If I were filthy rich...

 If I were filthy rich I know one thing I’d do. I was reminded of it this morning. 

Of course I could do as others have done:

• I could buy a huge yacht like Onassis’s and marry a beautiful widow, but I get seasick and I have a beautiful wife already.
• I could greatly enhance my collection of political buttons but at 78 I’ve already filled my upstairs and Sheila won’t let me bring them downstairs. Also I’m in a quandary over what in the world I can do with those I have since my heirs ain’t interested.
• I could buy an absurd mansion like Osteen’s or a ridiculous jet like those other “evangelists” have done but I’m no preacher and I like my money pit and I am terrified enough just flying Delta.
• I could buy a president like Musk or Putin did, but the only currently available president has traded hands so many times he’s used goods.

So here’s one thing that would make me a happy billionaire: I could buy the best cushiest socks available by the truckload. I’d wear each pair once then have my housekeepers wash them and donate them to homeless shelters all over the country.

Last week I bought a brand new package of six pairs of good socks. For the last several days I have, after my morning shower, donned a spanking new fresh pair of cushy socks. Ahhhh. What a sensual delight!