21 April 2012
Little Big Biz
Dear Dr. Bones,
Bozo here, that is to say M. le baron de Poujade-Driscoll, is a strong argument for one sort of ultimate optimism. You, sir, are a little too inclined to take the goodvolks at WhightGuard G.H.Q. for clever as well as malignant. Reflect that we have to do with a Class that actually wastes part of its AstroTurf™ budget on fundin’ the Drool of Driscoll (Pat. Pend.)
It requires a certain quantity of nous, I guess, for his freelordship (by courtesy) to be able to con his masters, the alone authentic £©®D$ of True Freedumb, out of whatever he gets, but this is (A) his, Driscoll’s, clevernesss, not Their Firstlordships’, and (B) not exactly worthy of Mephistopheles or Eddie Burke, qualitywise, and (C) thus rather a reason to minimize than exaggerate the collective I. Q. of the Class that would make War. A spoofster might turn that to "Their Firstlordships ‘would’ indeed make war--if only they were a good deal bestembrighter than Father Zeus wants ’em to be."
Meanwhile, back at G.H.Q.,
M. de Poujade-Driscoll hitchin’ his hobbyhorse to our old pal Rear-Col. V. D. Blimp-Hanson speaks eloquently for itself. "Deep calls to deep, freedumbell rings to freedumbell." One may hope, but not seriously expect, that Messers les Frères Koch _et al._ got the package as a two-for-the-price-of-one deal, possibly on 1 April. 
More fun though the ad homunculum is, Paddy and Eye feel we ought to say at least a little bit about the substance of le neopoujadisme driscollien. As follows: PettyBiz, the usual dupes an’ marks are to understand, is not like the Goldman Saxons at all. Why, ¡PettyBiz reveres its customer base an’ would never dream of thinkin’ of ’em as cartoon characters!
Once a month PettyBiz assembles for dinner an’, though Big Tom Bloomer & the Chambermaids of Commerce may on occasion perform some worthy classic like the Dance of the Seven Invisible Veils, yet most of the thoroughly decorous shindig will be devoted to solemnly worryin’ ’bout how to be better at jobcreatin’ whight here in Pajama River City, located, as you know, not far from Cincinnati.
China, from the PettyBiz (which is also the cloth-coat Republicanine) perspective, is to be sought "somewhere yon side of Asheville."  At General Electric they may know how to find outlandish dens of Evil and Opium but, ¡G*re sei Dank!, nobooby at PJC knows that sort of knowledge!
It’s a Self-Wunnerful Life, PettyBiz is -- an’ the Warrior Class is not goin’ to wreck it. ¡Not if PettyBiz can stop ’em! 
 It is at least equally (pardon my French) possible that that their Firstlordships were jollied into buyin’ their Class two scabs for the price of five. Up to a (not very remote) point, the Malefactor Class proper can be diddled by ‘conservative’ ‘intellectual’ señoritoes like Hanson-Blimp an’ Driscoll de Poujade. This is, I think, at bottom the same brain disease that causes-- that *forces*, almost--their Firstlordships to pretend to like Bach and Boccherini and Die Verfassung der Knechtschaft. Maleficence their Freelordships need no lessons in, of course, but they aspire to look like, as well as be, Warrior Classmates, a self-vanity which hands ’em over, up to a point, to Tank Thinkers an’ frenchified dancin’ masters an’ all the practitioners of the Higher Interior Decoration.
 ¡Thank you, Comrade Cash!
 Mr. Mencken spoke of "a conspirtacy of kittens to overturn the Washington Monument."