For the artists.If you have an hour and a half, here's an interesting discussion for you.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Milliond Dollar Babies
Found this on yahoo.
We all have are preconceptions about millionaires: they're tax evaders who just inherited their money from rich Aunt Flo, and they hang around the golf course all day with their snobby, elitist friends. So what's the average millionaire really like? Here are seven millionaire myths, and the real facts about the ones who seem to have it all.
1. Millionaires Don't Pay Their Taxes
Fact: It is estimated that millionaires, those in the top 1% of earners, pay about 40% of all taxes. Current tax regulation shifts may change these numbers to make this even larger than that - so think twice before accusing the millionaires in America of not paying taxes.
More from Investopedia:
• 6 Millionaire Traits That You Can Adopt
• 10 Steps To Retire A Millionaire
• 6 Biggest Millionaire Flops
2. Millionaires Just Inherited Their Money
According to Thomas J. Stanley's book, "The Millionaire Next Door: The Surprising Secrets of America's Wealthy," only 20% of millionaires inherited their riches. The other 80% are what you'd call nouveau riche: first generation millionaires who earned their cash on their own. Many millionaires simply worked, saved and lived within their means to generate their wealth - think accountants and managers: regular people going to work every day. Most millionaires didn't get their riches overnight when a rich relative died - they worked for the money.
3. Millionaires Feel Rich
From the outside looking in, you would think that millionaires feel rich and secure, but that's not so. Most millionaires worry about retirement, their kids' college fund and the mortgage just like the rest of us. Those worries are greatest among new millionaires, the people who just recently acquired their wealth.
4. Millionaires Have High-Paying Jobs
It certainly doesn't hurt to be gainfully employed, but half of all millionaires are self-employed or own a business. It does help to have a college degree, as about 80% are college graduates, though only 18% have master's degrees.
5. Millionaires All Drive Fancy Cars
You can get that idea of the rich guy in a fancy German car out of your head when you think of a millionaire: they actually drive a Ford, with the carmaker topping the millionaire preferred car list at 9.4%. Cadillacs run second on the millionaires' favorite car list, and Lincolns third according to onmoneymaking.com.
Car payments are an investment with little return, which is why someone looking to grow wealth avoids high-priced vehicles in favor of a more economical set of wheels.
6. Millionaires Hang Around the Golf Course All Day
Those millionaires are all retired, with nothing else to do but hang around the golf course, right? Wrong: only 20% of millionaires are retirees, with a full 80% still going to work. It's not as glamorous or fun, but millionaires go to work just like you do; it's how the money gets in the bank.
7. Millionaires Are Elitists
We've already established that most millionaires earned their money not inherited it, still go to work, drive a Ford and worry about their kids' college expenses. Sounds a lot like the rest of America, right? Millionaires come in all shapes and sizes - some may be elitists, but most are just regular Joes who successfully managed their money.
The Bottom Line
Maybe you see a pattern here: today's millionaires are people who live within their means, budget and spend wisely, and focus on financial independence first. These are habits that take discipline, but ones we can all adopt to begin growing wealth. If these facts prove anything, it's that every one of us can strive to become a millionaire - you can start by driving your old car with pride
We all have are preconceptions about millionaires: they're tax evaders who just inherited their money from rich Aunt Flo, and they hang around the golf course all day with their snobby, elitist friends. So what's the average millionaire really like? Here are seven millionaire myths, and the real facts about the ones who seem to have it all.
1. Millionaires Don't Pay Their Taxes
Fact: It is estimated that millionaires, those in the top 1% of earners, pay about 40% of all taxes. Current tax regulation shifts may change these numbers to make this even larger than that - so think twice before accusing the millionaires in America of not paying taxes.
More from Investopedia:
• 6 Millionaire Traits That You Can Adopt
• 10 Steps To Retire A Millionaire
• 6 Biggest Millionaire Flops
2. Millionaires Just Inherited Their Money
According to Thomas J. Stanley's book, "The Millionaire Next Door: The Surprising Secrets of America's Wealthy," only 20% of millionaires inherited their riches. The other 80% are what you'd call nouveau riche: first generation millionaires who earned their cash on their own. Many millionaires simply worked, saved and lived within their means to generate their wealth - think accountants and managers: regular people going to work every day. Most millionaires didn't get their riches overnight when a rich relative died - they worked for the money.
3. Millionaires Feel Rich
From the outside looking in, you would think that millionaires feel rich and secure, but that's not so. Most millionaires worry about retirement, their kids' college fund and the mortgage just like the rest of us. Those worries are greatest among new millionaires, the people who just recently acquired their wealth.
4. Millionaires Have High-Paying Jobs
It certainly doesn't hurt to be gainfully employed, but half of all millionaires are self-employed or own a business. It does help to have a college degree, as about 80% are college graduates, though only 18% have master's degrees.
5. Millionaires All Drive Fancy Cars
You can get that idea of the rich guy in a fancy German car out of your head when you think of a millionaire: they actually drive a Ford, with the carmaker topping the millionaire preferred car list at 9.4%. Cadillacs run second on the millionaires' favorite car list, and Lincolns third according to onmoneymaking.com.
Car payments are an investment with little return, which is why someone looking to grow wealth avoids high-priced vehicles in favor of a more economical set of wheels.
6. Millionaires Hang Around the Golf Course All Day
Those millionaires are all retired, with nothing else to do but hang around the golf course, right? Wrong: only 20% of millionaires are retirees, with a full 80% still going to work. It's not as glamorous or fun, but millionaires go to work just like you do; it's how the money gets in the bank.
7. Millionaires Are Elitists
We've already established that most millionaires earned their money not inherited it, still go to work, drive a Ford and worry about their kids' college expenses. Sounds a lot like the rest of America, right? Millionaires come in all shapes and sizes - some may be elitists, but most are just regular Joes who successfully managed their money.
The Bottom Line
Maybe you see a pattern here: today's millionaires are people who live within their means, budget and spend wisely, and focus on financial independence first. These are habits that take discipline, but ones we can all adopt to begin growing wealth. If these facts prove anything, it's that every one of us can strive to become a millionaire - you can start by driving your old car with pride
The Best of Times
Wordlife
It’s been a long and lonely trip but I’m glad that I took it because it was well worth it.
I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict.
Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose.
Used to wonder if I’d live to see my first kiss.
The most difficult thing I ever did was recite my own words at a service
realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn’t looking down from heaven.
Or cooking up something in hell’s kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some another dimension.
It was self serving just like this is.
Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance,
’til we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.
I don’t remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed.
Or I just spent too much time wondering if I’d live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn’t have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade I wrote her the note but I slipped it in someone else’s locker.
Considered killing myself ’cause of that.
It was a big deal. It was a blown cover.
It was over for me. My goose was cooked.
Stick a fork in me. The jig is up.
I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder.
It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer.
At least I didn’t include my name.
Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code
and it had 10 layers of scotch tape safety seal making it impossible to open.
Plus, it was set to self destruct.
Whoever read it probably died…laughing.
I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened.
A year later, I came to understand that wasn’t love that I was feeling for her.
I had someone else to obsess over.
I was older. I was very mature.
I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph ’cause I was failing math.
Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.
I checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road.
Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular you’re guaranteed to find it.
For better or worse that’s how I learned that it’s best to just keep some things private.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
I was always on deck, I was next in line.
An only child with a pen and pad writing a list of things that I could never have.
The walls in my house were paper thin.
Every squabble seemed to get deafening.
If my memory serves me correctly I made it a point to void and forget some things.
Probably to keep from being embarrassed.
Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents.
Kept my secrets…hid my talents…
in my head, never under the mattress.
Therapy couldn’t break me.
Never learned a word that would insure safety.
So I spoke softly and I tip toed often.
The door to my room was like a big old coffin.
The way that it creeked when I closed it shut.
Anxieties peaked when it opened up.
As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed.
I still sleep fully clothed.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
It was beautiful.
It was brutal.
It was cruel.
It was business as usual.
Heaven. It was hell.
Used to wonder if I’d live to see 12.
When I did I figured that I was immortal.
Loved to dance but couldn’t make it to the formal.
Couldn’t bear watching my imaginary girlfriend
bust a move with any other dudes.
Tone Loc was talking bout a “Wild Thang”
but I was still caught up in some child thangs.
Scared of a God who couldn’t spare the rod.
It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang.
Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac.
Couldn’t explain my desire to steal that fire.
Now I add it to my rider.
Like “Please oh please don’t throw me in that patch of brier!”
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
The school counselor was clueless ’cause I never skipped classes.
Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent.
Speech impediment they could never really fix
and I faked bad eyesight so I could wear glasses.
Considered doing something that would cripple me.
I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy.
I wanted straight teeth so then came braces.
4 years of head gear helped me change faces.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
Now I wonder if I’ll live to see marriage.
Wonder if I’ll live long enough to have kids.
Wonder if I’ll live to see my kids have kids.
If I do I’m gonna tell ‘em how it is.
“Don’t listen when they tell you that these are your best years.
Don’t let anybody protect your ears.
It’s best that you hear what they don’t want you to hear.
It’s better to have pressure from peers than not have peers.
Beer won’t give you chest hair. Spicy food won’t make it curl.
When you think you’ve got it all figured out and then everything collapses…
trust me, kid…it’s not the end of the world.”
It’s been a long and lonely trip but I’m glad that I took it because it was well worth it.
I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict.
Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose.
Used to wonder if I’d live to see my first kiss.
The most difficult thing I ever did was recite my own words at a service
realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn’t looking down from heaven.
Or cooking up something in hell’s kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some another dimension.
It was self serving just like this is.
Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance,
’til we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.
I don’t remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed.
Or I just spent too much time wondering if I’d live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn’t have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade I wrote her the note but I slipped it in someone else’s locker.
Considered killing myself ’cause of that.
It was a big deal. It was a blown cover.
It was over for me. My goose was cooked.
Stick a fork in me. The jig is up.
I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder.
It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer.
At least I didn’t include my name.
Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code
and it had 10 layers of scotch tape safety seal making it impossible to open.
Plus, it was set to self destruct.
Whoever read it probably died…laughing.
I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened.
A year later, I came to understand that wasn’t love that I was feeling for her.
I had someone else to obsess over.
I was older. I was very mature.
I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph ’cause I was failing math.
Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.
I checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road.
Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular you’re guaranteed to find it.
For better or worse that’s how I learned that it’s best to just keep some things private.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
I was always on deck, I was next in line.
An only child with a pen and pad writing a list of things that I could never have.
The walls in my house were paper thin.
Every squabble seemed to get deafening.
If my memory serves me correctly I made it a point to void and forget some things.
Probably to keep from being embarrassed.
Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents.
Kept my secrets…hid my talents…
in my head, never under the mattress.
Therapy couldn’t break me.
Never learned a word that would insure safety.
So I spoke softly and I tip toed often.
The door to my room was like a big old coffin.
The way that it creeked when I closed it shut.
Anxieties peaked when it opened up.
As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed.
I still sleep fully clothed.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
It was beautiful.
It was brutal.
It was cruel.
It was business as usual.
Heaven. It was hell.
Used to wonder if I’d live to see 12.
When I did I figured that I was immortal.
Loved to dance but couldn’t make it to the formal.
Couldn’t bear watching my imaginary girlfriend
bust a move with any other dudes.
Tone Loc was talking bout a “Wild Thang”
but I was still caught up in some child thangs.
Scared of a God who couldn’t spare the rod.
It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang.
Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac.
Couldn’t explain my desire to steal that fire.
Now I add it to my rider.
Like “Please oh please don’t throw me in that patch of brier!”
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
The school counselor was clueless ’cause I never skipped classes.
Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent.
Speech impediment they could never really fix
and I faked bad eyesight so I could wear glasses.
Considered doing something that would cripple me.
I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy.
I wanted straight teeth so then came braces.
4 years of head gear helped me change faces.
It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
Now I wonder if I’ll live to see marriage.
Wonder if I’ll live long enough to have kids.
Wonder if I’ll live to see my kids have kids.
If I do I’m gonna tell ‘em how it is.
“Don’t listen when they tell you that these are your best years.
Don’t let anybody protect your ears.
It’s best that you hear what they don’t want you to hear.
It’s better to have pressure from peers than not have peers.
Beer won’t give you chest hair. Spicy food won’t make it curl.
When you think you’ve got it all figured out and then everything collapses…
trust me, kid…it’s not the end of the world.”
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