Orange Rhymes With: Sound Investments for unsound people

Illustration by Casey Kleeb
Illustration by Casey Kleeb

The horrors of Valentine’s Day have thankfully come to a close, and I’ve finally stopped screeching a terrifying rendition of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated.” Now I can now focus on the important things.

I’d like to talk about a subject that is very near and dear to me: making money. Specifically, me making money.

See, I’m quite fond of money. It finances all my outdoor adventures, buys me gear I don’t really need and presents a sense of validation rarely found outside of therapy. So in an effort to start growing my personal wealth, which now consists of two baseball cards, an old shoe and half a sandwich, I’ve decided to compile a list of all my magnificent-ish business ideas.

First of all, I’ve decided to barge my way into the lucrative board game market. Not since the Great Mousetrap Scandal of ’98 has the world seen a great deal of innovation in the world of cardboard-based entertainment, and I intend to profit from that. So it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the next revolution of frustrated family disputes — communist Monopoly!

Entitled “For the Good of the State,” each space represents a famous Marxist location. For example, Baltic Avenue becomes Pyongyang, St. James Place becomes Havana and the prestigious Boardwalk is redesigned as the icy, scenic Moscow!

While there are railroads on the board, three of them broke down years ago and the remaining one suffers from absurdly long lines. Any player who has the misfortune of landing in jail must spend the rest of the game as a political prisoner, and all players must use identical game pieces to promote equality. Additionally, because no one can own property, all profits are given to the state to be redistributed equally amongst players upon completion, so everybody wins!

Potential investors may contact me via email to help get this project off the ground and share in the new world of dice-propelled political satire.

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Next, I’d like to completely revamp the current format of “Survivor” and sell it back to CBS for a severe markup. I’ll begin the show as always, with mildly unstable old men, shrill naive women in their twenties and whatever token minority happens to be in vogue that season — but soon everything will begin to change.

Suddenly host Jeff will disappear and stop giving the contestants challenges, all tribal councils will cease and the cameramen start acting edgy. Then, one by one, the camera crew goes missing in the night and broken equipment is found strewn across the jungle. As filming continues from tiny cameras hidden within the trees, we begin to sow seeds of doubt among the participants as our studio plant begins to sabotage their camp. Just as they begin to get the hang of real survival, we’ll begin detonating palm trees with dynamite and create the false illusion of a smoke monster in the distance.
Provided we all haven’t been arrested, on day 23 we release the polar bears. The first contestant to piece together the scattered “Lost” references and break into the hatch we’ve built in the center of the island wins the million dollars. And for those of you looking for a financially sound investment, I’m already projecting record profits for this particular venture.
Of course, these aren’t my only ideas for business opportunities. Just the other day, I perfected the bacon, hash brown and egg sandwich. I also mastered the art of cooking steak on a homebuilt stovetop grill made entirely of coat hangers. The point is, I’m a gold mine of good ideas, and not all of them even have to do with finding better ways to eat meat!
But, considering that some of my other plans resulted in melting my Wi-Fi router to a desk, scorching a large portion of hair off my arm and getting banned from the local Best Buy, I think I’ll keep my best ideas under wraps for a bit longer.

Besides, I have to give potential investors time to gather their hard-earned funds so I can buy a new two-man tent. “Investments” can be made by anonymously sliding money under my apartment door and expecting to never see it again.

That tent is not going to buy itself.