It’s always some rich bastard who says, “Money can’t buy happiness.” Some jerk-off who doesn’t just live in a house but in a compound that can’t be reached at all except by helicopter or jetpack. If money can’t buy happiness, you schmuck, then how about forklifting a heap of the stuff over to people who would consider any roof at all “happiness”.
I can’t stand when I see a guy walking down the street (hold on, let me finish the sentence) wearing sneakers with his suit. I’m not talking about guys like my darling “Poppop”, Isaac, who sometimes wore them instead of his “nice pair of Florsheims”, but business guys, the kind some people (not I) call “suits”. It’s bad enough when men wear galoshes (I would say “rubbers”, but it would make me snicker like the little boy I am), but at least that makes a smidgeon of sense (even if it makes me sick when I see it). But the sneakers/suit thing? No.
When I star in my next sitcom, I want to be the one who has the “And Starring …” position at the end of the opening credits. You know, the way Tom Bosley did in the first few seasons of Happy Days before he was bumped by that Fonzie fella.