It is time for me to get rich. Long enough have I wallowed about, toeing the line of abject poverty when I could be tap dancing into the lap of luxury. Why shouldn’t I be rich? I look nice in good clothes, have expensive tastes in shoes, and how else will I afford gas for my stretch Hummer? Lucky for me I’ve finally figured out how to do it. Not by working hard. Not by playing the lottery. Not even by trying to convince Nigerian email scammers that I am an American prince who has been overthrown by his people and now needs to transfer $32 million from a seed bank in Kansas to my newly adopted home in Botswana. (That one had real potential!)