“Rich People Only Got Four Ways They Can Go, Man”

Here’s an article from The New Yorker called “How To Hire A Pop Star For Your Private Party,” which is oddly very much about Flo Rida.

Basically the crux of the article is that, 20 years ago, “privates” and “corporate gigs” were thought of as lame things that over-the-hill acts did. Now everyone is chasing them, apparently even Beyonce getting $24M from Dubai for one. (But hey, Taylor Swift still won’t do them, that we know of.)

When you get further down into this article, 11-day Trump White House star Anthony Scaramucci — “The Mooch” — makes a random appearance, talking to the reporter from a car in midtown Manhattan traffic. The Mooch, ye see, was a hedge-fund manager who hosted a business conference called SALT. To attract attention to the conference, he booked private gigs by Maroon 5, Lenny Kravitz, Will.i.am, Duran Duran, the Chainsmokers, and others who might please a roomful of mostly middle-aged finance types.

Here’s what The Mooch says about “options” for rich people:

“We’re in love with fame,” he said. “Our entire society is addicted to it.” The addiction extends to the wealthiest among us, he went on. “But let me give you the bad news for rich people: They can only go four places. They can go into the art world, or private aircraft and yachting, or charity — naming buildings and hospitals after themselves. Or they can go into experiential.” He adopted the voice of a big spender: “ ‘I’m super loaded! I have a Rolls-Royce!’ Well, fuck that. There’s ten thousand of them. But if I tell you, ‘You are one of a kind!,’ now you’re special.” As we spoke, he was stuck in midtown traffic, which occasioned a mood of patient contemplation. “You’ve got to think about it as a pyramid,” he said. “The widest part is eating at McDonald’s. The narrowest part is ‘I paid two hundred million for the Basquiat.’ Because that’s one of a kind. I’m taking a piece of the immortality that artist created, and I’m owning it. Freud said we’re ultimately hysterical because of our own demise. This is why we do these things. I have to prove that I’m really living.” He paused to let that sink in, and then returned to the voice of the big spender: “So Andrea Bocelli is going to sing at my daughter’s event.”

Truly f*cking inspiring. See also: the upper middle class is ostensibly a prison.

I laughed at least three times within that paragraph.

I’m still not sure those are the only four options for rich people, but it’s a concise summary, no?