybe I'd start a foundation. Or buy me some government like the big boys do.
That's where it always ended. With me dreaming about setting up a nature conservancy (best idea: an audio museum, set far enough out in the country so that no internal combustion engines could be heard. Restricted air space included.) Or a PAC.
But, for whatever reason, I don't dream about winning the lottery any more. Maybe imagining a brighter future before the end of my life is just too big a stretch. If that's the case, this is a bad development.
On the other hand, maybe it's good to take those thoughts out of the realm of dreams. When I daydream about it, it stays just that. A daydream. Did any current millionaires spend much time daydreaming about future riches? I doubt it. Maybe it's better to put my mind to work conjuring a path--quickly, please--out of this financial nightmare.
Yeah, that's the ticket. I'm thinking in real terms, not dreams, about how to get at that money. We know it's there, behind the dam built by top-level CEOs to prevent any of it from trickling down. But I'm going to bust a hole in that dam, or die trying.
At least, that's the take I'm going with today.
Here's a favorite on the subject from the Barenaked Ladies.