One Fell Swoopo

I need to figure out a way to make money doing nothing. I know how to make money doing something, but I'm just about tired of that. Today I was introduced to swoopo.com. I guess it's a fairly new website; at least to me. I just want to talk for a minute about how this works.

Let's use eBay as a point of reference. Everyone knows how it works: You have an item, and a set amount of time to bid on it. If no one else bids, the item is yours. If you do get outbid, enter a higher price or kiss it goodbye. Often times, even with shipping and handling, you can get a pretty good deal on eBay. Sometimes, however, you're better off going to the store. Basically it's an online auction. Pretty simple, right?

Now here comes swoopo. Let me break this down for you before I get to my point. So the basic concept is, you have an item. Before I go on, I just want to be clear that I am not talking about a pair of Chucks or a fitted hat. I'm talking 47" LCD TVs, PlayStation 3s, HD cameras - the good stuff. OK back on track. Let's say the item starts at $0.01. Yes, one penny. In a sense, it works the same way eBay does. You bid and hope no one else bids higher than you. If you're the last bidder when the time runs out for that item, you win that item, and most likely at a deeeeeeeply discounted price. I've seen a 40" Sony Bravia LCD TV go for $3. At this point you're thinking it probably can't be legit, right?

Therein lies the rub. Each bid costs $0.75. So every time you bid, you're spending money. And to make matters worse (or better, depending on what side of Swoopo you're on), every time you bid time is added back to the clock. So let me paint the picture. I'm bidding on that Bravia. The current price in the auction is $60. 2 seconds left. I place my bid (costs me 75 cents), and the price goes up to $60.01. Now there are 17 seconds left. Clock ticks down to 8 seconds, someone else bids. $60.02. 23 seconds left. See where this is going? Now on one hand, you may get a $1,200 TV for 60 bucks. But think about the operators of this website. If this item started at one cent, is now at $60.02 and each 1-cent bid costs 75 cents, you've already made over $4,500 on one item. Profit and then some! It's been described as "a cross between a raffle and a game of chicken."

Still with me? Now assume there's no inventory. Assume the Swoopo people - geniuses as I like to call them - collect all the money from these bids, go to bestbuy.com, order the TV and ship it to the winner's house. They can literally collect money from people trying to get a deal. Capitalism at its finest. Now let's throw some other factors in there. It's an international website. So basically if you plan on going on to Swoopo in the wee hours of the morning to catch it at an "off peak" time, no such luck. It's still lunchtime in Tokyo. Or the day's just starting in Prague. And whatever it costs to run this site, or whatever overhead they have it can't be much, at least not enough to make it unprofitable. Brilliant.

My point is this: As with any great idea, I'm mad I didn't come up with it. And don't think I won't try to come up with something better.

I really just want to be rich. That's all.

Idiots

Turn your swag on. What? I've tried my damndest (not really), yet still cannot even begin to understand the true bastardized definition of "swag" or moreover how one would go about turning it on; I was actually going to title this post "turn your swag off," but I'm not trying to get sucked in. No, nothing Soulja Boy does is catchy, entertaining or of any musical or artistic value whatsoever (and I've already expressed in an earlier post my true sentiment towards him). And as much as I'd like to isolate this epidemic downfall of an otherwise normal word ("swagger") to him, he's not alone. All I can do is hope it ends soon. At which time we'll be onto another word. In the meantime, we're stuck with "swag."

Seriously guys...stop it.

Get Rich or Die Tryin'

Watching Aladdin raised an interesting point. You get arrested and you think you're in prison pretty much for the rest of your life. At a young age, that could be a long time. You're sitting in the prison convinced you've met your demise much earlier than you'd expected, until an old man comes up to you with quite a convincing assertion of a "Cave of Wonders" where treasures stretch beyond your wildest imaginings. He proceeds to present a handful of rubies, the equivalent of which I can not even fathom (I usually roll with 20s). "What good are rubies," you may think to yourself, "if I'm stuck in this damned prison cell?" Almost as if he was reading your mind, this man takes a cane and pushes one of the stones on the wall out, and reveals an exit.

This old man has proven a few things, mainly that he has no value for his life. Show a much younger, much more able-bodied man a handful of rubies and a way out. Cue the "whoopass." Once that stone is pushed out of the way, I'm taking the cane, striking the old man (in the head most likely), and rolling out. He can figure out what happened later. All I'm saying is, Jafar was playing a risky game with how he planned to get Aladdin to the Cave of Wonders. He could've - and should've - died right then and there.

Erica...lessons learned on the steps

So one night, I was leaving my girlfriend’s house, and I saw a girl. Crying. Now when I say crying it doesn’t even begin to portray what I saw. I don’t even think words could accurately describe the sight I saw, but it may have been one of the most abhorringly upsetting scenes I’ve ever witnessed. Her eyes were bloodshot from the tears, and she was keeled over and vomiting. She had on what looked like a shower cap, hair underneath disheveled and her otherwise fair complexion was completely red.

“Sir, can you please help me? I just need some help. I feel really depressed…here’s my last $10…I’m just feeling really depressed.”

“I don’t want your money…what’s wrong?”

“I just need someone to talk to…”

Not really knowing how to react, I sat and talked to this young lady for about 30 minutes about her family. Everything from a drug addict mother to an abusive brother, both of whom take money from her. General lack of support at home. Apparently she’d forgotten to take her medication for depression (hence her current condition). She also explained her aspirations to go to college, but being held back by her family. “I don’t have money because they’re always taking it.” Her name is Erica. She’s 20.

We sat there, and waited for the police to arrive (at her request), and talked more. I refused to believe that the damages in her relationship with her family were irreparable. I refused to believe that a home could be broken beyond the bounds of love. She was otherwise convinced. I tried to imagine Erica with a smile on her face, and wondered how often it makes an appearance. And how pretty she’d be having lived a “better” life. How at such a young age these occurrences would impact the rest of her life. How far back it’d gone, and how long it would persist. How blessed I am…

Then I started to wonder in general, how strong is love? I had no doubt in my mind that her brother and mother love her. How could they not? But how far does that take you? Of course I don’t know the answer to that question, but I like to think that it takes you as far as it needs to. How far that is, of course, depends on the relationship and the people in it. Maybe I need to stop living in the clouds, thinking that love conquers all. I just find it difficult to fathom that love is, by any stretch of the imagination, finite. That two people who love each other – a mother and a daughter, two sisters or even two friends – can reach a point where an understanding or common ground is unattainable. Maybe I’m being too idealistic or old-fashioned. Not everyone responds the same to this level of optimism with no grounds or logic to support it. But I’ve seen enough and been through enough to know that you only get one family, and really good friends are hard to come by, and they can be gone with a blink of an eye. Then you’re stuck wishing you had more memories…

Robots and skateboards?

"And I'm brainless
Which means I'm headless
Like Ichabod Crane is
Or foreplay-less sex is
Which makes me stainless
With no neck left to hang the chain with
Which makes me necklace-less
Like a necklace theft
And I ain't used my headrest yet"

What?!? I just listened to Dumb it Down 4 times in a row...somehow I feel dumber and smarter all at the same time. I like Lupe, sure. He's right up there with my favorite artists. But dammit if he doesn't go a little too deep sometimes. And by a little I mean a lot. I feel like the dude on the hook. Listened to slowly with no other distractions, they're some of the sickest lyrics you'll ever hear. (Please see above). I don't want to sound ignorant or anything...I don't know, I just feel like I shouldn't have to concentrate so hard to enjoy music. But then again the alternative is Soulja Boy, who I'm pretty convinced is partially retarded.