A new Goldman State Podcast drops every Friday!

Goulash: it’s not just for dinner anymore

By Ed Goldman

ACRONYMBLE, ACRO-QUICK—While reading an article about the supposedly new craze among the newly rich and were-always-rich—flying in private jets, whether rented or owned—I came across an acronym I’d never heard: HENRY. It stands for High Earners Not Rich Yet.

I’m guessing that the more casual among us would settle for being just a HANK (Happy And Naturally Kissable) but that has nothing to do with either wealth or aspirations. So here are 30 acronymic names that might send the right me$$age:

1. VERNA (Very Erotic, Not Risk Averse);
2. ARNOLD (Already Rich, Not Only Liquid Deals);

3. FRANK (Filthy Rich And No Killjoy);
4. RICHARD (Rolling In Cash Holdings And Realty Dollars);
5. MATT (Major Assets; Try Titanium);
6. LORELEI (Lotta Overpriced Real Estate, Lotta Expendable Income);
7. HYACINTH (Have You Any Cash Invested Near The Hamptons?);
8. WHITNEY (Why Have I Totally Not Expensed You?);

9. IDA (I’m Deducting All);
10. MICHAEL (Maybe I Could Have Acquired Everything Legally);
11. LINDA (Less Inclined Now; Doing Average);
12. REGIS (Really Enjoy Getting Illicit Subsidies);
13. CYRUS (Can You Really Undeclare Spouses?);
14. ISADORE (I’m Starting A Divorce; Only Realistic Escape);
15. WILMA (Why’d I Lease My Accura?);
16. CRAIG (Corporate Raiding Always Incenses Gatekeepers);

17. BART (Banks Are Rather Touchy);
18. SALLY (Savings And Loans Leave Yearly);
19. CURTIS (Credit Unions Rewarding Trusts Is Seldom);
20. BEN (Bonds Ease Nervousness);
21. HAROLD (Have Always Relied On Loaded Dad);
22. WILL (Wish I’d Loaned Less);
23. IONA (I Own No Assets);
24. DEBORAH (Debtors Evade, Bypass Or Rage About Homeloans);

25. OLIVIA (Over-Loaded Inventory Versus Icky Alimony);
26. AMELIA (A Mortgage Equity Loan Is Annoying);
27. NOAH (Never Order Again Hangry);
28. LIAM (Listen, I Am Monetized);
29. OLIVER (Oh, Look. I Voided Every Receipt); and
30. EMMALINE (Even Mom Made A Lot In New Enterprises).

ADJUST SEASONS TO TASTE—I’ve mentioned before that California now has five seasons: winter, spring, summer, fall and fire.

All of them have seemed to expand or contract in length since people who denied the existence of climate change were no longer considered “quirky yet sane in their own way”—the kind of people who buttonhole you at a party, rant like lunatics, forcing you to say, “Well, you may have a point there” but refrain from adding, “And it makes me wonder how you can put on a hat.”

What I mean is, despite what the calendar tells us, summer heat usually runs well into fall here. And, except for this past year—when our days were unseasonably pleasant throughout July—spring tends to morph into summer long before Memorial Day, which is still weeks before the official start of the season on June 20.

I’m wondering why we even bother to cite seasonal start dates at all. In California, it didn’t suddenly feel like fall at 12:01 a.m. on September 22 (I hope no one got out their tweed suits just yet unless they aspired to perish while simultaneously itch and sweat).