Spring Break
Gold digging easier than a real career
Column: Nuke the Whales
Zach Parks
Issue date: 10/5/04 Section: OpEd Page
Over three years have passed since I formally declared a two-pronged war against my liver and my parent's bank account and I find that I am coming ever closer to realizing that I probably won't have a job when I graduate. And when I say "probably" I mean that I have a better chance of being invited to a sleepover at Neverland Ranch than actually finding a job.Perhaps I'm looking in all the wrong places. Perhaps I don't need a job. Perhaps I simply need to fall bass akwards into money. Thus as of right now, during my first semester of my final year of college, I am dropping my major to pursue my Mrs. Degree.Rather than earn legitimate money as a panhandling hobo, I could explore a career in professional gold digging. I've given this matter a considerable amount of thought and my options are endless. I could start with Paris Hilton. I admire her moral values. Plus, like a gas station toilet, she's dirty. Plus, how many men can claim that their wife looks like a space alien with a Mystic Tan? But since she only hangs out with other famous people I don't stand a chance.However perhaps I could pursue a slightly less famous decrepitly ugly hotel heiress, preferably one with little or no self-esteem. I've searched phone books for people named "Paris Best Western, Paris Motel 6, and Paris Budget Lodge." So far no luck.Billy Joel would be out of the question. First off, his head looks like a jack-o-lantern carved by an inbred four-year-old in the dark. Secondly he's already married. Third, the primary quality I look for in a woman is not having a penis.There's always Oprah. If I were given the choice between marrying Oprah or drinking a gallon of lead paint, then I would definitely choose Oprah. The woman buys cars for strangers. This proves that she's nice. She also has ice cream from Cincinnati flown to her in Chicago. This proves that she's an idiot. And you can always depend on the kindness of nice idiots.Anna Nicole Smith would be another obvious choice. I already have a lot of qualities that her old husband didn't have, like breathing without assistance. Also women love it when guys don't require a colostomy bag. So there's another plus. While she is busy pouring milk over Lucky Charms I would spend my entire day lounging at our beautiful estate (note: when I say "Lucky Charms" I actually mean "Percocet," and when I say "milk," I actually mean "more Percocet").Then again the whole gold digging idea might not pan out. I'm neither rich nor famous and those tend to be the qualities these people look for. Plus it seems like it would be a pretty difficult full time job considering that I was fired from Home Depot for being too inept to push carts around. I'm also starting to have second thoughts about taking someone's money. Perhaps I have a conscience after all, but mooching off someone to support myself is a little like masturbating with the wrong hand - it just doesn't feel right.
