In a city where the skyline is a glimmering homage to affluent despair, the annual "Wealth and Woe" tour has commenced, enchanting both the rich and the curious alike. Participants, equipped with designer binoculars and organic kale smoothies, can marvel at the juxtaposition of opulence and suffering, all while savoring artisanal chocolates infused with hand-harvested tears of the less fortunate. The tour's first stop, the Gilded Heights Financial District, features towering glass edifices that blot out the sun for nearby homeless communities. Tour guides regale visitors with tales of the wealthy elite who have summoned their fortunes from the air-conditioned recesses of their penthouses. "Look closely," one guide says, pointing toward a high-rise. "That’s where a billionaire recently rewrote the sad ending of his life story—by buying an entire island and renaming it 'Elysium.' To him, poverty is just an unfortunate location on the map!" Next, participants board a fleet of luxury golf carts, complete with plush leather seats, for a scenic drive through the Smogford Neighborhood, where the air is thick with both pollution and the scent of despair. Here, attendees were treated to an interactive experience: fake news broadcasts play on portable screens, detailing the latest philanthropic efforts of local magnates who, during this season of giving, have pledged a whole 0.05% of their unimaginable wealth to a community struggling with food insecurity. Bravo! The highlight of the event, according to several attendees, is a visit to the “Wealth Redistribution Exhibit”—a sprawling gallery where art is displayed not just for its aesthetic value but as a reflection of society's inequities. Here, attendees can view a sculpture made entirely of donated clothing from the city’s most generous millionaires, titled “Almost There but Not Quite,” which features a life-sized replica of a nearby park bench made entirely from the discarded dreams of the impoverished. When asked about the event’s goal, a prominent local investor shared his insight: "This tour isn't just about showcasing wealth; it's about creating a dialogue. We want to discuss how the rich can continue to thrive while throwing the impoverished a few crumbs every now and then. After all, are we not all just one well-timed investment away from our own personal savior complex?" The tour culminates with a lavish cocktail party at the Ritz Royale, where the elite mingle and exchange pleasantries while sipping champagne from crystal flutes and nibbling on mini quiches, all the while pretending not to hear the distant cries of struggle from the city streets below. One attendee noted excitedly, "I can't remember the last time I felt this much empathy while also being surrounded by such exquisite wealth!" In a final flourish, guests are treated to a heartfelt speech by the city's mayor, who pledged to take a long, hard look at the conditions of the overlooked neighborhoods—sometime next year. And as the tour wraps up at sunset, participants leave with goodie bags filled with plush toys representing the various socioeconomic classes, cleverly labeled "Cuddle the Poor Away," ensuring not just a night of entertainment but a sense of moral superiority to take home. As the glittering lights of the affluent district flicker on, the echo of laughter and the sounds of clinking glasses drown out the distant moans of hardship below, proving one resounding truth in this city of woes: If wealth could speak, it might just say, “To each their own despair—but do remember to have fun while you can!”