I Want to Help You Make Money!

This column dates back a few years. It was written for the April Fools' edition of the Advance-Titan, the college rag I contributed to. Devious and charismatic salesmen who peddle easy solutions to life's complex problems have always been funny to me. When a conservative newspaper on campus printed a story about an ambitious business major promoting his get-rich-quick scheme, complete with a picture of the student beaming prosperously, clad in a suit-and-tie, and brandishing a wad of cash, I couldn't resist the urge to spoof the charlatan. I suspected he was a colossal tool.

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Hi, I'm Nicholas Olig and nothing would give me greater pleasure than helping YOU make money with one of MY ideas. See that picture of me? I look pretty darn rich, don't I? Not to sound boastful about my affluence, but let's just say that pile of loose change in my hand contains more quarters than pennies. And you see that coupon? It's for $1 off a pack of cigarettes. Only a fool would poison his lungs at full-price!

If you're like me, you value the love and respect of your family and friends. Well, by employing my perfectly legal scheme, you'll have enough money to buy up every ounce of love and respect your family and friends have to offer. (Next week I'll tell you how to SELL the love and respect of your family and friends to cost-effective markets overseas. Prediction: You'll be rolling in the dough along with various attractive people that want to have sex with you!)

Now for the perfectly legal scheme: If your mom is anything like mine, she is a sweet and caring woman who knows very little about sports. Family ties aside, that lack of sports knowledge is begging to be exploited. Hey, moms are great, but if they don't want to be exploited by their own children they should follow sports as obsessively as their male offspring.

Recently I was faced with a fiscal dilemma. I couldn't afford to pay my lofty heating bill because I blew all my money on miniature pilot costumes for my five kittens so they could regale me with feline reenactments of scenes from "Top Gun." It's a predicament almost everyone can relate to.

At home over spring break, as I brooded over ESPN Classic on the TV, mom walked in the room, glanced at the screen and said, "Oh dear, It doesn't look good for the red-and-blue football men, does it? The blue-and-white squad is up by a lot of runs."

A light-bulb flashed atop my head, and that light-bulb was made out of solid gold. She had just used baseball terminology in reference to a football game and had no clue the game had already been decided over ten years ago. What an opportunity!

After much persistence and a teary-eyed declaration that she didn't love me because she wouldn't gamble with me, I coaxed her into a hundred-dollar wager. I bet her the Buffalo Bills would come back from a 35-3 deficit to defeat the staggering Houston Oilers in overtime, and I gave her 3:1 odds to sweeten the deal.

And when the final whistle blew, sure enough, the Bills prevailed in the 1993 AFC Championship Game, just like I remembered. I was one-hundred dollars richer and I had more money to spend on Top Gun kitty reenactments.

My luck didn't run out there. Next they aired game six of the National League Championship Series from 2003 between the Marlins and my beloved Cubs. I waited until the eight inning, then called her into the living room and bet her double-or-nothing the Cubs would squander their two-run lead due in large part from fan interference from a future dead man in the bleachers alongside the leftfield foul line. She totally fell for it!

Now, don't get me wrong. I love the Cubs, and my mom for that matter, but not as much as I love money and the kitty Top Gun re-enactments money affords.

And by the way, some of the perfectly legal money I earned from my sports-ignorant mom was donated to charity. The charity is called, "Electronics for the Homeless," and because of my donation, a labor-challenged Oshkosh man who resides in the Dumpster Hut outside of Fletcher Hall was blessed with a free blender.

So there you have it: Exploiting your mom's lack of sports knowledge can make you a lot of money, and it is also a noble cause. I'll see you next week, when my photo will showcase the awesome calf implants I just purchased with one of my many piles of cash!