Compared to Taylor Swift............................

I'm not doing so good.

Her net worth is estimated to be $1.1 billion. Mine is significantly less than that.

When she puts an album out, the buzz surrounding it dwarfs the reaction to any other world event, including William Shatner's 91st birthday.

When I sing, people spit at me.

Taylor Swift owns a Mercedes Maybach, an Audi R8, a Porsche 911 Turbo, a Ferrari 458 Italia, and about seven other cars.

I drive a 2020 Hyundai Elantra. Silver. It has 40,000 miles on it, and I have two or three more years of payments to go. A tree fell on it a couple of winters ago and it has been sad ever since.

Taylor Swift owns eight multimillion dollar homes in four states. I own one home in one state. I paid $165,000 for it. It's probably worth $140,000. But I do own it. No mortgage. So there's that. No fucking bank threatening me with execution if the mortgage falls behind.

Taylor Swift is 34 years old. I am 70. I'll be dead long before she is, and I will have tasted a lot less of life.

So I'm not doing so good compared to her.

BUT

I am doing measurably better compared to Previous Me.

Prevous Me was one sad dude. Unfulfilled, and unable to hide it (except in public, at work, with the family, with friends, with strangers, in restaurants, in bars - come to think of it, in every fucking situation except for being alone). I get props for being a world-class actor, but no $ to go along with that talent.

Lately I am buoyant. Got some pep in my step. And why not?

The universe has bestowed me with extraordinary gifts and my load has been lightened. I smile a lot, I laugh freely (instead of laughing the guilty laugh of the pretender).

One last frontier to cross.

Freedom. Still not retired. Still can't retire.

I have never committed myself to anything, so I became a red rubber ball bouncing from one thing to another, no rhyme, no reason. Because I think life as it is typically lived is a joke. Still do.

However the joke's on me. Life bites you if you don't bite it. Whaddya gonna do?

I start yet another menial job this weekend. Not because I have to, but because I am a lost soul, and because I feel I need to pad our bank account to protect us from the Evil Fuck who owns the property our house sits on. A Scumbag who raises HOA fees whenever the hell he feels like it, according to long term residents here.

I need peace of mind. I need to feel safe and secure. I am 70 fucking years old, for Christ sake.

So I'll do my part. Stay ahead of the greedy, heartless motherfucker financially, until a disgruntled renter chops his head off with a machete and displays it on a spike.

I know I am on the right track, though. I know I am, because I am making better decisions. I have Kit Kat mini frozen dairy dessert bars in the freezer, and Hostess Cupcakes in the cupboard. Do you really need more evidence than that?

It's a beautiful day. I don't have to work.

Think I'll enjoy myself.