If I were so smart, wouldn’t I be rich by now?

In this story, I’m on the phone with my favorite professor. You know the one–with the tweed jacket and the line drawing of “Death the Comforter” over his desk and the cigarette in his hand brushing back the greasy hair. Always the cigarette. After all, it is the 1990s. In this story, however, it’s the Read more about If I were so smart, wouldn’t I be rich by now?[…]