For Misty, Brandon, and any other young shit that may happen by...

We go to school. We learn all kindsa good stuff to prepare us for the world. Square roots. Dangling participles. The Continents. The radius, the ulna. The value of X ‘if’ such-n-such happens. How to spell ‘constantinople’. Thirty days hath September, April, June and November, all the rest have 31 except the second month alone, which has 4 and 24 and Leap Year makes it
one day more!

All that and a dollar-fitty will get you a cup of coffee at Waffle House.

In one’s mid-twenties, it’s hard to picture yourself being 50, 60, 70. Hell, at 54 it’s hard to picture one’s self being 60, 70. GD time flies though. We rarely plan ahead. In 8th grade, I could givea shit about what my HS Graduation announcements looked like. When I first got married and amorously did the “oh-baby, oh-baby” – I coulda cared less about the curriculum of my first child to be’s 6th grade year school year.

Boom. You’re there. Whack. It happens. Ya age. INVESTMENT? Oh shit, I forgot. Can I be rich if I start now? NO VICTOR, YOU CAN’T. Can I “Back to the Future” back to age 9, whiffle ball in the front yard.? Sorry Charlie.

There was decent, not perfect, communication in my marriages. There wasa rule – if you really really really wanted the other’s attention, you were to grab the collars with both hands (gently) – and force the eyeballs to meet. Then, state your case, and the other HADTA listen.

Misty, Brandon, other young shits – please listen. Invest now. I’d trade my Senior year of basketball, the wonderful years I was in sales for Braniff, the “hell yeah” of starting (and making it) in my own business.. and lotsa crap if someone woulda just grabbed me by the collars back when I was more interested in where my (close ur ears) next piecea tail would come from – and told me: Invest now.

If you have a matching 401K, and if you invest $160.19 a month (hopefully matched by your employer).. and if the market history bears out in your lifetime.. you would be a millionaire at age 60. A millionaire. Didya hear that? (GD I HATE when old people tell me what to do.) Tough titties. Do it. Now. Not tomorrow, not on your next pay raise, not when your kids outta daycare, not when you’ve met someone, gotta 2nd income. Do it now. It’s the absolute best thing you could ever do for yourself.

And then. Keep your fucking hands off it. (I speak from experience, unfortunately.)

Oh the ‘life’ outside is frightful, But the fire is so delightful,And since we've no place to go,Let It grow! Let It grow! Let It grow!

A millionaire, in 35 years. And what’s even better, as you age and your salary goes up – you can even invest more. Age 30 happens. Age 40 happens. Age 60 happens. Too GD fast. Plan now, don’t say no. Just do it.

I hate you young punks who still have the opportunity to do it right. Two things. 1) Hopefully I’ll make it to heaven. 2) Hopefully in 35 years I’ll look down and see some ‘fat cats’ who did it.

Blessya all………. Love, Victurd.