Driving to work one morning I began to think about my life’s goals and evaluate if my thoughts and actions were consistent with what needed to be done in order to achieve those goals. More than 5 years ago I documented 6 common goals. The goals I selected to document were not special; in fact they are probably shared by nearly everyone. I documented each goal on a small slip of paper. I slipped those papers, in order of priority, into a small but conspicuous pocket in a black notebook I keep my notes in. Occasionally, without much forethought, I pull the stack of dog-eared and torn papers from their protective pocket and reevaluate their order of importance. Each time the tiny, yellow ragged pieces of paper, representing my life’s goals are evaluated, I find that the original order is appropriate and carefully slide them back into their protective pouch to be evaluated another day.
The papers, in order or priority have these words written on them:
- Relationship with my wife and children
- Community
- Education
- Health
- Religion
- Wealth
While driving, my mind, influenced by habits and hormones, (and perhaps too much caffeine) begins to question why I rated "Wealth" at the bottom of my list. "You can’t take it with you", I thought. This is a phrase commonly muttered by people about to spend large amounts of money on some luxury item that had no lasting value. The purchaser is convinced that they will love the item and that owning the item will bring them happiness. My commute meanderings were interrupted when, from the corner of my eye I spotted a big breasted blond driving a fancy, silver Porsche Carrera GT. The Carrera GT is a 5.7 liter, 600 hp V-10, high performance, sports car, with a top speed of 205 mph and is capable of accelerating from 0 mph to 60 mph in 3.6 seconds. I sure would love to have the $440,000 in greenbacks needed to buy one of those. Behind the Porsche Carrera GT, a super pumper slowly passes me. A super pumper is a truck hauling a large cylinder used to transport sewage removed from porta-potties and backed-up septic tanks. The sign on the side of the Supertanker said "McDonalds Pumping, Licensed, Bonded, Insured".
The tractor trailer, tugging its sewage filled tank pulled along side of me I looked up at Mr. McDonald. He looked like a happy, middle aged man and appeared to be whistling. Mr. McDonald looked down at me and smiled. I smiled back.
I pressed on my breaks as the Porsche Carrera, GT slowed in front of me. The license plate on the back of the super pumper said "Ron1". I assumed it was short for Ronald. The license plate on the back of the Porsche Carrera read "Dancer1". I assumed the driver of the sports car was a dancer, whose wealth was accumulated by rubbing her surgically altered breasts in the faces of nameless, lonely, rich guys.
On the back of the sewage containing cylinder someone had rubbed the dirt away with their finger allowing the stainless steel tanker to shine through. The letters read, "Show Your Tits".
My grandfather, before the ravages of chronic emphysema prevented him from absorbing oxygen, used to whistle constantly. His favorite tune to whistle was "Blue Moon". "Blue Moon was a classic, popular song written in 1934 by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart. The lyrics and title of the song refer to an English expression "Once in a Blue Moon" as it pertains to a stroke of good luck. According to Wikipedia, a "Blue Moon" is either the second full moon in a month or the third one when four full moons occur in one season of the year, which is somewhat of a rare occurrence. If something happens "Once in a blue moon", it almost never happens.
Ronald McDonald and his super tanker loaded with unwanted cargo slowly chugged past the Carrera GT. As fate would have it, the blond with the $440,000 udders noticed the shiny letters on the back of the tanker at the Macdonald off ramp of the 101.
In addition to whistling, my grandfather often talked about "Prosperity" and about how much better things were now then when he was a kid. He would say, "Scott, study hard and go to college so you can make lots of money. Wealth brings prosperity".
Once again I pressed on my breaks as the Carrera GT slowed, now even with Ronald McDonald.
This is the moment, at the off ramp to Macdonald and the 101, that the prosperous, buxom blond did something extremely dangerous while driving. She lifted her top up and over her head.
I saw Ronald McDonald look down and smile. The suggestion etched into the dirt on the back of his sloshing, elevated, silver cesspool had been answered. Ronald McDonald didn’t care if the naked breasts were surgically altered or that they might have been rubbed in the faces of nameless, lonely rich guys for money.
The boobs in the Carrera GT sped off, and Ronald McDonald looked up and began to whistle. I wonder if he was whistling "Blue Moon".
