The first thing most people notice about me is the golden Palomino, Virginie Von Kentuckeree T-Bone, that I ride to all of my social and business engagements. But the second thing that everyone tends to notice are my golden teeth, cast from the finest dental gold in the Southern Hemisphere, where gold is considerably cheaper than the northerly half of the planet, unless you choose to deal with the dreaded and fabled Russians of the Mountains.
I will now let you in on a little secret. This is one of my most longest-standing and most recently-ended careers. You still have time to get in on the ground level.
For one reason or another, gold teeth have fallen off the popularity wagon in the past 75 years, save for amongst the most stylish of classes– the hip-hop artists and gypsies. The call for dental gold, however, has remained relatively steady as a result of these two important economic groups. In my experience, the decline of the gypsy population has directly correlated with the increase in the hip-hop artist population. (Budding scholars, I suggest a fruitful study!) Thus, being a gold wholesaler who retails solely to the dental community may not have been the most profitable endeavor, but it has provided a modest income that I have devoted to improving my personal gin distillery over the years. For those of you who do not live in a state with a limited number of state or county liquor enforcement officials, and/or lax liquor laws, you can perhaps consider putting your gold tooth money towards, oh, a gourmet mustard cellar or an exotic bee apiary. Invest in an Oregon clear-cut and put in a hops field is my personal opinion, barring your gin options, but don’t listen to me. I’m just the billionaire entrepreneur you aspire to be.
It’s a funny way I got into the field. Post WWII, as a young and idealistic anti-fascist, I found I could provide cheap South African gold to dentists who, pro bono, provided fillings to Jews, homosexuals, blacks, and errant Slavs who had survived the Nazi death camps. (Having built a successful Prohibition-era safari tour business in Africa, I often took time off from the safaris to explore the continent’s deep geologic offerings– a mineral safari, if you will.) I filled orders in the US, Europe, and throughout the Pacific, despite the lack of German aggression in the area. Altruist, though I am, once the refugee market played itself out, it was difficult to let go of the enterprise I had poured so much of my molten gold into. I decided to keep it up.
The details are better explained by Mr. Polly, my stalwart secretary, to whom I left most of the paperwork. And honestly, it was all paperwork once I’d perfected the chemical process of converting the metal to a liquid sans painful heat transfer or loss of structural integrity by means of adding liquidizing agents. (This is my own patented process and you are wise to avoid copying even the most rudimentary of steps, lest I sue you.)
All that aside, darling readers, you are welcome at my next backwoods gin and tooth filling bash.