That’s what this post is all about, money. You’ve got it and I want it. I’m talking at you Mister 1%. You with your big black Escalade, I be fiending on you. No matter how much you claim you produce, you’re just a net-oxygen consumer.
“The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Now give me money, that’s what I want, yeah!” – Money, Beatles
Medicare will go bankrupt when I am 70 years-old. Social Security will follow when I’m 79. I’ll be an old man and you’ll still be crying out for more tax cuts. I’m guessing that you will have stolen my 401K by then and looted my pension too, leaving me either destitute or dead, or both.
“Money, get away; get a good job with more pay and you’re okay. Money, it’s a gas. Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.” – Money, Pink Floyd
Thirty years ago, you Mister 1% were content to earn forty times your lowest paid employee. Now you’re only content with almost 400 times that same poor employee. You are probably on a first name basis with her by now and wish her “Good evening, Gladys”, on your way out the door. She of course replies with respect, “Good night, Mister 1%”.
“Money, money; lie for it, spy for it, kill for it, die for it.” – Money, Michael Jackson
The power of the purse is traditionally a ruling power. Purple is a royal color. There is a referendum this year, an election. Mister 1% has nominated one of his own, Mitt. The incumbant has been less than effectual, the banks are bigger, the rich are richer and the poor are poorer and more numerous, but do we have any other choice, or chance?