Do you know any rich people?” she asks. I ponder this. I have a suspicion a few of our friends are wealthier than they let on, but actual, three-kids-in-private-school, wheeeee-I-have-so-much-money rich? “A few,” I tell her. “They’re all assholes, right?” she replies. I have to admit she has a point there. “You don’t get rich enough to buy a house in this neighborhood today unless you’re fucking people. So when you see somebody pushing one of those $800 strollers, you know it was paid for by fucking people. That,” she says with a flourish, “is what you hate.
