America has become, in effect if not in actual acknowledged fact, an oligarchy. A tiny percentage of us are so wealthy as to have become invisible. We’ll never meet one of them; we’ll never cross paths with one of them; and we’ll never, ever rub elbows with one of them. They live so high above the rest of us as to be kin with the ancient Gods of Mount Olympus.
What else can you say of the one-tenth of one percent who regard $15 million as petty cash; who will fund a $150 million political action campaign to resist being required to pay their gardener a $15 minimum hourly wage.
That’s not so bad in itself. Where we’ve suffered the total democratic meltdown and the perversion of our governmental process is due to the milling pack of political swine who rushed to the trough to get their share of that PAC money. The pigs fatten themselves while the gardener and his family goes hungry.
So the next time I hear of the exalted state of the “job creator” class, I’ll recall the simple dictum: fifteen, one-fifty, and fifteen: $15 million pocket money for them, $150 million for the political pigs, and $15 hourly wage that the gardener will never see.