I Want Ashley Olson's Purse


I have realized that all of my many financial woes can be solved by sporting a purse.

Now before you go off half-cocked, screaming that I've finally come out of the closet please read this entire post first. Better yet, read the link to get a handle on what I'm talking about:


On my AM radio gig I often refer to myself as the "Charlemagne of Stupid," chiefly because I have made every stupid mistake a man can make in his life and continue to do so. I was taught as a youngster to face up to my responsibilities so you'll hear no whining about the non-balance of my bank account here, but suffice it to say that a perfect storm of accident, circumstance and stupidity have brought me to my current unfortunate state. It wasn't always that way in my life, but that was then, this is now.

Like a lot of people in the financial hurricane I spend countless hours daydreaming about scenarios that would spirit me out of the storm. It would take about 20 grand right now to wipe my slate clean. Loose change to Bill Gates, but a monetary Matterhorn to guys like me. A lot of my fantasies are centered on things like winning the lottery, or finding a bundle of anonymous cash lying around on a street somewhere. Not exactly a sound financial strategy but hell, when you have nothing you tend to dream about everything. And I have learned the painful lesson that a fantasy financial windfall isn't going to come with a lucky strike at a slot machine, a lottery ticket or a toss of the dice at a crap table. That philosophy has only put me deeper in the hole. Gambling is a recreational pursuit, not a device to build a nest egg. Then again you know that already, don't you?

So imagine my surprise as I counted the pennies in my pocket until the next payday and read the story about Ashley Olson's purse. You remember her, don't you? She and her sister, Mary-Kate, were toddler stars on a TV show called "Full House" back in the 1980s-90s. My kids loved it, and I didn't mind them watching it because it offered tepid family style plots and little life's lessons that were perfectly tailored for a house full of children under the age of 10. Mary-Kate and Ashley grew up to be beautiful young ladies, made a bunch of forgettable films that grossed gazillions at the box office and parlayed their cash into capital "B" billions. Smart girls. The opposite of yours truly. They have the cash to indulge their wildest fantasies, and sometimes do. I don't begrudge them their dollars. I don't want to pry their bank accounts out of their cold, dead hands and redistribute their wealth to the needy (read "lazy"). No, I have much more pedestrian desires.

I want Ashley Olson's purse. It's not a purse, really. At least according to the article. They're calling it a backpack, but it looks more like a purse to me. Whatever it is, she paid $39k for this alligator-skin sack, and I want it. Some swamp-dwelling throwback to the Jurassic sacrificed its life so this pampered cinema brat can tool around town with this overpriced reptilian pelt swinging from her shoulder? It just ain't right.

So Ashley, if you read this post please consider this: your purse, I mean backpack, can save a poor sinner and right a life tilting toward financial Armageddon.  It would be the Christian thing to do. I'll even apologize for the "pampered cinema brat" reference above. To you it's fashion, to me it's salvation. Think about it.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a slot machine at the local casino that I know is ready to hit. I just hope I get there in time.

Lenny Palmer 7/28/2011


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