I find this a little embarrassing to admit — perhaps even more than just a little embarrassing — okay, it’s downright humiliating! — but ever since I’ve become a Celebrity Billionaire, I find that women still don’t appreciate it when I attempt to touch them inappropriately.
And I’m trying to figure out why.
My first thought is that it must be something about me, in particular, that elicits a negative reaction, because apparently there are plenty of other Celebrity Billionaires out there who get away with touching women inappropriately all the time.
Maybe it’s the size of my hands?
Don’t get me wrong. Ever since I’ve gained my Success and Notoriety — not to mention my Billions — I’ve never actually attempted to touch anyone inappropriately. This probably has something to do with having been raised an Oregonian with a deep sense of honor, decency, and shame. An appropriate upbringing is sometimes a little difficult to overcome. But it has recently come to light that once you become Rich and Famous, you are given license to do pretty much whatever you want to whomever you want — honor and decency be damned. Isn’t that right?
But I still keep getting this feeling that an inappropriate grope just wouldn’t go over very well.
I’ve been a Celebrity ever since I started writing this column. There are literally tens and tens of people who may have momentarily glanced at my byline. And I’ve been a Billionaire ever since I converted my life’s savings from U.S. dollars to the Vietnamese dong. Which, by the way, I still think was a smart move, despite all the fuss my wife has been making.
But it’s this inappropriate touching thing that’s really got me boondoggled. I’m wondering if it has something to do with the name. “Inappropriate” has such negative connotations. Perhaps we need to update the phrase. Instead of “inappropriate touching,” we could call it “alternative touching,” or maybe rebrand it to something more light and jingling, like “give a fancy.” Next time I’m at a party with Warren Buffett and Bill Gates (we’re like this), I can say, “Hey Buffy! Billy! See that woman over there? I just gave her a fancy!” I can already see them, nodding their heads in approval, high-fives, moving me up a notch on the totem of Celebrity Billionaires. Then I’ll say, “Wanna go hit the men’s room with me? I gotta wash my hands.”
That’s another thing, though. Maybe it isn’t the name, or my glove size, but my attitude. I’m probably not approaching this with the right entrepreneurial spirit. Being new at this Rich and Famous thing, I’m still kind of at a loss as to the whole point of “I.T.”
As our president once so delicately explained to us, if you’re a Rich and Famous man, women actually want you to touch them inappropriately. When I heard this, I was, like, “Really?! Are you sure about that?!” As he further extrapolated upon this remarkable phenomenon, I believe he used the words “pussy” and “grab” in the same sentence. And this is where I’m still confused. Because when I hear the word “pussy,” I think “cat.” And I would never use the words “cat” and “grab” in the same sentence, because grabbing a cat is about as stupid as kissing a rattlesnake. I don’t care how much Fame and Wealth a person has. I know I never grab my cat, because she has a lot of very sharp points on the ends of her very fast appendages. You can wrap your wounds in C-notes, but they’re still gonna bleed!
Maybe I have not exercised my rights as a card-carrying Celebrity Billionaire because this is how I imagine things would go: I’m at a fancy party, a “gala” I believe they’re called. At dinner I’m seated next to a woman who apparently is also Rich and Powerful, or she wouldn’t be at this fancy gala. Even though she has been studiously ignoring me since the salad was served, I take advantage of the fact that she OBVIOUSLY WANTS ME TO DO THIS, so I surreptitiously reach my hand under the table ... and immediately feel the splash of a ’93 Cabernet in my face, the smash of a large cool diamond grinding into my nose at the end of a multi-ringed fist, and the jab of a well-placed Imelda-worthy stiletto hitting me right below my paisley cumberbund ...
So I’ve been thinking, I’m really not cut out for this Celebrity Billionaire gig after all. I’m going back to my old life of honor, decency, and shame. And while there’s nothing I can do about my status as a Celebrity, I’ve decided what to do about the Billionaire part.
Don’t tell my wife, but I’m using my dong to buy old Enron stock.
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