Lately we have heard form some members of the one percent, which is somewhat surprising in that they, like mice, tend to prefer to remain hidden from plain view. The most recent examples of one percenters who just couldn’t remain silent were complaining about their bad press. One messenger warned the Pope that he had better not carry his anti-greed screed too far, otherwise donations could just have a way of falling off. (And we know what comes next: “Eh, padre, youse gotta nice church here; it would be a shame if sumpin’ were to happen to it.) The other was complaining that populist class warfare like is being espoused by populists can lead to another Kristallnacht (presumably he is referring to the possible breakage of his wine goblets, certainly a one percenter wouldn’t pull a Nazi reference out of his ass—er, what . . . oh, that was a Nazi reference, uh, okay).
Apparently some of the one percent are getting a little nervous about their bad press and, of course, the thin-skinned are the first to speak out, but playing the “Class Warfare Card” is just too much.
Name me a one percenter who hasn’t donated money to a politician with a message to keep his taxes low (raising ours is okay). Name one who hasn’t tacitly or explicitly worked to disenfranchise worker’s unions in the last twenty years. Name one who hasn’t donated money to conservative think tanks or conservative PACs who have been carrying their political water for them. Name one who has gone out of his way to not suppress working people’s wages.
In other words, the “One Percent” have been waging class war for the past 35 years and when people finally woke up and began to take notice, they scream “Class War! Class War!” while pointing to the people whose economic interests they have just soundly trounced in their secret class war.
I have a message for them: keep sweating. We will not let up until you are back in your place. We will let you keep your toys but if you continue trying to hold onto the obscene amount of power you have accrued through your class war, don’t blame me when somebody approaches you and comments “ Eh, youse gotta a nice thing going there, it’d be a shame if . . . ”