Crying Baby Billionaire Syndrome

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be billionaires. Steer them into drugs, gambling, or prostitution, as it would be better for them in the long run. In 1925, Henry Ford was voted the third most popular man in history, after Jesus Christ and Napoleon. In just ten years, all by himself. Henry Ford made himself one of the most reviled characters in American public life. Think Montgomery Burns, as Ford had a sharp tongue, a racist mind and no filter.

In his free time, Ford publicly disparaged American workers at every opportunity. Complained about government and taxes. See, he’d built his fortune all by himself without no help from nobody. He’d caught a bad case of the affluenza. You know when you’re that smart. The very last thing you need is advice from “dumb” people. He lived in a country where people had the income and the where with all to buy automobiles, Ford thought, he did that.

He did it all by himself, with his mouth. With the advent of the Great Depression, Ford retreated to his machine gun encrusted estate. Billionaires were out of fashion by then. Tail fins hadn’t come in yet and big moralistic talk down to the plebs, had gone completely out of style. But Ford had made himself the focal point of the issue, with his immense wealth and moralistic talk. Ford had made himself a symbol of everything wrong in Great Depression America, all by himself.

So, when hunger marchers needed a focal point, they need look no further than Ford’s House in Dearborn. Ford was the champion of the rugged individual. Ask him anything; he knows everything! When the system works, he’s Mister Know-it-all. When the system fails, he wants to know what you’re are looking at him for?

It was a cold March, Michigan morning in 1932, when the hunger marchers approached the Dearborn city limit. Obviously, the police on duty worked for Ford and not for Dearborn. If they had worked for the City of Dearborn, they probably wouldn’t have shot five people to death. Wounding sixty more in a display of fear and power. From Icon to villain and all it took was Ford’s big mouth and lots of money.

There was a time when I aspired to own a Tesla. A brilliant innovative automobile. But suppose it had a downside? A flaw so heinous, that you wouldn’t want to own one. A car with a non-removable defective component called an Elon Musk. Musk came to this country broke and penniless, and is now worth billions. He did it all himself you know. Available engineers, top quality suppliers and great infrastructure, wealthy economy, did it all himself.

Why should a billionaire pay taxes to a country that has done nothing for him, but make him a billionaire? When he did that all by himself.  He chose to stay a non-union shop, cause he did it all by himself. He doesn’t need people with nearly  a hundred years’ experience, telling him how to run his factory. He will decide what’s fair and what’s safe. Who gets promoted and who gets fired! You don’t need a hearing, you’re fired.

Besides he could keep more of the profits for himself with a non-union shop. And isn’t that the name of the game? He decided to locate his battery plant in Texas, because he couldn’t afford the added expense of Mexico. What does he care if the power grid is sketchy, he makes solar alternative energy, all by himself.

So, when the antiquated question is asked, “Am I not my brother keeper?” The answer is a resounding, FUCK NO!

America lost; the Billionaires won. There will be no tax upon billionaires. But the billionaires will tax themselves. Joe Biden didn’t fail, America failed. I think Elon’s publicity is being handled by the same crew that defended the Salem Witches and Joey Buttafuoco. Let’s see, Non-Union, cheap labor, high handed self-entitled tax complaining attitude. The diagnosis is obvious, Elon has a major outbreak of ass holishness brought on by his debilitating, crying baby billionaire syndrome.

At the lottery office in Atlanta, they have a wheel. For $2 you can spin the wheel with a top prize of $10,000. My buddy had won $1,800 and went downtown to collect. A gentleman placed his $2 on the counter and spun the wheel. He won the $10,000 prize! The lottery official brought him out a check for $6,600 less the taxes. But the man objected, he told my buddy, it wasn’t right them taking money out of his winnings.

My buddy answered, “Aren’t the fella that just put down $2? Isn’t there a man over there trying give you a check for almost seven grand, just for spinning a fucking wheel? And you’re the fella bitchin about it to strangers! Mister, you’re an asshole.”

It is a central tenant of Neo-liberalism that society is an artificial construct. It is what Fredrich Hayek believed and what Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan  believed. The wealthy are wealthy, because they deserve it, and the poor are poor for the same reason. It’s wrong to tax billionaires, because that fortune is theirs and society doesn’t really exist anyway, and so has no right to it. “I’m not my brother’s keeper, I’m an only child orphaned at birth, and raised by wolves!”

It’s the church of the perpetually self-entitled crybabies, looking for an educated excuse for not paying their taxes and justifying their greed. You see, if you can get a college professor to say it is so, and then get a billionaire to fund a school at a university. Why then you have a legitime excuse for sapping the strength of your nation. All for me and none for you! Capitalism is an illness, the more you have the sicker you become. Don’t let this happen to your child. Better to be one of million beggars in the street than to be the person, responsible for putting a million beggars in the street.

“This is the thing to bomb. This is the beginning—from “I” to “we”. If you who own the things people must have could understand this, you might preserve yourself. If you could separate causes from results, if you could know that Paine, Marx, Jefferson, Lenin were results, not causes, you might survive. But that you cannot know. For the quality of owning freezes you forever into “I” and cuts you off forever from the “we.” ― John Steinbeck

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