Dying Broke

No kid of mine was born with a silver spoon.

(They are all adults now.)

However, none grew up deprived of any basic needs.

They had a roof over their heads, were never short of food and had their education fully financed.

I’ve done what I could – within my means – for them.

No, we don’t live in a Class A bungalow. Ours is a double-storey executive maisonette, built by HDB – about 1,600 sq ft of space. We never had a butler or a chauffeur but I’m sure my children did not feel we were poor and impoverished.

What is HDB? Click here.

A watch advertisement says you buy the watch to look after it for the next generation.


What crappy advice!

Only a retard would do that.

I’m not a stinge and I don’t scrimp and save so that when I die, I will leave tons of money behind for my kids. Or a stupid watch that means nothing to them.

So I rather spend whatever I have now to ensure they and their loved ones are currently able to enjoy certain experiences with me while I am alive and kicking and not suffering from Alzheimer’s or eating dinner through a tube in my nose, or something.

A sous vide machine, a cast-iron skillet, a bow for archery, handmade by a world-renowned artisan, financial assistance with housing or post-graduate studies (in the form of interest-free loans – note I say “loans” not advance inheritance, mind you), books, books, and books (I never scrimp on books for family and friends) memorable birthday meals, a high-end coffee machine (from bean to brew type), family trips to exceptional destinations, etc are gratifying, positive experiences that can be enjoyed now and are better than an additional 150,000 bucks inherited from my estate when they turn 50.

In fact, leaving behind heaps of money for your kids is likely to metamorphose them into nasty, viperous assholes. Ownership of un-earned money changes behavior. Just look at those scammers who pastor churches.

Another thing I won’t leave for my kids will be debts.

I may die broke, but I will die debt-free.

The last cheque I write will be to my undertaker, and it won’t bounce. (I’ll send it before I croak.)

I came into this world empty-handed and I will leave the same way.

My kids are bright kids, not brain-damaged, half-dead, living vegetables kept semi-alive by machines while lying in bed in a comatose state; they know how to carve out a future for themselves and their families.

They’ll be fine.

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