A Second Christmas

        The spread of wealth has always been an issue. In the past, we had kings and queens, lords and ladies, barons and baronesses, emperors and empresses, tzars and tzarinas—with servants tending to their every need—and, of course, self-serving servants trying to increase their odds of cash landing in their pockets. Today, we have the filthy rich, who own 30% of all wealth, and the rest of us, who are puppets to what they desire. What if we leveled the playing field?

        Imagine all of the riches in the whole country in one ginormous pile in, say, the middle of Kansas. Every Lamborghini key, the deed to someone’s crib in upstate Ohio, the hundred-twenty-thousand-dollar diamond ring from your grandma's wedding, and the silver chalice that has been in your family for the last five hundred years. All of it, in one big heap. On the word go, everyone would have a fair shot to carry away as much as they can and spend the next year living off it and preparing for next year’s “Second Christmas,” call it Xmas2.0.

        Xmas2.0 would fall on a sunny spring day. The previous month the government would have sent out “money sharks” to collect everything of value in your home to be added to the pile. A massive U-Haul van will be rented and the “sharks” will go from door to door throwing everything into the van. Some open land in Kansas will be fenced off and citizens from all over the country will pour in to try and get the best spot for when the gates drop. Military heads will gear up with primitive weapons (as their guns have value and are somewhere out there in the pile). Some nerd will strap stilts to his feet with the hope of running faster and getting to the pile before everyone else. Wheelbarrows and bags of all sizes will be in everyone’s hands to maximize carrying capacity. No security will be provided for Xmas2.0. Everyone will be psyched. Then at 11 am (to guarantee a good night sleep for all participants) the gates will drop. 

        It’s a free-for-all. You are lucky to be toward the front and away from the military heads. Senior citizens at the front are quickly trampled as the flood of greed washes over the crowd. The nerd on his stilts eats sh*t to your left and is also trampled. You get to the pile early and run up the mound of cash to get to a safe vantage point. You dig through the pile and find a few credit cards that you quickly stash in your backpack as you continue your search. A necklace with the word “BOOTY” in diamonds is thrown in your bag as well. Fist fights break out as looters take from others’ wheelbarrows and backpacks. Pure chaos. 

        With adrenaline pumping you see a file cabinet thirty feet away, a gold mine. These file cabinets are filled with deeds to random homes around the US. You quickly flip through the “M” section, praying you get lucky enough to find the “Musk” household. Just when you find it, your heart sinks. There are hundreds of people with the last name “Musk.” Which folder goes to Elon’s houses? In your frenzy, you grab the entire “M” folder. A military head sees the file cabinet as well, and as he races toward you barking and waving his sharpened stick, you run.

        At a safe distance from the pile, you evaluate your loot. The “BOOTY” chain is at the top of your bag and you sigh. I hope these diamonds are real. I need the cash. That’s when realization finally sinks in. I am now the proud owner of thousands of homes. The whole entire “M” folder is mine. You flip through seeing the names of some of the wealthiest people: “Mitchel…” “Monroe…” “McDonald…” hah! “Musk.” You post your new findings on Zillow and within minutes are pummeled by hundreds of DM’s from desperate house hunters.

        You have all the power. You jack up the prices of all of the houses selling them for two or three times what a fair value would be. People offer you bizarre trades: Thirty-five Ferrari keys and a painting by Picasso. Another DM reads: three Rolexes, nineteen Gucci bags, and the keys to a yacht. You bargain and squeeze every penny you can from these unlucky Xmas2.0 schmucks.

        You were fortunate enough this year to be in the top 1%. You live your lavish lifestyle until next year, when the “money sharks” come knocking on your door again. At least, you had your turn, Mr. Filthy Rich.