I just read that by 2043 these clowns will be selling vacations on the moon. News articles like that are supposed to be feel-good, Star Trek holiday heartwarmers, but forgive me if I'm not laughing.
I know that it's a cliche to complain about the rich, but those selfish sons of bitches already have so much of the money that they're running out of things to do with it as we speak. Once you've got so many residences that you can't remember how many you own, and so many cars that you need a mechanical parking system in your residential garage, and a ranch somewhere so you can enjoy "nature," and a fleet of planes, well, what else is there to aspire to?
Don't the Walmart heirs already have like 29% of the money in the world?
Sure, I'm not talking about a huge number of people, but it's a growing number, not only in America and Europe, but also in Asia and South Asia and many countries that we used to call the Third World. And through the miracle of compound interest we'll be stuck with their billionaire grandchildren by 2043, plus a bunch of new model scumbag overachievers. They're the ones who will be sipping Grey Goose on the fucking moon.
Willard Romney III ("Trey Mitt") will be up there laying on a low-gravity bed, seriously considering sex with a robot, wondering if his wife has reached recycling age, looking out the window at the earth-rise, and figuring out ways to get rid of those pesky, ever multiplying poor people. He will not, I'll go out on a limb here, be using his precious time to formulate a plan for using his money to do good in the world.
Too cruel, you say? Blame it on Christmas. It's the time of excess.