Things I can afford that the middle class cannot: rare books

Among the benefits of being me (and there are many) perhaps one of the nicest is my ability to purchase and enjoy rare books. Not that I expect the middle class to understand the enjoyment of thumbing through a first edition Dickens. And far be it from me to suggest that those simple fools could comprehend the subtleties of Tolstoy or the sardonic wit of Swift. After all, such intelligence and grace are surely lost on those who consider Patterson compelling literature.

Of course being a man of importance, rarely can I secret away the time to get lost in Middle Earth. And while the Walmartians of suburbia plug in their Walkmans to listen to the latest scourge to spill from the pedestrian mind of Grisham, I am able to enjoy my favorite tomes as read by my favorite actors. I wonder, have you ever heard the Iliad as interpreted by James Earl Jones? Or Huckleberry Finn dramatically read by Al Pacino? Of course you have not, because I, and I alone, commissioned them to read those masterpieces for my personal enjoyment. In fact, every book I own is accompanied by a dramatic reading by some of our time's most regarded thespians.

And that my friends - to quote my gardener - don't come cheap.