Picking on cripples again

Dear Dr. Bones,

Here is what I just sent to _The Louisedayhicksville Tar & Feathers_

So: Mikeyboy has sunk to packie-bashin’. I hope Mom is proud of her little laddie’s obstruction of small entrepreneurships just trying to make a killing in bad times. And in bad neighborhoods. [*] Happy days. === [*] But seriously:

The rest is footnote, as far as the kiddiecons are concerned.

I am not certain that the neo-issue raised by this scriblette -- no, ‘scriblet’ is better, like ‘Chicklets’ -- and singled out by the present hate-inspired keyboard to pile on is august enough to be classified as AEIdeological in nature. There is, perhaps, a sort of pseudogravity -- the "¿Is the class of all classes a member of itself?" sort, approximately -- about wondering out loud whether the Lions of Littlebiz have a whight to take goodies from the Wicked State, thereby improvin’ (one hopes) their own bottomlines, while at the same time wreckin’ Ye Olde Republicke an’ lockin’ the Bad Poor into the impoverished badness of Murrayan Dependency (Pat. Pend.) ever more an’ more hopelessly -- though on the other hand, ’tis not as if anybody is going to let the BP out of MD if Mikeyboy’s Mom’s crew can prevent it.

The whight (though not, in this exceptional case, perhaps the rite) answers seems clear enough: Of course, the COAC belongs to itself!

An’ OF COURSE every fine, upstandin’ Littlebizzy can do whatever it takes, even unto consentin’ to engage in EBT with SNAP. _¡Not kennt kein Gebot!_. And furthermore, _¡Salus corporationis, suprema lex!_

I hear thee objecting, Dr. Bones, that most ‘packies’ are not likely to be _veræ corporationes_, for Mom an’ Pop plus some verbiage from Limbozoom are still only Pop an’ Mom. "Dan an’ Lizzy Littlebizzy," as it were. By no means a _hochwohlgeborene Freipaare Ernst von Boch_ are they. Let alone a Corporate Supercitizen proper, like ScroogeBank or the Goldman-Saxons.

(Can’t fool you, can I?)

The whight answer, nevertheless, the answer given at the back of Chicagonomics for Dummies, the answer proclaimed in thunder tones by every vibrant moral fibre of Mattress Shrugged, is that it is simply no business of ours what happens in the Secret Sector. That, oddly enough, is why AEIdeologues an’ Chambermaids of Commerce always call it ‘private’.

Mikey, son of Mom, ought to be in trouble with its own team’s Neoquisition, if you ask me. Here it is, impertinently takin’ cognizance of how Dr. Dan an’ Mizz Lizzie have chosen to conduct the affairs of Thunderword Adult Beverages LLC (666 Melnea Cass Crescent, Louiserville MA -- telephone number available soon) without bein’ itself a specuvestor, or a supplier, or a customer, or even a no-’count trailer-trash hired hand. Or anythin’ else I can name off-hand but an egregious Nosy Parker.

Perhaps, though, Mikhaïl Mommovitch works for the Party Neoquisition itself? Hmmm. I can see how that would combine with the day job . . . .

If so, its neocolleagues must find Mikeyboy rather a trial at times. That "incurable looseness of thought" mentioned in _Eminent Victorians_ is nicely illustrated here, when it suddenly drops the EBT trail an’ starts bayin’ after crimmigrants an’ criminaliens instead. Only out in Mikeyworld--turn hard whight just past Foxcuckooland--there may be no ‘instead’ about it, no change of subject viewed from the inside: "You seen one Bad Poor, Neocomrade, take my word for it, you seen ’em all." All the Bee Pees that have (so far) managed to break into the _Heimatland G*ttes_, anyway.

From our point of view, us having mentioned Dan an’ Lizzie Thunderword, though hardly from little Mikey’s own, there is a tolerably sane way to connect the EBT dot to the _indocumentados_ dot. Mikhaïl Mommovitch wants to tell Dan an’ Lizzy how to run their secret-sector littlebiz as regards accounts receivable, an’ it also wants -- or oughta want --to teach secret-sector Big Management their personnel policy. ¡Let ScroogeBank an’ Warbucks Widget (&c. &c.) purge themselves of all paperwork-incorrect Don Juans an’ Doña Lindas at once! An’ that includes all those countless shofers an’ nannies an’ groundskeepers an’ yachthands an’ polo-pony grooms an’ whatnot that work for Big Managers as individuals.

Given that looseness-of-thought problem, Mikhaïl Mommovitch Graham-Cracker should probably be viewed by secret sectorians who are in earnest as an accident waitin’ to happen. Who can guess what it will be pokin’ its Pinocchio into next an’ wantin’ to dictate to its Betters about?

Not, of course, that this crocodile can weep much for such victims as they. Mikeyboy would not be where it is today, had the Babbitts of Worcester County not befriended an’, more to the point, befunded it. If Mikeyboy turns out at last to be a sorcerer’s apprentice, even a Freedumbstein’s monster, well, ¿an’ whose fault would that be?

Happy days.
--JHM