There was always one catch. The recipient of the check could tell no one _ other than a spouse _ how he or she got the dough, under penalty of forfeiting whatever might be left.
Some folks thrived, but others found nothing but misery from their newfound bounty. And, I suppose, John Beresford Tipton’s investigations into those people’s lives would probably brand him as a stalker today.
Still, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have the resources to anonymously give a million dollars to a hard-working waitress or a guy who stayed late at work when he didn’t have to so you could buy your kid a last-minute present?
Or to anonymously take care of the car-repair bills of someone drowning in debt or see to it that a grandmother could be generous to her grandchildren and still be able to see a doctor when something hurts?
Why would anyone want to be president when he could be John Beresford Tipton?
Yubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum.
Sam Pollak is the editor of The Daily Star. Contact him at email@example.com.