I used to set aside fifteen percent of my paycheck for IRAs, savings accounts, and other get-rich-slow schemes. But why am I saving money for my life in the future when I should be spending money on important things, like incredibly sick Grave Digger gear that would make me the envy of everyone in my mandatory anger management meetings?
Besides getting spanked by Mrs. Claus, early retirement was my second wettest dream, but my golden years are too far away. Fuck it. I don’t care if I die early, as long as I’m buried in a Gold Digger-branded coffin that gets crushed by my favorite monster truck in front of my entire family. You can’t put a price on that. It’s a much better use for the money I was saving to buy a condo in Florida. The beaches are full of sharks and perverts, anyway.
I’m willing to work overtime until I’m 76 as long as I get to wear this officially licensed Monster Jam driving jacket to the office every day. I think I’m gonna blow it out and get the driving gloves, too. My 2013 Honda Accord has low mileage and top-of-the-line safety features, but there’s a mini-Digger yearning to be more than a fiscally responsible beige flag.
And with the power of my new monster truck merchandise, I will fill my suburban streets with badass wheelies synchronized to George Thorogood. Right now, I have no idea how to do that, but as soon as I figure out how to turn a four-door sedan with years worth of scentless pine tree air fresheners into an unholy visage that defiles Judeo-Christian sensibilities, I’ll learn how to do some badass wheelies. I’ll find another George Thorogood song, too because “Bad To the Bone” is Grave Digger’s thing and I don’t want to cross my hero.
The best part about this authentic driving helmet with built-in goggles that I’m also gonna buy is that there were only 650,000 of these made. In ten years, it’ll be a collector’s item! I’m pretty sure I’m also gonna get a year’s supply of this multi-ply Monster Jam toilet paper because it’s a shockingly good deal for bathroom supplies being sold next to an escalator in an NFL stadium. If they sold dick supplies and vegetables, I’d never shop at Hims or the grocery store again!
For all I know, I could die tomorrow, and I’m not willing to live another day without the greatest collection of Grave Digger merchandise imaginable. From now on, I’m scaling down retirement savings and scaling up Monster Energy Drink consumption and die-cast remote-controlled Grave Diggers. I’ll kiss being a young snowbird goodbye because I’ll never live long enough to care.