Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos each have their own aerospace company that designs and builds rockets. I want one of those too.
An official sized, 50 meter by 25 meter, Olympic pool. I also want starting blocks, the best lane lines, the works. Indoor of course so I can swim year round.
Two things.
First, a house that had a very normal-looking living space above-ground. Three bedrooms, two baths, nice kitchen. Nothing that looked like burglar bait, though. However, it would have a huge underground structure to it. Indoor tennis court, bowling alley, possibly a swimming pool (but, at the very least, a hot tub), billiard room with a wet bar and a dart board, and a state-of-the-art movie theater.
Second, a private train, if I could afford to make that happen. Traveling the country in style!
I know I said everyone could define frivolous for themselves. I was, of course, lying.
That is NOT frivolous, damn it! It’s clearly an investment, plus it’s freaking Robert Anson Heinlein.
Sex slave.
Well, the alligators would be trained, so I wouldn’t consider them pests.
The government of a small third-world country.
:: evil hat on ::
Alligators are not trainable, as better men than you have learned to their sorrow. Little reptile brains.
:: evil hat off ::
Must you?
:: nerd hat on ::
I would have thought all the cities that interested you would have fallen ages and ages and ages ago.
Okay, so the nerd hat doesn’t actually come off.
Trivial things - air conditioning, someone to fix all the niggling things in the house I haven’t had time to fix, a new lawn and a gardener.
And someone to finish indexing my books and put the index on the web. I have reading copies of all the Heinlein juveniles already, in the Ace editions, and I prefer quantity to quality anyhow.
But the real frivolous thing is a trip to the space station, assuming they think my heart can take it. Most of the science fictional things from my youth have come true except space travel for the average person.
An island.
Seconded. The back page of this month’s Kiplinger had an interview with a guy who mentioned that he’d bought a seat on a sub-orbital flight for $200,000, so with my $100 million, I could do that once or twice a year for the rest of my life and still have plenty left over for more practical things. And if suborbitals get old in a couple of years, I’m sure they’ll have private rich-people space tourism developed soon.
Nothing for myself, just whatever my wife and kids want.
I must, but I promise I would treat her well. And anyway I only buy free-range sex slaves.
Frivolous? Something like an 8 speed Omafiets. I think they are SO. NEAT. LOOKING. Even though they’re not that practical where I am (hilly.)
Or a bike built just for me.
(I’m on the bike a lot these days.)
I’m so glad you asked this question.
I would give to the City of L.A. whatever it costs to sheathe the domes of Griffith Observatory in gold, and maintain it. Do I even have to ask you to imagine how glorious it would look on a clear day?
Besides it would probably provide good protection for the underlying structure.
This house:
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/637-N-Batavia-Avenue_Batavia_IL_60510_1105840828
And then spend the same amount in fixing the atrocious “renovations” the previous owners had done. I’d return it to it’s original state as intended by Wright. I’d also have furniture custom made to match that of the furniture originally built for the house.
And an Edsel. Just because I could.
Permanent hair removal.
Seems to me that with a good stone or brick fence, surrounding just that little acre you talked about, you can let the kitties wander about freely.
I want a room of Legos. Connected to a workshop with machine tools and injection-moulding equipment and CAD systems so that I could design my own.
Property with multiple buildings with secret underground passageways connecting each one.