Before I became rich, I assumed rich people just looked out the windows of their Hollywood Hills homes, eating truffled popcorn and congratulating themselves on being smart enough to go into the lucrative field of journalism. But it turns out there's a lot of guilt involved. Sure, most of the time I'm jealous of the 3% of Americans who make more money than I do, with their tacky, slightly more expensive cars and their gaudy, slightly bigger diamond rings. But sometimes I feel bad for the 97%. And I want everyone to know I feel bad. Not bad enough to give...
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