Tomorrow We Dance To Freedom






Another America - A Business Kingdom

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Seeing the abject poverty moving in animated distress through the streets of his city made John very uncomfortable. He was always of the opinion that those who weren't working were essentially failures unworthy of recognition in a system that provided everyone with unlimited opportunities. To compound his discomfiture he was now seeing uniformed relics of a war that he supports sleeping under cardboard blankets beneath bridges where he used to jog by - that was before these apparitions started accumulating in ever-greater numbers. Why didn't his buddies in the Defense Department simply ship these useless dregs out for enough tours of duty until they were completely expended? It just occurred to him that he'd have to increase his oil investments because that war was providing the hefty returns that were originally envisioned - with its continual festering of wounds in an already troubled Middle East.

Or better yet the government could just send in the National Guard to round up these deviants that were cluttering his choice outdoor spaces. Clearly, someone of his stature within the community was exceedingly more significant than these dredges that harbored ill will towards him and his fellow wealthy patrons of society. Didn't these creatures realize that he and his friends represented the refined crust of an American society already crumbling with mold? Why weren't the lobbyists that he paid good money to vanquishing this scum from his city? He resolved that he would contact Sandy Duncan tomorrow about how she hadn't been fulfilling her end of the bargain since his funding of her campaign. He had enough of her pandering to those idiots who thought that they had elected her, she would do his bidding or else he would disconnect the spigot of money that was flowing into her campaign war chest.

Since the closing of the local food bank it was even difficult to stop his Mercedes at a stop light without someone rushing towards his car attempting to clean the windows with rag and sprayer in hand. Did they really expect him to give them one penny in support of this nasty nuisance? One day he even had to open his window to extricate this scum from his car because he just started coughing uncontrollably all over his car. Granted this credent probably hadn't had any medical attention since he came back from Iraq (was wearing some worn out uniform) and possibly was exposed to something that ruined his lungs but why did he have to befoul his brilliantly clean car? Anyway, at least he made it to the fund-raiser for his favorite of the two bought-out political parties, for he really enjoyed the $5,000 evenings because they always flew in a top chef from New York who prepared the most exquisite delicacies.

Just yesterday his employees were demanding a raise even though he had informed the miscreants that they'd better 'toe the line' or else those foreign workers he'd been shipping in from India would replace more of them. What were these slobs thinking given the demands that were being placed upon his bottom line by investors; clearly he'd scaled down his life style. He wasn't even able to fly the corporate jet to the Riviera three times a year and could now only afford two visits per year.

Did they really consider that he'd give them a raise; he hadn't done it in 4 years - so why now? He was going to have to contact his HR manager tomorrow in order to draw up another list of terminations that would surely put the fear of god into those uncooperative serfs.

Also, his quota of H1-B foreign workers was getting dangerously close to being exhausted therefore he'd also have to visit that committee up in the House of Representatives and impress upon these most compliant stooges that he simply needed a higher quota of foreign workers next quarter. They could delight their constituents with their marvelously espoused gospel readings from the book of 'The Free Market" while they cut their financial throats - that always worked wonders on that bunch of intellectually lazy working scum. They'd believe anything the media pumped down their throats - for that matter they'd been kicked around so much they reminded him of a dog that he once owned that would continually walk back towards him in its submissive slump ready to be booted once more by his strong swift leg.