Economists like to classify the population of the United States from a
range of poor to rich with a lot of middle class niches between them.
We happily go along with these ratings because we like to feel
superior. I believe the real truth is not based on currency and
property but power and influence. Taken the population then divides
into the Capitalist Kings, those that run major industry and determine
their own path. Next come the Political Princes, these are the ones
that sit and determine the path for the rest of us, the Populace
Paupers.
Since the United States crossed the Hudson River in it’s
expansion to California, the power of self dtermination has evaporated.
We no longer mark out a plot of land and subsist. We are told what we
can spend and where we can spend it and how much we are allowed to
spend. Choices have become totally illusionary. The last vestige came
about in the twenties and the institution of the temporary tax to
support the war effort. This tax is the demarcation in history when we
stopped controlling our earnings. You realize now that I am talking
about the income tax. After the war when we did not burn down city hall
or march on Washington, the Political Princes came to realize their
power. The Populace Paupers no longer had control of earnings. Ding,
ding, ding the silver ball carooms into the wall and bumper racking up
power points for the Political Princes.
Next came Prohibition, a
small test to see how far the Princes could dictate our leisure time
and see what happens. If it wasn’t for organized crime profiting from
the legal deprivation we could now have grown up without ever knowing
about the pleasure of a little buzz. Illegal profiteering had to be
stopped. Not only was there revenues that they could tap but anarchy
was about to destroy the fledgling beauracracy of the the Little
Princes. Their comfortable niche was being threatened. Too lazy to work
among us and too stupid to create a business, their very existence
relied on our complacency. So let them get drunk. Ding, ding, ding the
silver ball drops a little down from the top hanging onto the side. The
Princes saw a chance to solidify their positions. Investment ran wild
people obviously had too much money. Investing in the markets and
profiting, the unknowing Paupers were creating wealth. They could
possibly join the ranks of the Capitalist Kings further reducing the
rank of the Political Princes. Tada, bells and whistles going off, the
lights flashing and distracting until the Princes pulled the rug out
from us. TILT the great depression. Even those not invested were
affected. The Princes taught them a lesson. Absolutely no longer any
self determination. The Paupers were taught how ignorant and dependent
on the Princes we had become. Like the Roman Empire we were given bread
and circuses, this time bread lines and Hollywood.
We would have
been stuck in this doldrum forever but the second world war intruded on
our complacency. We could nationalize a goal. We could make money. The
Princes, were now ducking and hiding. None of them wanted to be
noticed. This was going to well for them, as long as we didn’t lose.
Our focus was now for the greater good with rationing and the Princes
exclusion from the depravation the Paupers willingly accepted it for
the common good.
So now we bounce along dropping and rising but
stuck on a playing field neither going back nor dropping through the
hole. The Princes are now drunk with their power. War on poverty, war
on drugs, war on Saddam, and we lose each because we cannot concentrate
on any one thing. We just go where we are told and do what we have been
trained to do, eat, drink, and watch TV. Now the hole at the bottom of
the table Is beckoning. The Princes have spent our inheritance by
diluting Social Security to nothing but figures on a spreadsheet. Now
they are moving to lock in their power and position by imposing $10,000
of debt on every man woman and child with the $700 billion dollar bail
out. I am sure the Capitalist Kings are thanking them for this gift.
Is
this the last go on this table? If I only didn’t care about the
perception of me as a gelatinous slug leaving a slime trail throughout
the world, I’d run for office. I wouldn’t even need a honeymoon period
to lose my naïveté. I already know the game. Oh well, down to the
bowels of the table waiting for someone to put another quarter in the
machine. Ding-a-ling, ding everybody.