ONCE UPON A TIME in the Woodland there lived a rich man named Midas.
Midas had the Golden Touch.
Okay, Gold-Plated touch is more like it, since Midas had amassed his fortune by making stuff from the cheapest material he could find then gold-plating the dickens out of it. Nonetheless, everything he touched became very, very shiny.
One day, Midas decided to gold-plate the dickens out of a boat.
He hired boat builders to build the biggest, most luxurious-looking boat anyone had ever seen, using only the crappiest material, then to gold-plate every nautical inch of the thing, stem to stern, crow's nest to keel. And to lay it on extra thick.
Midas named the boat Icarus because, well, because he was a little fuzzy on his Greek mythology.
He held a press conference to announce that he would be inviting only the A-est of Woodland's A-List to join him for the Icarus's maiden voyage. This, naturally, set off a flurry of publicity about and kissing up to Midas.
Finally, the big day finally arrived. As the select few who'd been selected went up the red-carpeted gangplank, each got a gift bag of gold-plated goodies that included a 1/32-scale model of the Icarus, an anchor-shaped keychain and a hefty jewelry box, made with leftover iron from the ship’s anchor and stuffed with gift certificates to swanky hotels, resorts, casinos, spas and restaurants that Midas owned a piece of.
Midas's current wife christened the boat by breaking a bottle of overpriced champagne over its bow.
Nobody noticed the crack it made.
The crowd gathered on the dock cheered right on cue as the Icarus pulled away and headed across Woodland's harbor, glistening in the sunlight as it sailed toward the open sea.
Just as it passed the outer lighthouse, however, the crack in its bow split wide open and water began rushing in.
Fortunately, everyone made it into the lifeboats before the Icarus went under. Unfortunately, the lifeboats were just as badly made as the rest of the ship and now, filled with swells refusing to let go of their swag, went down like a gift bag of hammers.
A few of the passengers got back to shore using their trophy wives as floatation devices but most went down with the ship.
Midas was among the survivors and at the investigation claimed the incident was an "Act of God"; specifically, Neptune, god of the sea. Amazingly, this worked. Midas was found not liable for the sinking and went on to star as himself in two of the three movies made about the incident.
Last we heard, he was buying a blimp.
Moral: Not everything that glitters is worth holding onto, much less gold.