Life Hack: Millionaire Podcaster Says ALL Men Should Own a Lamborghini in Their Twenties
DAILY MAIL — A podcaster has been slammed online after he claimed all men in their twenties should own a Lamborghini because $200,000 is nothing more than 'chump change'.
Sebastian Ghiorghiu, 24, from Detroit, alleges to have made $8m in just six years through various sources of income - including setting up a Google ad agency, flipping houses and making YouTube videos.
On top of this, the entrepreneur - who boasts 825,000 subscribers - also has made money through his dropshipping companies. Dropshippers act as the 'middleman' between a business and a customer by accepting orders without keeping any stock or handling the product.
In the viral clip, which has amassed over 2.4m views, Sebastian said:
'If you're a guy in your twenties and you don't have a Lamborghini, you should actually sit down and have like a serious discussion with yourself as to why you don't have a Lambo.
I had a sit-down discussion with myself earlier this morning as to why I didn't have a Lamborghini in my twenties and to be honest with you I didn't really have a good answer for myself. It was all just a bunch of excuses it felt like. "Nobody told me to." "I didn't have a lot of positive role-models on YouTube growing up." "My dad wasn't around to teach me how to dropship fake Jordans from the Guangdong province to dumb white kids in Dayton Ohio at a 250% markup." Frankly, it was embarrassing.
But when the interview was over and I regained my composure, I thought more about that first response — "nobody told me to." Why? Why didn't anybody teach me that all men in their twenties should own a Lambo? It's so…simple. It's so REAL. All I had to do, at any point, was just, buy a lamborghini. Yet here I am, a little broke bitch beta-boy watching this 24-year-old dropshipping Detroit podcaster do metaphorical donuts around me.
If this doesn't highlight the failings of the American education system I don't know what does. I just think about all the things I learned instead over 18 years of school. 18 years! 18 years of my life spent at a desk, looking up at an adult — a teacher — whose professional duty was to educate me and impart onto me the knowledge I would need to make it in the world and thrive as an adult.
Every day I’d get on a big yellow bus and spend the next 6 hours being taught how to read, taught how to write and how to spell things, how to name the planets in the sky and the fish in the sea, taught how to make a soda bottle full of baking soda and vinegar erupt out of my paper-mâché volcano and pretend its lava.
Then it started to cost a lot of money to be taught things — and one thing I did manage to pick up on my own was, the higher the price, the better the thing was, and the more it made you better than everyone else. Judging from the price tag it seemed reasonable to conclude that this "liberal arts education" I was being pitched contained some of the most valuable things someone could ever be taught. So I learned how to read critically, write cogently, think broadly, and create the habits of mind for a lifetime of learning — what a liberal arts education does, which I just had to look up, because I still didn't know.
What did those fuckers teach me? The pros and cons of the Aventador vs. the Huracán? Fuck no! I got a semester of British Literature Before 1660 and a credit in Animals in Early Modern Drama. What kind of sage advice did they bestow upon me, the best the pussy-acquiring potential of a matte black Murcielago? Close — that if I take this Gender and Sexuality in Native American Literature course I could get my hands on a rolled-up piece of paper that would be my springboard into the job market and launch me into a successful career bussing tables at the Panda Express of my choosing in the closest metropolitan suburb.
No idea how a stock market works. No clue what a mortgage is. No basic life skills. No Lambo.
If you want someone to read you the epic account of Beowulf slaying the monster Grendel in the original Old English of the Anglo-Saxon era pre-Norman Invasion, I got you. Looking to wash the taste of those corrosive stereotypes in Pocahontas out of your mouth with more accurate contemporary issues? I can point you to the powerful autobiographical accounts of Wilma Mankiller and Mary Brave Bird. I'll pick you up. What do I drive? Whatever Muhammed picks me up in after I wait 3 hours for surge pricing to be over. All that time and money spent on "an expansive intellectual grounding in humanistic inquiry" paid off if that's how you define living the big baller life.
If you're more of a "$300K car that goes 400 miles an hour when you're 24 years old" guy then you're better off talking to Sebastian the fucking podcasting sneaker salesman.
