Times are tough and money is as short as George W. Bush’s
attention span. So, what do we do? We sell stuff to those non-less fortunate
than we are. Let’s face it… when the “have-nots” have a little, and the “have-lots”
want more, they buy stuff from the “have-nots” at a reduced rate. That and
prostitution keeps Craig’s List going.
So what do we sell? Do we sell our stuff that it took years
and years of mindless impulse buying to accumulate? No. I like my furniture. I
like my clothes. I like my collection of X-Files memorabilia that is absolutely
worth nothing. Some day, I plan to hand it down to my grandchildren who will
probably have to burn it for heat.
I could sell my plasma. I have an ample supply and as long
as I’m not dead, my body will keep making more. From what I understand, a lot
of people are doing that now since plasma-screen TVs have become much more
popular than LCD.
After considerable thought, selling my plasma was a little
too generic for me. So here’s a list of things I tried to sell:
1. My Hair
I don’t have much left. When I get it cut short, my receding
hairline and bald spot make me look like a poodle with mange. Comb-overs are a
hassle. No matter how much gel or goop I put on my head, it will always
dislodge and stick straight up. Not a good thing during springtime when birds
are in mating season. Last year, I was dive-bombed by a sparrow that thought I
was a rival.
My Trip to the Wig Shop
Me: I want to sell my hair so you can make it into a wig.
Wig-woman: It’s got gray in it. Nobody wants a gray wig. You
ever see Dolly Pardon or Donald Trump with a gray wig?
Me: I thought Trump just had a comb-over?
Wig-woman: Think again.
Me: Can’t you just dye it?
Wig-woman: Why don’t you dye it red and try your luck
tomorrow. No guarantees.
Me: But if you don’t buy my hair, I’ll look like a balding
clown.
Wig-woman: Funny, that's the same thing I thought when you walked in. Now, get outta
here. You’re scaring off my customers.
2. My sperm
No need to elaborate on this. I’m a guy. I have sperm. Why
not make some money with it.
My Trip to the Sperm Bank
Me: I want to sell my sperm so you can make it into a person.
Sperm-woman: You don’t fit our profile.
Me: What’s your profile?
Sperm-woman: Six-four… Blue eyes… Ten percent body fat… and
a college degree.
Me: How do you know I don’t have a college degree?
Sperm-woman: I saw your car.
Me: I think you’ve been watching too many soap operas.
Sperm-whale: I think if you don’t get outta here, I’m
calling the cops. You’re scaring away my customers.
3. My Body
I mentioned prostitution earlier. How about the world’s
oldest profession?
My Trip to an Out-of-the-way, Seedy, Low-lit Motel Lounge
Me: I want to sell you my body so you can make passionate
love to it. Why are you laughing? That wasn’t a joke. Really, it’s not that
funny!
Second Trip to an Out-of-the-way, Seedy, Low-lit Motel Lounge
Me: I want to sell you my body so you can—
Potential Jane: How much?
Me: Uh… what do you think is fair?
Potential Jane: For you… $5.00.
Me: Wow! I can buy a gallon of gas and a beef jerky. You
gotta deal. Hey, don’t you think we should save the handcuffs for later?
Officer Jane: Not if you’re being arrested for solicitation.
4. Pyramids
Maybe I should try to sell something that’s not in any way
related to my body or illegal in forty-eight states.
My Trip Around the Neighborhood
Neighbor: Hello?
Me: I want to sell you some Amway so you can make lots of
money with it.
Neighbor’s door: SLAM!
That endeavor led me to my next item up for sale.
5. A Punch In The Face
Nobody likes pyramid schemes, and even though they make a
great concrete cleaner, nobody likes Amway anymore. I had better luck going
door to door asking people if they would pay a dollar to punch me in the face.
Turns out there are PLENTY of people in my neighborhood who wanted to punch me
in the face. But, the more money I made, the more dental work I needed. And who
has the money for a high-dollar deductible these days? So, I’m back where I
started.
I guess I’ll just stick to selling my plasma. I hear it’s
nice and they give you cookies and orange juice afterwards. But I don’t think I
can ever watch my TV the same way again.