There are things I would have told any offspring I may have had, if I’d chosen to do my part in propagating the species. A few of them came to mind earlier this week.
- Money is not better than character.
- Cosmetic surgery is not a remedy for aging.
- There is no substitute for good manners.
Nouveau riche is not a flattering description. I have had the extreme misfortune to interact with an aging, social climber who has scaled another rung on the ladder to upward mobility.
I do not understand cosmetic surgery in the quest for continued youth. There must be a terrible amount of pressure on the brain for synchronicity with an exceedingly ALERT eye job. My eyebrows are slowly sliding onto my cheeks and I’m grateful. Pretty soon I’ll have the appearance of permanent slumber, expectations of awareness will diminish.
Generally, established wealth produces impeccable manners (not to be confused with integrity). I’ve met some financially distinguished individuals in my travels and, with one memorable exception, they have all had truly, lovely manners. The same cannot be said of those who merely think it’s coming out the wazoo.
I am being sorely punished by a sadistic universe. It is a distortion of the laws of nature that I should be continually tortured by by superficiality. A beneficent universe would protect me from fakes and opportunists.