"...a money tree. It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer." - Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut
Why do we want a shit ton of money? Outside of paying for the necessities and living a fairly comfortable life, why do we want a shit ton of things and money that we can sit on like Conan the Barbarian guarding a bloody hill of conquered skulls?
More, more, and oh what the fuck let's have a little more still. How much money is too much money? At what point do you stop and go, "You know what, I'll be fine from here on out"?
We're racing to the grave with as much loot as we can carry with us, as if there's a scoreboard at the end waiting. And let's say there is. And let's also say that you're at the top. That's right, you did it!
Maybe you get into the Heaven VIP room! Yeah, nice work, you'll get to meet all of heaven's heavy hitters. Shmooze it up with Billy Mays the Oxyclean guy or some rich sap from the Titanic!
Wait! Colonel Sanders just came up to you and invited you to Heaven's champagne room! Imagine all the rich strippers! They don't even need your money. They'll dance for you for free! Of course, you think, that's why Colonel Sanders was so obsessed with thighs and breasts!
This is it! Yeah, now you're with the cream of the crop!
Then one of the strippers whispers something in your ear about a super, double-secret, uber rich group of people in Heaven. If there was anyone to have won at life, it was this group. They died with so much money it was used to embalm them. Their last remaining years of life made nurses rich, not due to the expensive care provided, but rather the incontinence causing them to literally shit money against their will.
Yes, this is the group you want to be a part of. Heaven's Hall of Fame. If your money could choke you during sex, you would perhaps be the happiest life form in the universe.
Then again, maybe there is no Heaven. So perhaps that pile of money you're guarding or seeking is all you have. Hold onto it, dammit. Hold onto the prize, or hold onto that quest for the prize.
Then when you die, we'll all gather around and say, "Jesus, that guy was rich as shit." And we'll all lightly chuckle because you were shitting money towards the end due to your incontinence.
And then we'll take all you had and mangle your money-pooping corpse for our own sport and amusement.