As the Prophet Peter Sellers said, as President Murky Muffley in "Dr. Strangelove": Look, I'm capable of being just as sorry as you, Dmitri." And I am. I can be really sorry--sorry sight, sorry attitude, sorry excuse for a...you get the idea. But I'm not an empathy-deficient assmonkey, preying upon the voiceless while giggling all the way to the bank.
That's a job for Jamie Dimon, ALEC, the Koch Brothers, CrossRoads GPS, American CrossRoads, Fox News, and a ton of elected Republicans. (And the worst homage of "The Avengers" EH-ver!) They're more like an ARMEY of ROVErs, winging it to the Right-- always the Right--searching for little mice to snatch from the ever-shrinking field of Middle Class America. (See what I did there with the whole "vulture capitalist" thingy?)
And as their lack-of-standards bearer they have chosen WMR, as it reads on all his personal belongings, shorthand for "What, Me Reimburse"? Our little Willard A.(in't) Human has no more problem pillaging than does our misspelled, misguided gemstone, Mr. Dimon. And yes, they both have lots of inclusions...just not you and me and the rest of the 99.9999999 percent.
These super rich, super powerful folk are a combination of the following "rules": No Returns, Service Fee Applicable, Post No Bills, No Shirt/No Shoes/No Service, Long-haired Freaky People Need Not Apply, Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight, You Can't Always Get What You Want, and Bitch Make Sandwich. We rabble it seems, are gnats to be swatted at, street corner windshield washers to be avoided, little brown piles of what your doggie had for lunch yesterday to be stepped over. (After all, you can't spell POOR without POO!)
Unless it's Election Time. You see ET, as we'll call it, is when the THEMS of the world actually remember to "phone home" for our support. "Happy Voters' Day, weakling. Since you aren't dead yet, you think you might be able to tax your intsy mind long enough to drag your diabetic ass to the polls and vote for me?" They do know a lot about taxing us, but of course that is the stuff of the plebeians. The landed gentry manage not to get shit on them, as it turns out, even though they have all the horses. Because if they had to pay taxes those horsies might not be able to create new jobs for all the stable and unstable boys out there just praying to Jesus for the day when they can take a pitchfork out to the corral.
Not paying taxes is a big thing, but it isn't the thing that makes them so special. No, that would be the whole oops-we-fucked-up-and-now-you-all-have-to-pay-for-it, also known as more picking up of the shit. Jaime Dimon can blow (does blow) $2 billion and keep on being "Wall Street's Best Banker". Try snatching $2 out of the cash drawer at the 7-11 and see how long you stay employed. WMR (weapons of mass reduction) can swoop in and steal jobs and pensions--entire factories as a matter of fact--and he gets to taut such activities in his run for the Presidency of the United States of America. And we let him. We let the corporate media tell us what we think of what they say and what we should do or better yet not do about it. And that, kiddies, is how assholes become President. (I refer you to SCOTUS 2000 and Swiftboat 2004, respectively but never respectfully.)
My favorite tactic is when the Chief Executioner Offensers make the case that their company just cannot survive unless those nasty old "legacy costs" are reigned in. This is another way of stealing pensions, just a more transparent one. Those CEOs never get around to saying why it is the dying, sickly business still has the strength (and the cash) to hand out millions in bonuses. Obviously money is choosy: It only likes to date the guy who promises to take it on vacations a lot...to Switzerland and the Caymans. Money is SO shallow! And don't even get me started on Fame...I always forget its name anyway.
(CUE THE SPOOKY, DREAM-STATE MUSIC OF THE FLASH-FORWARD...)
But I really should try to look on the bright side of a Romney presidency, and whenever they let us come up to the surface for air, I'll do just that. (Course the air will be toxic and the gas masks will cost a literal arm-and-a-leg because we can always use a reminder about the "dignity of breathing".) The rich make all those awful decisions for us so we don't have to think. They count all the money so we don't have to run the risk of paper cuts. And they set the laws and agenda of the nation so we can stay off the streets and out of trouble. It's dangerous out there, after all, what with no unions because there's no collective bargaining, so there are no longer any police to keep the peace.
And peace. There's a novelty. Finally Halliburton has eclipsed their old nemesis Bell Helicopter--who couldn't keep Vietnam going for a decade "like we did with Afghanistan"--by actually, officially running the Pentagon. It's a dodecahedron now and has the shiniest front door you've ever seen. The back door's just a facade though, like the mental health care you get when they kick you out of it, I'm guessing.
Romneyland Theme Park just opened outside of Washington, RNC--it has four castes, I mean sections of amusements available:
FANTASYLAND: Here you will ride on the backs of the 99% and nosh on human caviar--so much for the whole pro-life gig. And if you have to ask how to get in, you never will.
TOMORROWLAND: Creepier still than Fantasyland, this is where the poor sap millionaires who think they are just a day away from entree into the greater kingdom ride in rickshaws as they beat their workers while dining on the salt of their own tears.
ADVENTURELAND: This is the largest section of the park but you can be sure it is no where near the Middle! Here you ride treadmills until you graduate up to moving sidewalks which somehow always manage to turn you out onto an escalator which only goes down. The food is all circular: onion rings, (these are) pancakes, doughnut (holes), and gold-wrapped candy coins...because Romney loves irony!
NEVERNEVERLAND: More of a petting zoo, really, this section of the park features a replica of "Motel Hell" on one side--complete with Phyllis Diller and Slim Pickens lookalikes--and a Soylent Green factory on the other. Inbetween you'll find the zoo itself with all the pasty, barely alive heads, their necks broken (so don't pet too hard) stuck into the ground like bodyless scarecrows. And if you don't like the taste of Soylent Green no worries, there's LOTS of sausage being made here. Everyone gets a free admission to this section, though it seems to be so popular that many never come out the other end. Expect a wait of one lifetime.
(MAKE THE MUSIC GO AWAY PLEASE, I WISH TO GIVE UP NOW.)
But that will never happen, right? The American People are a smart, well-informed lot. They won't let one side lie to them and another tell them to vote for Ralph Nader, Ron Paul, Buddy Roemer or some such foolishness, both of which amount to the same thing. And if THEY allow us to have a horse in this race, I'm riding the dark horse, the guy with the blue blanket. He may be a little gimpy now and again, but at least with him we're on the track. And if it's a dogtrack--Seamus forbid!--I'd just as soon be the greyhound and not the rabbit , or the carrot in front of the rabbit, or the GMO-modified seed in front of the carrot, or the scortched Monsanto earth under the seed, or the toxic groundwater under the earth, or the poor creatures forced to labor under whatever exists beneath the aquifers. May we never find out!
Then again, between Boehner's spray tan empire and Romney's mantle mining, we would purge mankind of the scourge of melanoma. Melanoma and joy.
...and we'd learn to stop worrying and love the bomb.
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