The Contract

All bets are off.

Of course, I will continue to teach millions how to build their personal vocabulary. That is part of me.

However, in today's mail I received a contract for services rendered from 2015 (tomorrow) until 2039 or the year of my death.

I found that most curious since it would suppose that I will live to 90 and how can anyone predict that.

The sum of money was not clear and I was told that would be resolved soon. I was told a million dollars would be posted to my account, should I agree to terms by the time the ball dropped in NYC tonight.

Curiously, one of the terms was that I complete cataract surgery within the next year. I had made an appointment for next Monday, January 5 with an ophthalmologist. I had decided to write about it when Lindsey and I had a conversation on my birthday about the difference between an eye examiner and a specialist in diseases of the eyes.

I referred the to those who have no knowledge of doctor specialties and I called them morons. Are you a moron?

If you are, we might meet in 2015. At least this seems to be the point of this unique contract.

I can't get into all of the conditions of this agreement. It is too inclusive. However, I can see it will demand my full writing attention and I am not sure I can live with that. However, I can live with a million dollars in my account. What freedom that would give me after many years of poverty pursuing show business stardom.

I would give in to writing demands if the powers to be would provide such a sum.

I didn't need the remaining hours until Times Square exploded on the TV screen to agree to be part of this contract, which was referred to as Beanball. I signed it and sent it off.

Welcome to 2015.

Happy New Year!