Yea and verily: I feel it is my duty to folks in general to
warn them of the dangers of financial planning. In complete
negation and contrast to the politically correct pundits of this age,
I will begin this epistle with the shouted warning that for your continued
good health, for the only hope you have to continue in happiness and
contentment, you should, you must, ignore all references to planning
your future in regard to finances.
That way lies madness.
We
all instinctively sense the basic truth that by the time you are able
to make ends meet, somebody goes and moves the ends. So why
should anything be different in the future? All you do by dabbling
in the black art of financial planning is to goad those evil sprites
to move the ends all the sooner.
Sadly, Your Humble Obedient
&tc. has made this discovery to his everlasting sorrow. Having managed to temporarily get ahead of the spriteful end-movers,
The Fabled PC and I decided that we would follow the wisdom de jure,
and figure out what to do with our money… that is to say, we would
(*shudder*) indulge in some financial planning. We decided to
ignore Waltie’s Maxim #322, to wit: There is absolutely no substitute
for a genuine lack of preparation. And so, we began to Plan.
Of
course, I wanted to buy a little airplane. I made all the logical
arguments for doing so. Unlike automobiles, they always
appreciate in value. Not only that, but it would keep
my license current. And we could use it to zoom all over the
country on a continual, wonderful vacation. And airplanes are
really cool and groovy. And we could always sell it and get
all our money back.
Then The Fabled PC stepped in like a dainty
red-haired version of Godzilla and crushed my fragile flowering plan
like it was a Tokyo shopping district.
“Where would you keep
it?”
“Um. Well, we’d have to keep it hangared. If
you don’t, the salt air plays hob with all the parts and stuff.”
“What
does a hangar cost? And don’t you have to have a plane inspected
or something each year?”
“Um. Well, there is the annual
inspection… and hangar space runs about $12 a day…”
When she
found out what the annual inspection costs (even providing the inspector
didn’t find anything wrong), and the cost of a pint of aviation fuel,
my airplane flew out the window.
Knowing that indecision is the
key to flexibility, we went to Plan B.
As I have occasionally
hinted at in this august magazine in the past, I like to go hunting. The major problem with this obsession is that one must have a place
in which to do this thing. Therefore, I usually wind up going
to places like Virginia or Colorado, paying exorbitant fees to be
allowed to suffer in misery on someone else’s property.
Aha! I could solve that problem, and safeguard our nest egg at the same
time! We could buy a big bunch of land. Each year there’s
more people, but the amount of land seems to stay relatively constant. Ergo, if we bought, say, 600 acres or so, we would always be able
to get our money back – and it would doubtless appreciate wonderfully. And I would have a place to go hunting where I wouldn’t have to be
looking over my shoulder to see if I was going to be arrested for
trespassing or something.
“But we need a new roof on the house.” The Fabled PC’s voice reached me faintly as I sat in the clouds, dreaming
of murdering Bambi on my own semi-endless stretch of wilderness.
“Well,
we can do that, too.”
“And our car is over ten years old.”
“So
we’ll put some aside for a new car.”
“What does 600 acres of
land cost?”
“EEK.”
Looking over the amount of money we had,
and comparing it to what my most modest future plans required, I realized
that we had a fundamental problem. For I have seen the truth,
and it makes no sense.
But the Plan, which had now turned into
my own personal Frankenstein monster, had taken on a life of its own. I decided that the facts, while interesting, were irrelevant. I was determined to have a resounding financial plan… one that filled
all my hopes and dreams. I’d get the plane, park it on the 600
acres, and go hunting. Meanwhile, The Fabled PC could use the
rest of the money to make brilliant stock purchases.
Unfortunately,
by the time we put a new roof on, and pay for a replacement automobile
(I hate to drive), it seems that we would be just about out of money.
It occurred to me at this point that the evil sprites had gone and moved the ends on me again. There is no escaping the fact that things are more like they are today than they ever were before.
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