The challenge:      Spend 30 million dollars in 30 days.
The catch:             After 30 days, you can have no assets.
The conditions:     You can't tell anyone what you're doing or why; you can't destroy anything of inherent value; you can't give it away; you can use only 5% for gambling and 5% for charity.

If you succeed, you get 300 million, but if you fail, you get nothing.


Brewster's Millions is a Richard Pryor vehicle from 1985 that holds up surprisingly well during more recent vehicles.  And it's one of my favorite early 80s films (along with Club Paradise and Trading Places).

But I keep thinking about what I would do in Brewster's situation.  Could I spend it?  I honestly have no idea; I don't even know if I'd try. 

I'm terrible with money.  I can't save to save my life and I like spending it.  But I don't know if the no assets clause is the one that would get me.  Rather, I think the being unable to tell anyone why I was burning money would be my undoing, much as it is Brewster's.  It's a weird thing, money.  We are conditioned not to talk about it in specifics, yet to be knowledgeable about it in generalities.  And then we have to spend it.  For our own good, if we listen to the politicians.

I don't know.  I have several half formed thoughts running around my head and I don't have the time to really break them all down.  But I keep thinking about the movie, and about money, and what I would do.

But I don't know.