Jason referenced Brewster’s Millions in Leading Off this morning when talking about Harold Simmons’ secret will. If you’ve spent any time around me — and why haven’t you? — you know that the 1985 Richard Pryor comedy (a remake of the 1945 film of the same name, which was a remake of the 1921 film of the same name, which was an adaptation of the 1902 novel, also of the same name) is one of my go-to comedy crutches. So bringing it up in a way that allows me to legitimately write about it here is chum in the water for me. I am fairly certain Simmons is not my great-uncle (say, 90 percent sure), so this is theoretical. But this is how I would spend $30 million to inherit $300 million.
First off, like Monty Brewster, I would run for office. The mayor’s race is too far away and, besides, I’ve already done that. Let’s see, what’s coming up? Oh, Senator John Cornyn’s seat is up for grabs. There is a primary coming up on March 4. OK, I’m in. And even though I’m obviously more qualified than Democrat hopefuls Harry Kim, Kesha Rogers, Maxey Marie Scherr (fake name?), Michael “Fjet” Fjetland (super fake name), and David M. Alameel, and could very easily give Cornyn a run for his money, don’t worry. I’m in no danger of becoming a senator. Everyone knows I would end up screwing something in the end and more than likely wouldn’t even make the final ballot. Now that I think about it, though, I’m curious if Alameel is actually Simmons’ long-lost nephew and is already running his own Brewster’s-style scam. After all, he’s running for the Senate in a crowded field after finishing a distant fourth in the Democratic primary for Marc Veasey’s U.S. congressional seat in 2012, and spent $4.5 million for the privilege. Anyway.
The bulk of my campaign strategy and budget would go toward buying up all available airtime on NBC Channel 5 for the month, and showing nothing but various dance movies (the Step Up series, Breakin’ and Breakin’ 2, You Got Served (only the last 20 minutes), and so on), interspersed with brief introductions by me as well as short stump speeches regarding my three-prong platform: a city ordinance banning the wearing of flip-flops; another ordinance banning Radiohead songs at local bars; and better streets. (I know — I’m theoretically running for U.S. Senate, not mayor of Dallas or city council. But I’m not trying to win, and I live in Dallas, and I need the citizens of Dallas to know that some of their behavior is NOT OK.)
Also, like Monty Brewster, based on my confrontational style I could guarantee at least three to four of my opponents would sue me, and I would be generous with my out-of-court settlement. Not too generous. I play by the rules.
But that won’t take up all the money. Another smart way to get rid of a pile of cash is living accommodations. I don’t need a ton of space since it’s just me, my cat, and my son about half the time. So with that in mind, I guess I’ll probably just rent out the American Airlines Center. Couple of advantages there: it’s not too far from work and I can play basketball pretty much whenever I want. Also: I like nachos. Since it’s a really, really short-term lease, I expect the folks at the AAC are going to make me pay through the nose. That’s OK.
Another way to ditch some cash: a staff. I hate driving. For those 30 days, my driver will be Jason Statham. I’m sure he’ll be pricey. I also will need a bodyguard. Statham will man that job, too, partnered with MMA/Haywire star Gina Carano. Gina is from here so she may offer me a discount, which I will politely but firmly decline. I will also probably need an advisor. Probably not a bad idea to have two. Welcome to the team, Dana and Alyssa from the Old Monk.
A couple of other ideas: I’m going to need a list of every structure in town that is scheduled to be torn down within the month. Homes, high-rises, parking garages, disused convenience stores, whatever. I’m going to hire Banksy and JR to put something in or on all of them. I’m not going to buy any of the places (may even have to pay a few fines for trespassing), and I won’t own any of the pieces either, so we’re good there. And then I’m going to fund some hypotheticals, like Tim wearing a tux for a month but different, because you don’t do the same gag again. Just spitballing: Michael Mooney has to dress and, more important, live exactly like an officer in the U.S. Civil War. He can pick either side, but he has to wear the clothes, get around only by horse, live without electricity, etc.
That should get me pretty close to $30 million. Since I’m allowed to blow up to five percent by gambling, I’ll blow the rest on ostrich races.
