The billion dollar question

Here we are again, and here you are again, in our cozy little corner, in the backstreets of this big, noisy, overinflated cyberjungle. That such wonderful singularities can emerge from such chaos is astonishing. Singular friendships. Quantum billiards.

Welcome! Banana split, anyone? Colorful cocktails? Refreshing smoothies?

Life can be sweet.

So let's chill out and dream away...

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They say that great wealth allows people to be exactly who they really are. If you had a billion Eurodollar pounds, what would you do?

For example, would you still want to have a 24/7 job?

Or would you – for example -- build your dream house (small enough to find your spouse in it) some place nice? And fly your favorite family and friends over once in a while? And pay their Internet and phone bills so they don't have any excuse for not keeping in touch? And the rest of the time enjoy whatever it is you really enjoy and makes you happy? Yes, you have to update your investment portfolio now and then to make sure you can keep it up. But otherwise, really, you can do anything you like! You can even do things people get paid to do! But solely cause you like them! Go canoing. Read. Solve equations. Travel. Have five children. Buy five more. Raise them yourself!! And twenty dogs! Knit. Cook. Go shopping. In Paris. Learn the piano. Write books. Songs. Publish them. Blog, if you must. Feed the children. Save the world. It's up to you!

There are people who see things differently, of course. Typically CEOs of gigantic companies with creative accountants. And talentless, vain superstars with no taste, not even in stylists and interior decorators. There are people who must have more billions. More phony fans. People who just can't quit bossing people around.

Poor them.

They say if you are poor, despite your best intentions and hardest efforts to find a decent day's work, you really don't deserve being poor. Isn't that right? Well then if you got all the riches in the world and you don't know what the heck to do with them, you are really not worth it either.

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For one week, starting today, our silly and charming teenage nephew will be visiting us. Finally! A third human in our house! We will have to strike a delicate balance between inappropriate silly behavior, which is a daily occurrence in our household, and what appears (to the untrained eye) to be the dull life of two married people who regularly go to bed earlier than the chickens do.

How did you think we stay young? See? No wrinkles!

The secret to our gorgeous, youthful looks and spirits is very simple indeed: good sleep, delicious food, plenty of water, vitamins, our daily abs, music, movies, books, silliness, using our legs, and sun protection SPF 50 (20 in the winter). Elementary.

And coffee. And no alcohol. Except when we have cyberguests.

A new round of Blue Margaritas then!

Those Sinister Dinner Deals, Those Alleged Mysterious Ways

We -- that's Roufa and Mimi -- have reached an age where we can finally enjoy our being intelligent. We can't complain. There was some trouble coming to terms with it during the Age of Ignorance, but no more. For one, it's great to hear our teenage nephew say he's proud to have “two professors” in his family. (We are not professors.) When he had to interview someone important for school and realized that athletes, singers, actors and actresses were not very reachable, he came to us. We explained nuclear physics to him in two neat paragraphs, made him happy and his teacher very impressed. This is what we are intelligent for.

No matter what your IQ, you will not make sense of life and death and love and evil in a million words. Maybe in a few of them. If you are any lucky, you will produce the Purest Nugget of Green. Sell it to the locals for Gold. Tomorrow you may die. Your words still lingering to spook your family and friends, like a vacant pair of slippers next to your bed; an orphaned package of cigarettes, dirty laundry – will they wash them?

While we are writing this, the white noise of the Internet is consuming itself, a multiverse of flaming lips bellow at the firmament:

Fire! I am fire! I am on fire!

A million babies push their way out to the world, girls and women become mothers, mothers become mothers again, mothers lose their children, mothers reject their children, childless mothers stall in confusion, their cradles still unfilled. A nun is dead.

Someone out there is dealing his world for some change. And would you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

Of course you would.

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We are not going to die tomorrow. What are the chances anyway. Sven will sting us a million times, on many days to come. We will buy a French Bulldog, preferably black with a white stripe across the muzzle. We will give her a funny name.

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The first reader to guess right the names of everybody famous or rather famous that we have quoted in this post wins a FREE! subscription to our blog. And a FREE! visit from us.