In a recent questionnaire geared toward America’s richest people, close to all have responded positively to having dropped out of college prematurely. At a round-table discussion, three billionaires disclosed their thoughts on the subject.

“I was in college when I began my company,” said Michael Dell, who was enrolled at the University of Texas when he founded Dell Computers, “but there was something so much more satisfying about earning money than reading Hawthorne for the millionth time.”

Mr. Dell isn’t alone. It seems that most self-made billionaires drop out of college due to either a really innovative idea of theirs taking off or simply from boredom of not being challenged.

“I think about college sometimes,” said Harvard University dropout Bill Gates, “when I have some time to think in my private jet taking me from my home in Malibu to my home in Jupiter Island. I think, ‘Maybe I should have gotten my degree,’ but then the jet lands and I forget what I was thinking about.”

“I reminisce about college sometimes too,” said Mark Zuckerberg, who also dropped out of Harvard University to become a billionaire with Facebook. “But only if the person I pay to tickle my balls all day with panda fur loses steam and has to rest his wrist for a while.”

“Panda fur?” Gates asked incredulously. “Who does Panda fur? Are you on welfare or some shit? No, have your guy tickle your balls with the feather of a Madagascar Pochard; it’s the world’s rarest bird. Your balls will appreciate the difference.”

“What are you guys talking about,” Dell asked.

“I’ve tried the Madagascar Pochard,” said Zuckerberg, “and it’s all hype. You’re drinking the Kool-Aid, Bill. Panda fur has been so rare for so long that it’s become a classic for ball-tickling.”

“I have a moon rock,” said Dell.

“Not if you use it right,” said Bill angrily, ignoring Mr. Dell. “You have to have your ball-tickler guy use the feather right. Is he going up the middle of your sack with the edge of the feather or is he side-swiping like it’s got a mouth full of Listerine?”

“He was going up the middle,” said Mark.

“I got a special tour of N.A.S.A last year, yes sir,” said Dell as he reached in his pocket to pull out the moon rock.

“Oh, there’s your problem,” said Bill. “You can’t have your ball-tickler going up the inseam like some kind of back-alley surgeon; you’re gonna wake up in a tub full of ice with your kidney missing with ball-ticklers like that! Who trained your ball-tickler, Corky from Life Goes On? No, get an experienced ball-tickler and have him use the Pochard feather.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Mark ponderously.

“I know I’m right,” said Bill. “I’ve been a billionaire for a long time, using many things to tickle my balls on a daily basis, from velvet lace to powdered Neanderthal jawbone, and I’m telling you—Pochard feather.”

Michael Dell was prepared to show his moon rock to Mark and Bill, but they had left for Madagascar to get Mark his Pochard feather.

They took their own respective jets.


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