How The Hook Was Set
As they waited for the event to start, Winston’s phone rang.
“Did they bite?” It was a colleague from a hopelessly mismanaged hedge fund on the west coast. A fellow outcast in the modern world of unemployable anti-capitalist twits.
“$8,600 riding on today’s fight.” Winston replied.
“No shit!”
“If you believe in women’s equality, you will support Mindy Anderson who has the best winning streak of any athlete in women’s athletics of all available competitors. I will humbly stake out the counter argument that Janice, a relative newcomer, will prevail merely because she was born genetically male.”
“My God! They went for it?”
“They’ve been trained from birth to avoid examining assumptions. It took less than an hour to get every one of them to place a bet. Shafting a gaggle of fools who can scarcely meet their monthly bills is child’s play. They’re a generation of morons.”
“You are a disaster to the trust funders.”
“It’s good to have a hobby.”
“And what charity have you chosen?”
“The Davy Crockett Guns for Orphans Fund.”
“Nice!”
“$8,600 will be sufficient to provide a twelve gauge shotgun, ammunition, and safety training for several dozen orphaned teenagers. I’m thinking that I’ll specify somewhere rural. I might have them send selfies to their donors. Maybe holding up a dead duck or something.”
“You’re a genius! So, what charity did they pick?”
“You know how they are. They can’t so much as buy pizza without resorting to parliamentary procedure and then protesting against whatever groupthink they just created. When I left they’d formed a charity selection panel and were sorting out committee assignments. A few were already triggered. Some were shouting, others were weeping.” He sighed, pondering the ironies of life within a society of morons. “They’re supposed to text the charity name in an hour. If young Mindy Anderson not only survives a bout with Janice but inexplicably wins I’ll send the donation to whatever money pit they specify.”
“Ain’t happening. Mindy’s totally doomed. You should see the online betting pools.”
“Speaking of doomed, how are your quarterly reports looking?”
“Not Good. Eugene is missing.”
“Snodavik? What happened?”
“Rumor has it he hooked up with a swami or something. Been missing for days. Well I’ve got to go, my car dealer is calling.”
“Buying an Audi?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess. Have fun picking out your new car.” Winston made a mental note to short sell his friend’s hedge fund. Without Snodavik, the company would be bankrupt within the year. Knowing his friend’s spending habits, he’d be sleeping in that car within six months.
Winston and his wife settled in watch the main event. They loved date night.
