National Nitwit

A National Nitwit Guest Editorial
By Mack Holmes, Toledo Sanitation Worker

Holmes: Dreaming of Riches, Stinking of Refuse

You ever see those cable shows where they tour extravagant mansions of the zany rich, what with their gold plated showers, flat screen TVs in their closets, and entire rooms for their cats? Let me tell ya, bub: I’d make a great eccentric millionaire.

All I need to do is invent some ridiculous product like an electric corkscrew and I’d be on easy street. But I wouldn’t just be your regular breed of millionaire. No sir. I’d wear flip-flops all year long, throw my underwear out after one use, and pay for my groceries in Susan B. Anthony dollars.

And speaking of buying shit: look out, Jack. I’d adopt an iguana and name him Charlie Buttfucker so the neighborhood kids could run around saying “let me pet that buttfucker!” I’d also install a urinal in my bedroom so I don’t have to trip over Maggie’s goddamn heels every time I need to piss at 3 a.m. And you know those little robotic vacuums? I’d have fifteen, so when I got bored I could walk around the house all day crumbling saltines.

Then they could put me on one of them crib shows. All of America could see my three hundred pairs of plaid slacks, my collection of stegosaurus fossils, my bronze cast of Angelina Jolie’s boobs, and my frozen blood samples from every Cleveland Brown dating back to 1994.

Partner, I’d make a great eccentric millionaire. Just don’t tell anybody about that electric corkscrew—my patent’s pending.