A Letter from Richie Rich

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177-11

To:  The Employees of Rich Enterprises, Inc.

From:  Richie Rich, President and CEO

My loyal employees,

There is no other way to say it, so I’ll just say it.  We are broke.  I unwisely invested all our company’s funds with Bernard Madoff, and now the money is now gone, never to return.  As of January 1, 2009, Rich Enterprises is no more.  You are all without a job, healthcare and pension.  And for this I am terribly sorry.

I was always known as “the poorest little rich boy,” but today, that is literally true.  I have nothing.  Every asset has been liquidated.  My gold racecar that runs on cash has been sold.  My dollar-sign shaped swimming pool filled with diamonds has been drained.  I have had to fire my beloved butler, Cadbury, and he is now the personal valet of Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg.  Such is my poverty that I have had to shave the signature dollar sign fur pattern off my thusly-named dog.

Believe me, I have tried every option to avoid this catastrophe.  I appealed to my cousin and longtime rival, Reggie Van Dough, for a loan, but he too was heavily invested with Madoff.  Tragically, Reggie took his own life by riding his emerald-encrusted skate board under the deadly tank treads of Irona, my robot maid.  Best wishes, Reggie.  I hope you’re with Casper now.

I reached out to Riverdale, in hopes of a bail-out from Mr. Lodge.  But all of Lodge’s money is tied up in his son-in-law Archie Andrews’ still-unfinished Las Vegas casino-condominium-upscale dining and shopping complex, The Veronica.  And with billions in bonds coming due in third quarter 2009, I honestly doubt it will ever be completed.

I even swallowed my pride and I sent a telegram to Scrooge McDuck, beseeching him for aid.  But I have heard no reply.  Although we laughed at old Scrooge for hoarding his pennies in a money bin, that miser of a mallard has had the last quack after all.

Where did I go wrong?  You don’t need to be a Professor Keanbean to realize that I got greedy.  And lazy.  We all did.   I thought the good times would last forever.  However, this is not to let Madoff off the hook.  I hope Hot Stuff himself will be poking him with his pitchfork for all eternity.

So this is it.  Gone are the days of cracking an egg to see the dollar sign-shaped yolk, playing see-saw with sacks of gold coins, or using comically large jewels to make the face on a snowman.

But I do not want to sound like a Sad Sack.  In these troubled times, friendship is more important than ever.  My old friends Pee-wee and Freckles have opened their shack to me.  Little Lotta, Little Dot, Little Audrey, and even Baby Huey have taken donated an impressive selection of dry and canned foodstuffs.  Thank you all.  If we can take anything from this crisis, perhaps it is that we should not look for happiness in the illusory financial numbers on a computer screen, but in the strength of our connections to our fellow man.

I humbly remain (thanks to a recent S.E.C. ruling taking my very name)

Poorie Poor

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