Why VC Rich People Are Bad at Being Rich

Holly Wood really is the brightest flame on Medium right now. It’s time some average white guy stepped in and tried to steal some of her sunshine, so here I am. How can I get a piece of this? Well, I’ll start by just “curating” some of the fun for you (which you could bypass by following her on Medium or Twitter, but this is really better because I can filter out the posts where she talks about her period [P.S. she never talks about her period]):

That post prompted Breitbart to issue the bat-shit crazy signal, and the orc army dutifully marshaled through the Black Gate and into the Blogosphere.

If you read the comments of the comments to that post you will find some guys who pissed in the kiddie pool of stupidity and are still telling their collective Internet mommies that they don’t need to go to the bathroom.

How the Rich are Supposed to Act

Now that I have, hopefully, garnered some clicks on the back of Holly Wood’s funny and courageous goodness, I would like to explain to the VC nouveau riche that, now that they are rich, they should learn how to be properly rich so that maybe their… grandchildren?… won’t be thought of as barbarians by real rich people.

Start Hiding the Fact That You Are Rich

You don’t have to deny that you are rich, you just stop ever talking about it. One of the tweets in the above article has Vivek Wadhwa asking, “why is it bad to be rich?” Which is like hanging a Japanese flashing light sign that says “I AM RICH” around your neck. Poor people never ask that question. Look, when you are rich you live in a fundamentally different world. A world that other people can’t experience and won’t understand. Talking about the world they don’t understand doesn’t help their understanding, it just makes them think that maybe it’s time for a revolution. Revolution is something you want to avoid, because in a revolution it doesn’t matter if you think you earned your money or not, you’re going up against the wall, and even if you get away you’re going to live a sad life and every decade a reporter is going to ask you what your regrets are:

So, in the modern parlance, you want to keep all the money on the “down low”. It will take a generation or two to really learn how to do this. You start by referring to the Gulfstream as a “plane”, the summer house as a “cottage”, your maids as “help”, etc., etc. You may wonder, “How will I know who is rich if nobody SAYS how rich they are?” That can be difficult. It takes generations. Here is something that someone might say:

Maybe Rich Guy: Yes, yes. *coughs a bit*. I like to garden.

Gutbloom: Really? Do you have a specialty? (this is Gutbloom probing. Really rich people like to pride themselves on being “in the dirt” gardeners, not someone who just instructs hired workers to “landscape” and, as such, they have to know the ins and outs of gardening to have chops. You can’t rise to prominence in the Garden Club of America unless you know what you are doing. Knowing what you are doing in the garden takes time. Time takes MONEY.)

Maybe Rich Guy: Yes, yes. I have a rose garden. I grow hybrid-teas.

Gutbloom: Oh, roses are major league (I’m blowing smoke up his ass because I think I already have my answer). What do you do for climate control? (this is ugly, I’m basically asking him if he has a sunken garden or a boxwood hedge. I can do this without humiliating myself because I’m not rich).

Not Rich Guy: It has a hemlock hedge around it.

Gutbloom: Hemlock, not yew?

Humiliated Rich Guy: No, not yew.

Don’t Talk About Your Chauvinism Publicly, That’s What Private Clubs Are For!

I understand that Mr. Graham rose to prominence in part because of his blogging, but now that he is rich he should realize that real, multi-generational wealth and celebrity don’t mix well. As with organized crime, denying the existence of super wealth is job one. So what is a rich person to do? Can they never talk about their lives? Of course they can: WITH THEIR OWN KIND. That’s why you have private clubs, and the trick of private clubs is that you have to have enough people in the private club to make it fun. To have enough people you have to have people to run it; be president, sit on the board, oversee the “field day” races, etc., which means that you have to let in some awful, semi-rich people who are doers and joiners so that the old guard can sit and fart in the library chairs. That’s who you talk to. The people you know you can trust, and even then you don’t say too much. You talk in code. Haven’t these VC bois ever read a Dicken’s novel?

So, you want to talk about Holly Wood? This is how it would go down at the Mushamaguntic Men’s Club.

Humiliated VC Blogger-Man: *settling into the leather farting couch across from Gutbloom* What a week!

Gutbloom: *Pulls down newspaper* Please turn off your phone and put it away. *Points to discrete, hand painted and highly varnished sign that reads “No Devices In the Men’s Bar”*

Humiliated VC Blogger-Man: Oh, sorry.

Gutbloom: *snaps paper back up*

Humiliated VC Blogger-Man: Did you see this mess about me on Twitter?

Gutbloom: *through the raised newspaper* Looks like you stepped in it.

Humiliated VC Blogger-Man: That Holly Wood, what a bitch, right?

Gutbloom: *lowers newspaper so he can look blogger man in the eye* I couldn’t agree more.** Where is that Sadie girl? We need more peanuts.

END OF CONVERSATION

**I don’t really agree, of course, I just need to kiss this guy’s ass because I’ve run through most of the family money and want him to buy one of the “financial instruments” that my banker gives me a 7% finder’s fee on.

It causes me great stress that the rich don’t know how to be rich. I know how to be rich, but, you see, I am not, and Powerball can’t save me. Even if I got 800 million dollars tomorrow, I can’t grow a big enough boxwood hedge or elm alee in the time I have left on this planet to slake my thirst, and buying them just won’t YEW, so it is over for me. If the rich will stop upsetting me by going back to being properly rich, I can go back to being “middle class”, which means keeping my foot on the neck of the actual poors so they don’t revolt. It’s not as good as being rich, but, I’m not going to lie, it beats being poor, but you’ll never hear me say that.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.