I had a dream. But my dream wasn’t very noble.
I wanted to get rich. Disgustingly rich. Rich enough to buy a fast car so that I could speed up to every single red light, whizzing past your stupid Mazda, cooking greenhouse gases into the world because I would be very wealthy and the environment would be poor. I wanted to be rich enough to buy a boat.
But today, I write this as a poor man. A man who drives a 2010 Honda Insight and approaches red lights with a very conservative glide. I am not rich. Here’s why.
I was supposed to get rich off Fantasy Grudge — you know, the website that enables you to bet (or, if New York Attorney General Eric Schneiderman is reading this, use a very concise skill to invest my [kind of] hard-earned American dollars in a system that would allow me to profit) on surfing. Who knows surfing better than me? I’ve absorbed every magazine and every website ever since I was a fucking force to be reckoned with in 2007 Central New Jersey ESA circuit. I was once a D-grade professional surfer and my current jobs requires me to pay full attention to everything going on in surfing at all times. It made perfect sense. I would make very much money.
But I did not. Now I am down. Way down. I am poor.
So, the big question is, who is beating me? And why?
I might be guilty of breaking the cardinal rule of
gambling investing: never bet with your heart. In retrospect, my teams have been littered with Julians and John Johns and Filipes and Kolohes. I have never picked Parko. I have never picked Mick. I have never picked Adriano de Souza. I love progressive surfing and I have been betting with my heart, not with my logic. Now I am poor.
But there’s hope. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson. Maybe my next team will be unstoppable. Maybe I will get rich one day. Maybe…
Until then, here are some things I might buy as a poor person.
Hot plate: Spring suit: Wheelbarrow: The WQS: Hanes underwear: 311 CD: White bread: Methamphetamine: