ZimmermanTelegram: How much are my bosses offering you?

StrasburgerSyndrome: Well, the first offer was a handful of rocks that Ted Lerner found in the parking lot.

StrasburgerSyndrome: And I I was like, "man, this is a gravel parking lot. These aren't special rocks." But he kept yelling, "Rock! Rock!" with this big ear-to-ear grin.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Then he made up some inane story about how the rock used to be part of a spaceship, but a cowboy rode in on his horse and shot it with his gun, and it blew up into a bunch of little rocks.

ZimmermanTelegram: I'm not buying it.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Yeah. Wholly unbelievable. Then for the next half-hour he wildly flailed a Cobra Commander action figure around in the air and made "whoosh" noises. Negotiations have stalled, I'm sad to say.

ZimmermanTelegram: Lerner's no pushover. How much are you looking for?

StrasburgerSyndrome: I want to be so full of money that I have to use my d*** as a change purse.

ZimmermanTelegram: Every can't-miss prospect talks that way, kid. They over-estimate themselves and they get it into their heads that they immediately deserve "d***-as-a-change purse" money.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Well, let's just say $20 million. I'd be completely content with six years and $20 million.

ZimmermanTelegram: Let's deconstruct it. Why do you want exactly $20 million?

StrasburgerSyndrome: Well, are you familiar with that classic thought-experiment? The one that asks, "how much would someone have to pay you to eat dog poop?"

StrasburgerSyndrome: At first you say, "I don't know. Maybe a thousand bucks?" But then you're asked, "would you do it for $999?"

StrasburgerSyndrome: And you're like, "well sure, what's a dollar less?" But then you keep being haggled down until you say no. The conclusion of the experiment is that you have to set a firm price and stick with it.

ZimmermanTelegram: Fair enough. But you have to think. What are you going to do with $20 million?

StrasburgerSyndrome: Well, ever since I was a little kid, there's something I've always wanted to do...

StrasburgerSyndrome: Nevermind. It's stupid.

ZimmermanTelegram: Aw, come on. This should be good.

StrasburgerSyndrome: sigh

Fine.

StrasburgerSyndrome: I've always wanted to completely cover the exterior of an aircraft carrier in pennies.

ZimmermanTelegram: Wouldn't it sink?

StrasburgerSyndrome: I intend to find out.

ZimmermanTelegram: How many pennies would it take?

StrasburgerSyndrome: /deep breath

StrasburgerSyndrome: A U.S. cent is .75 inches in diameter. Do the math, and you'll find that approximately 2,066 pennies would fit in a square meter.

StrasburgerSyndrome: The deck of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier is about 13,000 square meters. The "wet area" is approximately 40,000 square meters. So that's 53,000 square meters we're dealing with. Multiply that by 2,066 and we arrive at our answer: it will take about $1 million to completely clad an aircraft carrier in pennies.

StrasburgerSyndrome: I want to sail a fleet of five aircraft carriers around the world -- so that's $5 million. I want to lean over the deck, heckle the poorer peoples of the Earth, and throw pennies at them. I'm reserving another $5 million or so in pennies for that.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Then, after I've sailed around the Earth to my satisfaction, I'll find a place to throw anchor and build a stack of pennies so high that it crosses the upper reaches of Earth's atmosphere and the pennies just start floating into space.

ZimmermanTelegram: What the Hell? You can't do that. That would take, like, a trillion pennies.

StrasburgerSyndrome: sigh

StrasburgerSyndrome: No it wouldn't.

StrasburgerSyndrome: I'd have to build the stack of pennies 62 miles high to break Earth's atmosphere. 62 miles = 327,360 feet = 3,928,320 inches.

StrasburgerSyndrome: A penny is .06 inches thick. So a stack of 17 pennies is about an inch high.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Multiply the 3,928,320 by the 17, and you have 66,781,440. That's how many pennies I would need. Of course, that equals out to $667,814.40.

ZimmermanTelegram: wh

guh

StrasburgerSyndrome: I know, I know. "But Stephen, honey, what are you going to do with the other $9 million or so?"

StrasburgerSyndrome: Well, I'm going to bribe the airlines to ensure that planes don't run into my awesome stack of pennies and knock it over. I'm figuring that it would cost about $2 million? Who knows. That's the only element of this equation I'm unsure of.

StrasburgerSyndrome: So that leaves me with about $7 million. I'm 21 years old right now. If I sign a 6-year deal, it'll expire when I'm 27.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Given the trend in life expectancy and my impressive physical health, I figure I'll live until I'm 90. The minute my contract expires, I'll retire, and I'll have 63 years left to live.

StrasburgerSyndrome: I'll take that $7 million and live on about $111,000 a year until the day I die. So I'll still be living pretty damn comfortably.

ZimmermanTelegram: i

jesus christ

ZimmermanTelegram: How did you find the time to add all that up?

StrasburgerSyndrome: I spent my first 18 years in a labaratory, floating in a vat of amino acids. Trust me, I had plenty of time to think.

StrasburgerSyndrome: Hey, can I borrow a dollar?

ZimmermanTelegram: uh, sure

StrasburgerSyndrome: Thanks.

Mr. Lerner, I would like to buy your franchise for a dollar.

SlowLerner: noooooooo

StrasburgerSyndrome: /folds dollar bill into paper airplane

Mr. Lerner, I would like to buy your franchise for this aeroplane.

SlowLerner: hmmmmmm

StrasburgerSyndrome: uh

WHOOOSH! This is the pilot, requesting to land! ZOOOM!!!

SlowLerner: AAAAAHH /clap clap clap

ZimmermanTelegram: OH MY GOD THAT IS SO NOT A REAL AIRPLANE

SlowLerner: heeehehehehheheeeee!!!

ZimmermanTelegram: STOP IT

STOP LAUGHING