As an astute mega-mogul, Mr. T. instinctively moved on without delay to step 2: dump liabilities onto someone else.
“Hmmm….” he mused. “How can I unload that poisoned aardvark meat?….. Let’s see….yeah, foist it off as steaks under my premium ‘Triumph Steaks’ brand… and feature their exclusive mystery ingredient! ”
This shock immediately mobilized the mercantile mind of the mogul Mr. T. Without thinking, he greedily grabbed the first asset in sight – the carcass of the last edible aardvark – and tore into it tooth and nail, slurping, grunting, and emitting sounds like “mine” and “all mine“.
The serving staff was agog! Normally they would see such behavior as bestial and vulgar. But in someone with the net worth of Mr. Triumph, it quite correctly came across as alpha male, and only showed his superiority and masculine vigor.
Devastating news! Every last aardvark is dead!
“WHAT!?!” screams Triumph, “HOW?!…mercury poisoning?… a mercury mine upstream…I’ll sue the balls off them!! …HUH, I do? I thought I sold that mine last year!”
Before settling down to a feast befitting his financial status, Mr. Triumph is interrupted by an exigent marimba jingle emanating from his iPhone.
“Pour the Lafitte Rothschild, sweetheart. This will only take a sec!”
“Smells fantastic, Henri. You’re a terrific asset, believe me.” intoned Mr. T. in his most oleaginous confidential voice. He was about to add “Speaking of terrific assets…”, when suddenly his phone began jangling an insistent marimba ditty!
“Yes, a dish for me and me alone, ” crowed Mr. Triumph. “I own every single aardvark on earth!”
FOR A MAN OF GREAT WEALTH, THE USUAL HAS TO BE MOST UN-USUAL.
Mr. Triumph’s unceasing subversive missives are sent, at this moment, one might say literally sub rosa!