Tomorrow We Dance To Freedom

Party with Your Favorite Oligarch

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Island hoppers were arriving in their extravagant sea ships. Beauties jumped onto the gangplank with jewels dangling between luscious tanned cleavages. Their Masters of the Universe slithered with a laser locked swagger towards the Favor Pit.

Just a barbeque pit where most deals were consummated this annual event attracted the cream of the Oligarch class. Money, islands, yachts, transfers of harems, crates of drugs; it had become a supreme orgy of unquenched power.

This year was to represent the pinnacle of debauchery compliments of those naughty Supreme Court Justices. Get them out of those robes and on the money littered crystal dance floor those elderly savors of absolute decadence could really spin a mean tango.

Private jets were flying in low in a procession of sliver that might sink the island’s tiny airport from the sheer weight taxiing to one end of the terminal. Limos had lined up past the rotten roach infested shacks of the fishermen. Derelict wrecks bobbed quietly back behind a tangle of mango. These remnants of past happiness were now reminders of poisoned fish, toxic oil tars, and an ocean that was now devoid of life.

What party is complete without a compliment of politicians to be bribed? Those toothy white stars were now arriving complements of income starved taxpayers. Man, when these sages of inferiority cut loose there was no telling what there little minds would cook up. Last year a contingent of these revelers from one of the wealthier countries brought shoulder balanced rocket launchers that were used in a contest to blow up the rusty scows plowing the nearby shipping lane.

Cash deals could now reach beyond the big-bang showering all in a rainbow of fireworks. Deals extraordinaire could now be made. No more fearing the sniveling classes that scrapped the bottom of the income ladder. Their governments were now firmly torn from them by the talons of a global Corporatist power. They’ll soon experience a new kind of fear – imposed silence – complete subservience.

Just impose a substantial dose of spy agency invasion of privacy to catalog their every little flicker of indiscretion in mammoth data warehouses – they’ll then work quietly in a hive with the other worker bees. Freedom requiring the finer spiritual qualities like empathy, kindness, understanding, and fairness was a quaint concept in a world dominated by power and money.

All the butlers and maids were properly screened so that “People’s Movement” infiltrators wouldn’t popup turning the deal making fun into a serious business of police roundups. Nothing could squash a glorious frolic in frivolity and sensuous gorging like a twist in reality – let these bums crawl back to their caves.

In the morning high-frequency traders were going to glorify all the loot piled high in newly opened Swiss accounts with inside track quick millions earned on their high rollers network.

No saving the guests from themselves – they were mere shells of a lost humanity.