A rich, privileged asshole

Filthy rich elitist asshole Bruce Springsteen has come forward to talk about his bouts with “crippling depression” and how he overcame it.

“I was lying in bed in one of the master bedrooms in one of my mansions” said the rich, privileged asshole.

I forget which mansion but it’s the one where one of the master bedrooms, I forget which one, overlooks my private harbor. I like having a private harbor. Peaceful. It really connects me with the common man. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. I was lying in bed looking out on my private harbor when it hit me: I had to get up at 9 am yesterday. And I got depressed. How do people live like that?  How does the working man get up at 9 am in one of his master bedrooms overlooking his private harbor and not get depressed? Depression is a sneaky thing you know.

The rich, privileged asshole then went on to relate how he overcame his bout of depression.

I decided I can do one of two things. I can sit in one of my master bedrooms, I forget which one but it was the one overlooking my private harbor, feeling sorry for myself or I can get out of bed, even though the hour was an ungodly 10:30 in the morning, and do something! And that’s what I did. I did something. I called my new chauffeur and had him drive me to my private airport so I could be flown on my private jet to my private island in the Bahamas. I like my new chauffeur. I had to fire my old one. He wanted a five percent raise. Employees. They want to nickel and dime you. Anyway my new chauffeur drove me to the airport where I was flown to my private island in the Bahamas. And that’s how I was cured of my debilitating depression. You see, being cured of depression is very easy. Just do what I do.  I recommend it. There is no excuse not to. If you don’t have a private island then I suggest you invest wisely and buy one. They are affordable. Mine only cost 25 million. But you can write it off. I told my chauffeur this but he just shook his head at me. I guess he’s too busy spending the money I pay him on beer or chicken wings. He’s not getting a raise. 

Indeed the debilitating depression suffered by this rich, privileged asshole is not uncommon in rich, privileged assholes.

“We call it ‘Rich, Privileged Asshole Syndrome’ “ said a psychiatrist.

This happens when a man who has everything, who is lucky and has hit the jackpot in life, who never has to worry about paying the rent or making a car payment, wakes up, usually around 11 am and says “My god, I am depressed.” We usually tell people like this that the only cure is to fly down to their private island in the Bahamas. We tell them this because we don’t want to lose our licenses by kicking the rich, privileged asshole in the balls.  

As for the rich, privileged asshole himself, now cured of his depression he plans on divorcing his wife.

I mean I love Patti. But she’s getting old and her private parts are drying up. And that could make me depressed again. But she doesn’t have to worry. According to our pre-nup she’ll always have a job with me. Probably as a chauffeur.

“But I’m not giving her a raise” said the rich, privileged asshole.  “Working people have to learn their place.”

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