If I were you

If I were you, I would go to a bar in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and dance on a table top. I would write tracts bemoaning the demise of the beach party movie. I would incorporate as a city of one and run for cat-catcher. I would carve replicas of Trump Tower and sell them on the streets of New York. I would write a book about the sex lives of famous mathematicians. I would become the lead singer of a marginally competent neo-psychedelic rock band called The Hinges. I would write a chain letter to the Pope. I would organize a community group to build a 50-foot high salad. These are the things I would do, if I were you. That does not mean, however, I think you should do them. Far from it.