Another day another dollar, as the saying goes.
Except for most of us, it's the same old dollar. Crumpled and dog-eared, torn in half and taped back together again, an indecipherable phrase scrawled across Washington's head in ballpoint pen, it's not an evergreen greenback.
Frankly, I'm not even sure the printed valuation "ONE" on its reverse still equals, you know, "one."
But for some people, of course, it's actually another day another million dollars. These people are new money, literally, since those million dollar bills simply did not exist the day before.
Crisp, crinkly, fresh from the presses with no Swastika or any other incendiary icon scribbled on George's forehead, theirs is the kind of cash that only comes in metal suitcases and is immediately deposited into private vaults before it can be manhandled.
Not that I begrudge the rich their private bank vaults. After all, the accumulation of wealth is not a zero-sum game, although it does become unfairly lopsided when prices keep increasing and most people's income remains as stagnant as a greasy puddle at the bottom of a forgotten city drain.
Mind you, we are moving to a cashless society, or so I'm told, which the Bible-thick wad of credit card receipts in my wallet would certainly seem to confirm. Then we'll be saying "Another day another Bitcoin receipt recorded on the barcode implanted in the palm of my hand."
Or, at least according to those miserable futurists predicting a barter economy of menial tasks, workers of the world will shuffle from gig to gig muttering "Another day another dog walk exchanged for a window washing."
I think the key is to ensure you will be saying "Another day another something," and not just "Buddy can you spare a dime." After all, it's going to be the cashless society, remember, and nobody will have a dime, never mind a dollar.