Things I can afford that the middle class cannot

As fuel and food prices continue to rise, there has been much made of the economic strain placed on the middle class. Apparently many are having to trim the fat, so to speak, from their budgets in order to afford these essential line items. Tragic, I know.

Obviously the Ross family doesn't have to worry about such trivial matters. Not only can I afford to fill up our fleet of luxury and performance automobiles with premium fuel, my exorbitant wealth allows me to fly my jet and pilot my boats with complete and total abandon. Have you ever filled up a Citation? Do you know how much diesel is required to run a 100' yacht? It cost me $37,000 just to take a cruise down the Intercostal. The amount I spend on fossil fuels each month is more that most middle-class Americans make in a year, or to put it in better perspective, more than 239 Kenyans will make in their lifetimes. $4.00 a gallon gas? Pocket change.

I can't imagine what it must be like to have to decide between filling up my 1998 Chrysler Caravan and buying the family name brand macaroni and cheese. Don't worry, yours truly isn't developing a new found sense of empathy, I can't imagine it because I've never been that poor. In all honesty I've never had to choose between anything, let alone commodities.

When you're in my tax bracket you can afford the finer things in life, groceries included. Mind you, I never go grocery shopping, but our chef only shops at the most exclusive gourmet boutiques. 93% of the country can't afford what we eat and most of the time we don't even finish. I'd say on any given night our housekeeper disposes of $50 to $100 worth of unfinished lobster tails, Kobe beef, truffles and other exorbitantly pricey imported foodstuffs.

The network talking heads can talk all they want about recession. I'm sure some of you would agree with their Chicken Little antics. However, you won't hear G. Glen subscribe to such nonsense. The fact of the matter is that the reason the middle class are in such dire straits is because the middle class cannot be trusted with money and are consumed by envy. Who wouldn't want to be me? What rational man wouldn't want to live like we wealthy do? I understand why they would feel that way. However, in their Quixotic quest to live like the other half they have maxed out their Sears cards and stretched themselves thinner than the hand spun silk negligee Mrs. Ross is so fond of.

The middle class has no one to blame but themselves, and if they could afford Quicken, I'd recommend they purchase it. That being said, perhaps riding their Wal*Mart bicycles to work and cutting back on the pot roasts will help these overweight gluttons lose a few dozen pounds. After all, you never see rich people competing on the Biggest Loser.

Ross' Rules: Work is Life

Lately much has been made of the need for a strong work-life balance. The theory goes that if one is able to spend time with their family or pursuing hobbies and activities outside of work, they will be a happier employee and thus they will be a better employee.

Rubbish.

A balanced life is like sensible democrat: they're both imaginary. The need for a balanced life is the excuse of those who hate their jobs, and such people belong in welfare lines; not walking the hallowed halls of Corporate America. It is an affront to the millions of dedicated men everywhere who sacrifice their happiness and that of their family's for the good of the company.

I want workaholics. I want relentless passion and single-minded focus. My employees must eat, breathe and bleed the mission statement. I don't care that little Billy has a t-ball game or the Paige has a dance recital. The nanny can tell you how it went when you see her. Nor do I care if you haven't seen your wife in weeks. She may hate you now, but trust me, she'll love the lifestyle your substantial compensation package affords her.

Workaholics are what make this country tick. They are the lubrication in the gears of the most potent economy on Earth. While one may lament the long hours and high stress, they can rest easy knowing they are providing their families with wonderful homes, luxurious cars, high priced nannies and the latest fashions. No the workaholic doesn't get to spend much time enjoying the benefits of such hard work, but they know that happiness will never satisfy them the way comraderie and a defined sense of purpose can. And they know that defeating their children in a high stakes game of Connect Four, while intially gratifying, will never earn them a promotion and corner office.

As I approach the twilight of my working years I cannot help but envy those just starting out. My work is what gives me life. It is what will give you life. Remember, you can always start a new family, but you only get one shot at your career. Enjoy it while you can.

Things I can afford that the middle class cannot

There are few sounds as seductive as the the deep throated purr of my Aston Martin Vanquish S. This 520 horse, 200 mile an hour piece of engineering perfection set me back over 300 grand. That's more than the this country's median home price. And while she'll punish you when you're bad, when you're good she'll satisfy in ways that would get you beheaded in most Middle Eastern nations.

Oh, did I mention I have two of these? One for each coast.

The Aston is my preferred supercar. Sporty yet refined. Exquisite yet unpretentious. Much like myself, I should say. Many of the nuevo riche insist on parading around in their gaudy Italian monstrosities clamoring for the world's attention. They of course get it, though only from middle class gawkers from Iowa or other sheltered locales. Those who know, like myself, openly scorn such trivial material displays. The Aston, on the other hand, oozes sophistication and class, much like its owner and her sultry curves, much like those of the woman undoubtedly riding in the vehicle's fine calf-skin leather passenger seat, demand your attention.

I understand how envy can posses those who do not. I see the looks on their defeated faces as I rush by, a sophisticated glorious comet of carbon and polished chrome. I imagine their self-loathing growing with each strained RPM of their Honda's meager engine. They get good gas mileage. They pollute far less. They are safe and practical. But you know what? Those things mean nothing if you have enough money.

Every so often, when I feel the need to connect with my employees, I take a drive down to the Saturn dealership and test drive a car. As I economically plod along I pretend I am like them. I tune into the local radio station and roll down my window and imagine myself commuting to work or home to greet my loving family. I think this is a nice daydream, until I realize that there is nothing nice about being poor.

Reader Question

Q: I was just wondering, where do you stand on recycling? Carbon offsets?

-Andrew B.

A. Well Andrew, as apparently it is Earth Day I will answer your question. Though I'll make it quick because I'm sure the hippies wouldn't appreciate the CO2 such long winded answers would emit.

This may surprise you, but I very much encourage my housekeeping staff to recycle. I myself cannot be bothered with the trivialities of separating my waste, but I see to it that they pick what can be recycled out of the trash and put it in the proper containers. As for carbon offsets, I think they are nothing but smoke and mirrors, but Mrs. Ross insists on purchasing them to mollify her conscious. We purchase ours from Africa. Seeing as they have no industry to produce pollutants, the offsets come cheap.