One Point’s Guide To Tough Times

This is a perfect example of a good place for Josh to cut down on spending.  Just order one coffee at a time and go to places with free refills.  (Photo from hoopshabit dot com).
This is a perfect example of a good place for Josh to cut down on spending. Just order one coffee at a time and go to places with free refills. (Photo from hoopshabit dot com).

Josh Smith is upset. He’s gone on the record and stated the obvious: His making a mere 6.9 million dollars next year is going to be tough on his family.

No Shit!! Amiright?!

If like me, you have absolutely no idea who
Josh Smith is, allow me to let you know what I’ve discovered so far.  He’s a 28 year old professional basketball player with career earnings of 90 million dollars or so.  If he started playing professionally at age 18, my massive calculator brain estimates he’s averaged 9 million a year as a pro.

Josh is far from the first young multi-millionaire who’s been faced with financial duress due to slashed wages.  As a public service to these struggling men and women, I’m offering some budget advice.  Even if you’re not a professional athlete or movie star, you may find a few gems in here.  Following just a couple of my financial hints may help you avoid having to sleep on a steam grate near the bus station for another winter.

Everyone knows that buying in bilk can save you money, especially on essentials like caviar, fancy crackers and jet skis. (Collage by the author)

  • Shop at warehouse stores for caviar.  You could save a ton of money!  Down on aisle 17 they usually have great deals on variety packs of crackers to smear those delicious fish eggs on.  Also…look! A Jet Ski!
It's great saving money on vehicle insurance.  Does this private jet really only have one toilet?
Does this plane really only have one toilet?
  • Consider taking Flo from Progressive’s advice and bundle car, home and private jet insurance policies to save on premiums.
This lovely young woman works with me.  To answer your questions, No I neither work in a basement nor a strip club.  The black bar was added to give this illustration a more naughty vibe
This lovely young woman actually works with me. To answer your questions;  no, I work in neither a basement nor a strip club. The black bar was added to give the photo a more naughty, Bob-Crane-home-movie kind of vibe.
  • If visiting a strip club, refrain from “making it rain” with large denomination bills.  Try using rolls of nickels instead.
Kanye knows better than to wear leather pants with chinchilla after Labor Day!  (Photo from rapgenius dot com)
Kanye knows better than to wear leather pants with chinchilla after Labor Day! (Photo from rapgenius dot com)
  • Consider hiring a professional financial manager to help with stretching those six million nine hundred thousand dollars.  I realize doing this will put your Uncle Curtis out of work, but he’s had a good 9 year run – hopefully he can get his old job back working for the county.  He’ll look good driving that truck with his fur on.

You could start a trend Josh.  Rumor has it Labron is out taking a Kia Sorento for a test drive right now!  (Collage by the author)

  • Trade in your gas-guzzling Bentley and opt for a more economical Toyota Prius.  If headroom is going to be an issue, splurge the extra few bucks to get one with a sunroof.
  • Don’t forget to have the people at the arena to validate your parking pass!

Make sure you pack some wet naps.

  • Brown bag your lunch for road games.  Out of town restaurants can be budget busters!  Packing some wet naps may also save you big bucks at the dry cleaners – you know how messy lobster can get!


kk on beer

  • Stay away from Kardashians!  (This won’t necessarily save you money, but it’s good advice anyway).  Take a look at that photo – it’s nothing but trouble; Kimmy’s keister AND evil, delicious imperial stout. This will cost you – If not in money, then in dignity.



Dr. Palmer posing with the elusive giant chocolate lab he bagged on a recent excursion in the south of Jersey.

  • Avoid exotic pets.  Many athletes and movie stars learn too late about the potentially steep veterinary bills and liability insurance costs related to owning jungle cats, primates or birds of prey.  Besides, you run the the risk that a certain American dentist may come kill your pet with a bow and arrow.


Drivin with your homey Flo.  Yo Flo, remind me to get my parking validated.  (Collage by the author)
“Drivin’ with my homey Flo-me. Yo , Yo, Yo, Flo-me – Remind me to get my parking validated.”
  • Encourage your family members to get out there and look for work.  Your wife/girlfriend/baby mama may well have some untapped earning potential.  Remember, if she gets a job near the sports complex, you guys can car pool in the Prius!

1PP Jock

  • Avoid the big-name-jock-strap-trap!  A recent issue of Consumer Reports found that start-up independent manufacturers offer supporters with nearly identical performance as the big name garments – without the big name price!  The graphics on this jockstrap are off the hook!  It’s a shame to cover it up with your game shorts, but the league has standards.
  • It’s never too late to start investing in your future.  I suggest cutting a six figure check to One Point Perspective Enterprises.  There’s no guarantee of dividends, but there’s also no guarantee of a return on your investment!
I plan on cashing that first check and buying myself some snazzy headbands.
I plan on buying myself some snazzy headbands once that first check clears.
  • Finally, if things get really bad, you should consider writing a blog.  It won’t likely make you any money, but it might give you enough perspective to understand that 6.9 million dollars aint too bad for a year of shooting hoops.






Lemme Tell Ya How To Spend That Money

I’m certainly not the first person to shake my head in amazement at hair-brained scientific studies which waste crazy amounts of government money finding out that donuts make us fat or that, on average, dogs like to turn around 2.7 revolutions before lying down.  Though I admit to wondering whether dogs south of the equator turn counter-clockwise like the whole water-down-the-drain thing.

It’s understandable that we have issues with public monies in the form of grants and such getting used for frivolous studies when there are tens of thousands of us who could have used that money to get iPhones and European sedans.

Let’s not waste any more time pissing and moaning about stupid “scientific” misuses of tax payor dollars.  I’d rather focus on the wasting of other dollars.  Money which I never really had any claim to in the first place; funds raised by foundations and groups for the pursuit of one holy grail or another.

I read about the most recent expedition of teams of scientists flying to the furthest reaches of the South Pacific trying to find Amelia Earhart’s crash site.  When and if someone finds it, everyone will be like “Oh! Thank Goodness!  Now we know conclusively that her plane went down and she died”  Does anyone really doubt that happened?  Does it matter to anyone whether she was killed in a crash?  Is there really any chance that she survived and lived off of poi and roasted sea gull until being rescued by local fishermen, who sold her into the lucrative white slave markets of Tonga?

What about the romance angle?  Earhart was flying with navigator Fred Noonan.  They left Papua New Guinea on July 2, 1937 and were never seen again.  Isn’t it possible that the two of them just wanted to get away from it all and build a happy love nest on some small atoll?  How has no one ever pursued that angle?

Okay, so we know she got in the plane, here’s a photo. We know she was over a desolate part of the world with few islands and mostly vast expanses of open water. We know she disappeared. Hmmm…what could have happened? It’s a mystery I tell ya! (image from

The big appeal of the Earhart disappearance is that no one knows for certain, and these people really want to know, definitively, what happened.  I can understand the itch of not knowing and needing to to know something.  Still, there are plenty of other mysteries which we don’t have an answer to, but have generated a fraction of the funds toward solving.

I’d like to propose that they spend less of that private money on finding Amelia Earhart and more of it on finding Big Foot.  We already have plenty of evidence that Amelia existed, and have lots of facts about her exploits, except the very last thing she did.  Bigfoot, on the other hand, has been much more elusive.

There have been reports of Bigfoot’s existence for a great many years in cultures around the world.  He’s known by different names in different parts of the world, including Sasquatch, Yeti and Shaq.  This creature has lived in our world for thousands of years, and yet we have no evidence of him.  No fur, no definite tracks, no bones or remains, not even a single turd.

I showed this pic to a few ladies I know, and the consensus is that this female Sasquatch might have had a little work done. Just too perky for a mature Bigfoot female in their collective opinion. I’m more curious why she decided to have her picture taken in front of a backdrop of fake woods when she lives in a real forest. (Image from

Let’s let those facts sink in for a moment shall we?  There is no trace of Bigfoot really.  These giant creatures have lived in the wilderness for all these centuries and have managed to pick up after themselves and refrain from carving their initials in a single sequoia.  They’ve been so fastidious about not leaving a mess behind that some folks point to the lack of a physical evidence and question whether Bigfoot even exists.

We humans, on the other hand, can’t even make ourselves a cup of coffee and have a morning sit-down without leaving carbon footprints which are visible from outer space.  Considering the wreckless pace at which we’re driving the planet toward becoming a globally-warmed, trash-island-having, toxic waste site, we need to find Bigfoot and soon.  Without his secrets for clean living, we’re doomed.

As long as we’re on the subject, in thousands of years, the Loch Ness Monster has polluted less water than the average 30 minute jet-ski rental.  This is likely due to the fact that, unlike Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster doesn’t actually exist.  I mean come on, people, you can’t really believe that nonsense, right?


By this time tomorrow, this wallet will be the same damn size. (Photo of author's wallet, by the author)

I was standing on line this morning on my way to work waiting to buy a lottery ticket.  Actually, several lottery tickets.  When the jackpot gets insanely high, it’s hard for even the mathematically savvy to avoid the temptation of buying a few tickets.

There was a woman at the counter, and from the look of her, you could tell she was no fair weather friend to the lottery.  On the contrary, she appeared to have had a long love affair with playing the numbers.  As I patiently waited my turn, glancing at my watch, she played the Pick 3, the Pick 4, the Cash 5 and the Mega Millions.  She was playing numbers boxed and squared and speaking to the man behind the counter in a lottery-dialect which the rest of us could not begin to comprehend.  I glanced at the sheaf of papers in her hand and began to worry that she might be standing at the counter for another hour.

I distracted myself from the potential of my being late to work for the first time in…well..ever, by looking at her attire.  She had on a purple, black, white and pink blouse which looked like something Peter Max had vomited after too many boxes of Good n Plenties.  Her pants were a shiny black and the wrong size for one of her sizeable legs, let alone both of them.  Her shoes were equally garish.  Her hair, in curlers, was covered by a scarf which looked to have been purchased several decades ago with Green Stamps.

As she left the store, my heart just sunk.  I knew that despite my pending investment of five bucks, my long shot odds had just gotten astronomically worse.  In the ridiculously highly unlikely odds that this convenience store would be selling the winning ticket to tonight’s Mega Millions, the chance it would be one of my tickets just got much worse.  The perfect  candidate for winning had just waddled past me.

I could visualize her standing there with her idiotic grin, her Peg Bundy wardrobe and family of deliriously happy hill-folk, holding a check with more zeros than she had teeth.

I thought of how the makers of hideous clothing would see a sudden jump in profits.  How her sons and daughters would soon be festooned with more gold chains than Mr. T when he was winning big at “Pretty Pretty Princess”.  The gold on their necks nearly blinding oncoming traffic as they drove past us in the Mercedes SUV’s which they had spared no expense having converted into bling-tastic monster trucks.

She’ll move out of that trailer and buy a place with some land.  Her new home will be recognizable by the multitude of fountains, bird baths, those cork-screw pine bushes, and of course the aforementioned monster truck-converted SUV’s.  Architecturally, the house will be a mess of styles, with Corinthian columns, turrets, bow windows and a wing which bears some odd resemblance to a Miami Vice drug king-pin’s penthouse lair.

Despite the massive amount of money she’ll win, the house will eventually be shuttered and abandoned when the unthinkably massive amount of money disappears, and our winner spends the last of her years unsuccessfully trying to sue the lottery for ruining her life.  She will have failed miserably at being rich.  Having as much money as the filthy rich and elite, she will have learned the hard way that it’s impossible to buy the taste, security and grace with which the truly wealthy stroll the earth.

As these thoughts bounced around in my massive bald head, I stepped to the counter and bought my tickets anyway.  I drove to work without wasting a moment thinking about the changes my life would see if I somehow won.  My neck is  safe from the weight of multiple gold chains, and the beach realtors will not see me unless I’m renting a place for a week in the summer.  On the bright side, I won’t have to worry about changing tax brackets or time zones.  I was quite pleased to note that I wouldn’t be late for work.