This blog is dedicated to Brandon Ezell – an unlikely hero.

Here’s my ideal job: no job.

I don’t care if future or current employers see this. I don’t think this reflects badly on me. I think it’s only natural. I think it’s unnatural to want to work. I’ve worked for a handful of large companies and a few years back in a performance review I was asked “How do like your work?” And I said, “I honestly don’t want to work.”  I think anyone who disagrees is (a) pretending (b) poor or (c) my archnemesis.

First, let’s define work in the context of jobs. According to Parmele’s Dictionary 3^rd ed. work is defined as: the act of being paid money in exchange for labor. Yes, it’s eerily similar to Parmele’s definition of a hooker. Basically, even if you work in a cubicle you’re a prostitute. Your skills, however, don’t include pole dancing, tying cherries with your tongue or happy endings. Your pimp may not have a fuzzy purple hat, but he probably has a few purple ties.

Wow that reminds me of a joke my girlfriend told me: A boy and his father were in a car accident. The son was taken to one hospital and the father was taken to another. When the boy arrived at the hospital, the surgeon took one look at him and said “I can’t operate on this boy, he is my son”. How is this possible?

Answer at the end.

So, I’ve had a few discussions lately with people on what they would do with $100 million dollars. For myself, I would totally ditch you all. I would quit school, my job and stop posting this blog. I would buy an island. On this island there would be a magical box, Polar bears, pirate ships, a button to push every 108 minutes and once in awhile I would crash on plane onto it just to mess with the survivors.

Other people have said they would buy a lot of lavish stuff, but eventually go back to work – on their own terms. I don’t understand that. They generally feel as though work gives them a sense of purpose. But that’s not innate. Nobody is born wanting to work. It’s something that is drilled into us as we grow up. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Timmy?” Timmy’s answer is usually a police man or doctor. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s natural to want to protect or help other people. The problem of course is Timmy, in all likelihood is going to be an accountant. If you’re an accountant don’t read the next paragraph.

Accountants are pointless. Accountants were hired by business moguls (the Haves) to count the money they made from the Have-Nots. Accountancy went from simple counting (1, 2, 3…) to ridiculously complicated math based on formulas and words accountants made up like depreciation and dividend yield. I would go as far to say as 95% of all work is unnecessary and created to enslave us.

Something I’ll explore in the future is: what if money didn’t exist?

And the answer to the joke above is: the surgeon is the boy’s mother. (Over my shoulder my girlfriend is pointing out that it’s a “scenario” designed to show our sexist culture and not a joke. But it’s funny – therefore a joke according to Parmele’s Dictionary 3^rd ed.)

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