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Several years ago, I ran a few ads for an in-demand escort about whom I was recently reminded while reading a book about New York Knick Hall of Famer BERNARD KING. Bertha was a tall, somewhat pretty blasian with an hourglass shape, a gorgeous voice, and horrible implants. Trumping all her credits and deficits was an uncommon talent for oral service. Thus, she made a lot of money.

On occasion, our protagonist talked about her basketball-playing past. But I knew it was mostly bull shit because she never mentioned any college – or even high school experience. I judged her to be a dabbler. Escorts often pretend to be this or that. But ultimately, they’re almost always escorts – and not much else.  Continue Reading

Many years ago I was visiting a half Asian/half American house to pick up money for the various ads they were running through me when uncharacteristically, I saw a customer sitting on the couch cradling a $500 bottle of Johnny Walker Black and a shot glass in his arm. Anybody who wanted to sample the nectar of the gods was welcome.

Not particularly a fan of scotch, I declined the first offer. But when he insisted I give it a try. By and by, the guy got up off the couch to take his leave whereupon I observed to one of the latinas who serviced the clients what a nice guy they’d entertained. She responded that in fact, he was quite the stud as well as having a pleasing personality. Continue Reading

Once upon a time (and maybe now, too – who knows) EROS.COM was the bane of every advertising agent’s existence. Girls who were forwarding hundreds of dollars a week in print ads to their reps suddenly had a new advertising medium with which they could earn the same amount of cash purchasing just one super cheap monthly ad. How were we agents supposed to make a living selling that ad?

But that wasn’t all that we hated about Eros. They were impossible to deal with and extremely inaccurate and late posting the ads we submitted. Too often, they’d run your card and then forget about publishing the ad. It was a major scuttlefuck. But we had to sell Eros because that’s what all the girls wanted. Continue Reading

Yesterday while searching through You Tube for what I can’t remember, I somehow arrived at a bunch of videos detailing the various signs and body language that would indicate whether the girl you’re cracking on is interested in you. Most of the observations were fairly intuitive (like if you’re chatting up a girl at a bar and she turns to her friend and mouths the word “loser,” you might consider moving on). Still there were a few things I found enlightening in all those videos.

Now I could figure if a girl begins fingering or licking her lips while you’re talking to her, that might be an indication she’s interested. But it never occurred to me that if the same girl begins playing with her hair – and especially twirling it (assuming she has enough hair to twirl) that’s a sure sign she likes you. I don’t know about that. It seems to me hair-twirling could be a sign of boredom. But several videos cited the same thing. Which would lead me to believe there might be some truth to the theory. Continue Reading

Watching the Grammys at this point in my life is often painful – as the appeal of much of the music eludes me. But hopefully, there will be a few precious moments and enough modern-style enlightenment to make the effort worth my while. And I’m happy to report that last night’s presentation had a few good moments.

ELTON JOHN and MILEY CYRUS were surprisingly good. And I even enjoyed CARDI B and BRUNO MARS. But the best segment was clearly the FIRE AND FURY readings. I got the feeling that the show had a “fuck Donald Trump” sub theme. And my suspicions were confirmed with the aforementioned skit. Continue Reading

Knowledge is power. At least that’s what everybody says. But sometimes ya just know too much. Like when I was a cab driver. I always recognized a stripper when she entered the cab. I could just tell by the big ol’ bag she carried.

So just this past Sunday, I opened up my email to find a $2 coupon for anything in the grocery department at CVS. No minimum purchase. So if you find something for two bucks, it’s free! Need I tell y’all, I took a morning constitutional over to the local branch.  Continue Reading

Do you think MELANIA TRUMP ever really loved Donald? Or did she just marry him for the money and prestige of it all? Who knows? Maybe both. Stranger things have happened. I’m constantly in amazement at some of the douchebags male friends have fallen for and assholes women find oh so appealing.

Well anyway…January 22nd marks the Trumps’ 13th wedding anniversary. DJT is in Davos at a big meeting and Melania was to join him. Small problem. She changed her fucking mind. I feel for her – even if it was painfully obvious the kind of man she was marrying.

So why do I think Melania called off the trip? Does it have something to do with the recently revealed news that her philandering husband was diddling a porn star 4 months after their baby was born? My guess is yes to that question. Yeah (again), she knew who she married when taking the plunge. But still, it’s no fun to have that shit thrown in your face in such an ignominious fashion. But here’s what I figure is really going on: Continue Reading

At this point, pretty much everybody knows about LARRY NASSAR‘s sexual abuse of seemingly the entire female USA olympic gymnastics team. But exactly what did Larry do with all these girls to land himself in the slammer for the rest of his life?

Well first (and to clarify), Nassar is already serving a 60 year sentence for owning and distributing child pornography. The Feds claim they found 37,000 images of such on his computer. Whether it was 37,000, 3700, or 370 matters not. It’s fairly obvious that Nassar is into kids.

But all this sexual abuse of children didn’t exist just in a twisted fantasy world. Larry was apparently prolific with the division of mostly underage athletes he “treated” as a renowned sports doctor. Michigan State University and the olympic training facility were his playgrounds. And athletes affiliated with both were his playmates. Continue Reading

Granted, presidents have been cheating on their wives since there were presidents. At least in the USA. But cheating with a porn star? Leave it to the DONALD.

I have to admit I was impressed. Trump had an “affair” with her? That would imply some sort of feelings were involved. And there was an actual relationship. But read the 2011 interview STORMY DANIELS did with IN TOUCH Magazine and you (more or less) get the real story.

The dynamic duo first met at a (drum roll) golf tournament (where else besides a models and millionaire party). DJT was smitten (hey, she’s blonde with fake tits) and asked for her number. I won’t bother to go into their entire history. But from the interview, here are the essentials: During their friendship, it appears that the two had sex exactly once! The experience was “generic” (her description) and in one position. She added that it was about what she would expect from a man his age and that she could “definitely describe his junk” (which she didn’t). Continue Reading

I get that in the new technological world, abbreviations and a new sort of shorthand rule. I myself will send text messages along the lines of “r u wrkng 2nite?” But here’s the difference: I know how to write “Are you working tonight?” correctly. But I’m not so sure about everybody else.

Reading through comments and posts written by men who earn enough money to pay women $300 for an hour of their time, I’m constantly amazed at their grammatical errors. It makes me wonder if they slept through the third grade! You would think earners in their category would know the difference among “they’re,” “there,” and their.” Or “two,” “too,” and “to.” I understand that skilled blue-collar laborers can make into 6 figures even though they slept through grammar school. But still…I remain amazed. Continue Reading

You know the old joke about lawyers, right? If you don’t, here goes: Lawyer on the beach up to his neck in sand. What’s wrong with this picture? Answer: Not enough sand. Haha! Ok! To be truthful, I like my lawyers. They’re nice Jewish boys in Armani suits – which I’ve paid for many times over. But 100% they ain’t.

Like just for example…I had an important meeting yesterday at which my lawyer was supposed to be present. He forgot! And that’s the second time the dude pulled that stunt. I pay this guy $525/hour. And that includes his commutation time! Still, he’s a no-show. Brilliant!

I got another barrister at the firm (I know…Muckety Muck Bill). This dude is strictly the money guy. Ya know, the tax expert. I arrive home yesterday to find an email from him declaring “Dollar Bill Wins”…referring to the final final notice that I don’t owe the IRS any money.  Continue Reading

I know it sounds weird…but I’ve come to appreciate our president. And ya know why? Because he gives me something to write about every day!

So anyway…along with his “shithole country” remark, el jefe wondered out loud why people from Norway don’t want to emigrate to the US. How come we only get the “shitholers” (my word)?

And now I’m gonna tell ya why, Mr. T. Because to people from Norway (and pretty much all the Scandinavian countries), the United States is a shithole country! On balance, the educational and health systems are superior where they live. The standard of living is higher – and people are happier. And one more thing: They don’t have Donald Trump as their leader! Finally…their country isn’t trying to dictate to the world.  Continue Reading

Every day, it seems we get another news flash revealing our current president’s colorful personality. One day he refers to third world countries as “shitholes.” The next he declares he’s “the least racist person you’d ever want to see.” And yesterday, a story surfaced about an affair with yet another blond-haired, fake-breasted, and flat-assed woman – this one a porn star by the name of STORMY DANIELS.

At this point, we’ve gotten an eyeful of the Donald’s women past and present. And here’s what I wanna know: Yo, DJT! Where your women of color, brother? Don’t tell me there isn’t one woman in that vast pool of beauty you never busted a clumsy move on. I have a theory herein. Black women simply do not appeal to him sexually. But he’s no racist, right? Continue Reading

Yesterday, I received an email from a guy who reported that he booked a session through some site I never heard of. And when he arrived, the girl who welcomed him was SUNNY, longtime favorite of many guys who have visited this site.

His correspondence brought me back literally 20 years to the night I first met Ms. Sunshine. An advertiser had two new girls who needed pictures. Those girls turned out to be Sunny and HANA, yet another perennial mainstay on the Korean scene.

It’s a curious fact of life in the Korean community that many of the girls you meet in the room eventually get together with a friend, rent out a place, and become the owners -often while still working in the room. And so it was with both Sunny and Hana. Hit and run denizens of the business they clearly were not. Both remained – one as an owner/worker – and the other as simply an owner (she’d seen enough guys in the room for 100 lifetimes was the joke I used to make). Continue Reading

There he stood as proud and regal as could be. The president of the United States of America – arguably the planet’s greatest country – had his hand over his heart as he sang along to the country’s national anthem. Small problem, though. He doesn’t know the words. Now there’s your patriot right there!

I’ll give the Donald one thing: He never fails to amaze! The president doesn’t know the words to the national anthem? Get the fuck outta here! Makes me question whether he could pass a citizenship test! I wonder what all the rednecks who elected him think now? Exactly! They don’t think. Or else why would they have elected him? Gadzooks! No experience…no brains…and a track record of bankruptcies and bailouts. Now that’s presidential material right there.

Here’s DJT phumphering through the anthem.

Harkening back to the “lesson learned” post from a few days ago, I’m sorry to report that the ballbuster woman from the senior center didn’t learn her lesson despite my overt displays (saluting el jefe and calling her “boss”). It turns out she was deeply offended and expressed her dissatisfaction to the big boss (a compassionate, sensible woman who I happen to like). But it wasn’t until the end of the shift that I heard about all that.

The milfy type who’s number 2 at the joint, referred to me as the “undercover boss” (from the tv show) when I arrived, the implication being that there’s something about me that rings of competence and leadership. She’s in the process of figuring out that there’s more than meets the eye with this new guy William.  Continue Reading

Reading back through forum conjecture about me, I had to laugh at some of the assumptions guys made about my riches. Several surmised that I owned a “service.” Others thought I was getting paid on a click by click basis. Still more assumed the ad fees on this site were way higher than they actually were or that I got a piece of every guy who walked in the door. Mostly, everybody was off the mark.

First, let me say that this blog was never a big moneymaker. I founded it simply to ventilate on the frustrations of dealing with many difficult people. It was not designed to make me rich. That had already happened from selling advertising. But I wasn’t the only entity doing that. So how come I amassed wealth when people like Somad, the infamous advertising agency which got busted wide open several years ago, was actually in poor financial condition? It was the business model. Continue Reading

The other day I was having (or trying to have) a serious conversation with a cute hooker I know. Her taste in boyfriends is more than a little suspect and I presumed to suggest that she stop dating drug dealers and thugs in favor of somebody with half a brain and future. The woman pondered my advice and answered “Well I am a smart girl,” meaning she has the right stuff to mentally stimulate a man like that.

I will say that this individual has her gifts. But mental agility simply isn’t one of them. To be blunt, the girl is a dumbbell. And harsh as that appraisal may seem, it might serve her well to understand that. Continue Reading

As mentioned recently, I have shifted volunteer locations from the Catholic Worker to a senior center a scant 300 yards east. My colleagues at the new place are markedly different. Over at the CW, almost nobody who helps out actually makes a living. Most are dysfunctional and one rung up the ladder from our guests (a lot of the volunteers live rent-free in a bed-bug ridden dorm upstairs).

I am the only volunteer at the senior center. And I don’t mean that in the hood vernacular. Everybody else (mostly women with Masters in Social Work) are paid employees. Right now, they know little about me. And I keep it that way – at least for the moment. One of the women I work with is a good-looking latina MILF. She’s new and took to me immediately – I assume because I knew how to run the joint (from previous days volunteering there many months ago) – and it looked like I could make her job easier. Continue Reading

In a phone conversation with a friend last night, she revealed that her grandson is in the habit of leaving currency he received for Christmas (and too much of it) on top of his bureau – even leaving some on the floor of his room as if it were discarded pieces of paper. I find this curious as I know his father to be cheap while grandma is actually a total spendthrift. Apparently at least in this case, nurture has trumped nature. The example his easy-come easy-go grandparent has displayed is what’s stuck.

In my case, I was raised by a parent who simply could never live within her means. My father used to derisively refer to mom (after the divorce) as “piss elegant.” (How ugly is that?) Her blue-collar caretaker (at the end of her life) confided in me “I don’t know what it is about your mother. She just has to be high society.” Both observations were right on. Just the latter is a little gentler. Continue Reading

On January 1st of the new year, the minimum wage was raised in 18 states. The $1.50 an hour compensation I received for lugging beach chairs 50 years ago has risen to $13 an hour. Are the beneficiaries of the raise worth it? I’m not an expert on the subject. But I will give you some anecdotal material to ponder.

I have a K Mart in my neighborhood where I will often pick up stuff at the service desk I order online. Said desk is (judging by their performance) manned by minimum wage workers. So just yesterday, I hiked over to the store to pick up my order and was received by a not-too-swift black woman of maybe 50 or 60 years. Continue Reading

Come Christmastime (at least this year), my email and snail mail boxes received some interesting discounts. Two worked out beautifully (Shutterfly and CVS 50% off photos), but one was so bad I just have to dedicate a post today to warn my brothers and sisters against falling for the hype as did I.

The hustler’s name is INSTACART, a corporation that partners with big food chains and supermarkets to deliver the groceries you want at a reasonable price. This past Thanksgiving they sent $25 coupons on a $35 purchase to every mailbox in the East Village (and probably all over the metropolitan area as well). Continue Reading

Ok! I get it. Network news women aren’t supposed to be boner-inducing. But wait a minute! Yes, they are – in some cases. After all, boners make the world go ’round. Recent events in the sexual harassment realm confirm that!

So if network news women – and most women who appear on tv news – are supposed to be boner-inducing, why are they almost uniformly so unappealing? Exactly who in personnel is making these decisions?

The single most erection-withering woman in news has to be DANA TYLER, CBS’s long time New York 6 PM anchor. I literally cringe every time I see her. In fact, she’s so nausea-inducing that I think I’d rather watch that Cars For Kids commercial – though they’re kind of a photo-finish in the shudder category (sorry, couldn’t resist). Continue Reading

As I continue to plow through the series “THE WIRE,” I find more and more relatable info concerning how the authorities track their prey. And watching Stringer switch out SIM cards on his phone brought a curious event to mind.

One of the first things I did after the feds paid me a visit was to shut off my home phone, ditch my cell, and get a burner. I wasn’t sure if my phones had been tapped but it was a reasonable assumption that if they hadn’t, they were about to be – and I should switch them out. Not that there was a lot to hear at that point. I’d stopped posting Backpage and selling the Village Voice. So in essence except for the blog, I was out of business as an advertising agency.

With a little research, I found a ghetto type check cashing place that sold nameless burners remarkably cheap. And every three months, I’d buy a new SIM card and change the number. Really, I had no idea if I was “wired up” or not. But it seemed like the prudent thing to do. If the feds had a hankering to listen in to my boring conversations, I could at least make them earn it. At times, I’d stay on the phone with idiots (like the Poonjab Princess) for extended periods of time just to bore them to death if they were listening. Continue Reading

For some Yanks from up North, country music is an acquired taste they never acquire. I for one liked country before I even knew what I was listening to. But the following isn’t designed for guys like me. It’s for those unfortunates who just don’t understand the genre’s value. This should convince any hot-blooded hetero to reconsider. You be the judge.

Love and physical attraction have neither rhyme nor reason. If years of experience have taught me one lesson, there it is! And nothing could be more in evidence within my social world.

Down at the Catholic Worker (where I’m about to exit in favor of the senior center around the corner), the love mess is in full effect. A sort of cute little fire hydrant of a muslim girl and an old, rude asshole have fallen head over heels for each other. He’s almost twice her age and clearly a huge loser. The house does have a couple of residents who are much better-looking, much younger, and much friendlier than her object of affection. The union makes absolutely no sense on paper. Yet, there it is. Nobody can figure out why. Continue Reading

Like most millennial personalities (ha ha), I have multiple email accounts. Why would a geezer like yours truly even bother? Well, hopefully, at least one hasn’t been hacked by someone I’d rather wasn’t reading my correspondence.

Digression: A couple of years back, Time Warner sent me a letter to the effect that my email account might have been hacked. Ya think? Let me give y’all a hint. It was hacked – and I know who hacked it, you dumbasses! Given the tone of your communication, it occurs to me that they might not have had a warrant. News flash for Time Warner: your firewall sucks! For a second I thought it might be profitable to sue the big behemoth. But at $525/hour to even consider the matter with my legal stud, I reconsidered.

Ok! Back to “lust makes the world go round.” So like all the other millennials, I arrange for different junk mail to go to the different accounts. Ya know…kind of sorting out the excrement so I know  which account has the dog crap…which has the horse shit and so on. You get the idea. Continue Reading

imgresYears ago when the Village Voice was the big deal in adult advertising, the paper had an ever-morphing policy as to how much the advertisers could and could not display in their ads. (Bear in mind that any 5 year old could wander to a street corner and pull the publication out of a red box free-of-charge to look at the pictures.) And of course, no bare breasts were allowed!

But a lot of the photos submitted to the Voice’s #1 advertising agency/supplier of adult ads and revenue (Somad) were bare-breasted! What to do! Drawing bras with a pen on the actual hard copy of the picture was one way. And painting or drawing a bra on the scan of the photo in photoshop was another I know I used! Continue Reading

The other day while “fine-dining” at the Catholic Worker, one of the volunteers who hails from the Finger Lakes region began talking about Rochester and Syracuse whereupon I informed him that in fact, I’d been to both and was quite familiar with the two cities.

Jack was curious as to how I’d come to be so well-acquainted with the locations and he got his answer: Road gigs in a show band. Piqued with interest, he went on to ask if I’d ever played with anybody he’d heard of. So I ran a partial laundry list which would probably impress any music fan aged 50 or so. It turns out Jack recognized none of the names. But the older volunteers certainly did. Continue Reading

Come the end of every year, I often ponder the events of the past 12 months in relation to my life as a whole. Have I pro – or regressed in effect. The year 2017 mostly saw me treading water. The little money I earned managed to cover my expenses. All that banking I used to do is but a distant memory. On the social front, I had no girlfriend when the year began. Nor do I have one now (don’t feel sad for me – I don’t necessarily want one). I could go on but allow me to get to the point. Continue Reading

Of all the terminal diseases you wouldn’t want to have, ALS is way up the list. One day you’re fine and then the next, something’s weird. And so it was with one of my old high school buddies with whom I reunite yearly. Fine one year…and then with a cane the next.

Victims of the dreaded affliction descend into total paralysis quickly. And usually, they die within a couple of years. Eddie lasted for quite a while. Maybe 5 or 6 years, thanks to wonderful health care and an amazingly devoted wife and family. Once he was completely bed-ridden, we’d take the LIRR out to the old town and party as Ed lay motionless with only his eyes left to communicate his approval. We acted like Ed was fine until that moment we left, when each would have his personal communion with the old boy. Continue Reading

Back in my musical days, guys who sight-read charts laid out for them by arrangers had two basic rules: First, when in doubt – lay the fuck out. And second, don’t try to play something you’re not sure you’ll be able to pull off. The idea behind both ensured that you didn’t overreach and end up making a glowing error which was either ducked in the mix or preserved for posterity on vinyl.

Apparently, football is a parallel world. I never made the connection until yesterday when I witnessed not one – but two players reach for a “lick” they couldn’t pull off with the end result that their teams lost both games. And both on prime time tv to the “reachers” ultimate embarrassment. Continue Reading

Forty years after a pop culture phenomenon has long since shone brightly and then fizzled out, few stand the test of time when resurrected. Yet SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, one of the worst movies ever, is being celebrated as we speak. As you can tell, the phoenix that rose from the disco din is hardly a moment for yours truly. Yet (again) here we are noting this pile of what we used to step in before the pooper scooper law.

For me, JOHN TRAVOLTA had to be the most repulsive film actor ever. Who could find him appealing? Answer: Everybody. Even my cousin June –  a Jewish American Princess of the first order who would never have been caught dead dating a greaser in high school.  Continue Reading

Like it or not, the truth is that many escorts suffer from a case of raging narcissism. They’re just too sexxxy for themselves. (And insufferable as well!) But then again…some are almost worthy of their self-absorption. They’re that hot! For me, when it comes to escorts, I’d rather adjourn with a full-of-herself beauty than a humble woman I don’t find physically attractive. I mean…that’s the whole idea of the one hour at a time deal. Once the fun is over, you don’t have to lie around pretending you have any interest in what she has to say or what interests her.

OK! Enough of that! I mention this today because last night, I found a photo on an Internet ad that is so narcissistic it almost strikes me as high art! It’s just the ultimate! Check it out! I don’t think she needs a man (or a woman for that matter). The girl has herself!

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There’s a prevailing opinion in (and out) of the escort business which says that all practitioners of the trade are damaged goods. It’s the only rational explanation for the way in which the girls choose to make their living. And mostly, I agree with the stereotype. I think I’ve dealt with enough escorts to be a leading authority on the subject.

Whatever…what I want to talk about today is the inherent double standard implied with this assumption. What about the consumers’ modus operandi is any less damaged than the girls’? And since when did anybody establish that it’s more undignified to sell “it” than it is to buy it? By me…the seesaw sits in limbo – and each side of the equation bears equal weight. The scales of justice need not be calibrated. They’re completely level! I’ll tell y’all a funny story from many years ago which illustrates my point. Continue Reading

Ah yes! It’s the end of the year legal roundup – at least in my world. And that means I field a request from my lawyers that I pay the outstanding bill. I know what you’re thinking: Don’t lawyers get paid a retainer up front so they’re never behind? The answer is yes – until you’ve given them so much fucking money that they cut you a break and once the original 50 k retainer is exhausted, will resort to normal billing. And so it is with yours truly. Continue Reading

I think it’s safe to say that at least by society’s standards, I march to the beat of a different drummer. Late 60’s, no ex-wives or kids, yet not gay? Token honky in numerous all black bands? Cum laude college graduate who drove a cab and/or sold ads to whores for over 30 years? Multi-millionaire who waits to buy stuff on sale and then gets a bunch of it to save a buck? Yup! I’m the odd man out all right. Of that I have little doubt. And so it follows that as a daily volunteer, I’m not exactly like my fellow do-gooders. If I didn’t know that before, I certainly found out yesterday.

Given the average “guest” at the Catholic Worker, you’d expect violent outbursts to be the norm rather than the exception. I mean…there are more than a few mentally ill attendees down at the soup kitchen. But ours is a mellow shithole – often because the volunteers treat the guests like human beings. Which apparently makes us unique in the field…at least according to guys I talk to who come from near and far in search of a decent meal (which mostly we don’t serve) and a little compassion. Continue Reading

On the recommendation of a former client (one of the very few I still speak with), I logged onto Netflix to watch a film titled THE IMMIGRANT. And it was worth the time and effort on three fronts.

The immigrant herself is a Polish girl who lands on Ellis Island and is immediately accosted by a pimp who cruises the territory looking for single women much like modern day dudes work Port Authority. I was not aware that 1920’s New York even hosted that sad reality. But with a little research, I came to discover that indeed, such a circumstance was not fiction. Who’d a thunk? But then again in colonial times, the Battery was a fancy promenade by day – and – a ho stroll at night. Apparently, men’s lust knows no time restraints. So that was the first interesting element for this viewer.

Now to number 2: At the end of the movie, the pimp (who has fallen for the immigrant he turned into his whore) confesses he’s a piece of shit manipulator. This particular climax didn’t meet with the distributor’s approval. And he wanted the ending changed before releasing it to the public. Guess who that distributor was! HARVEY WEINSTEIN! Old Harve didn’t want the male lead to break down and admit his sins. Funny thing about that! Continue Reading

For those unfamiliar, a book titled “THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR” was a big bestseller back in the ’90’s. While I knew of its existence and the general gist of the text, I had never actually read the book until just recently when one of the old neighborhood boys mentioned that he’s friendly with the author. So I logged onto nypl.org, reserved a copy and started reading today.

The general thrust of the work is to reveal that America’s millionaires are inconspicuous schmucks driving half-assed cars and living in modest housing – and not douchebags in Armani suits who are so busy spending and showing off that in fact, they have no wealth. And of course, in the process of reading I began measuring myself against all those millionaires next door. When it comes to saving versus spending (a crucial factor in becoming a millionaire), I am at the extreme end of the continuum. And I don’t think I have to tell y’all which end. Continue Reading