Greasing the Skids, or Billionaire Acres

DATELINE: Money Talks

Once again we have received anonymous emails disparaging us for not showing enough respect to billionaires. We have to genuflect apparently when the names of Bill Gates or the Koch Brothers are mentioned.

We have had our conservative Goldwater roots questioned for not appreciating the men who have a cadre of lawyers to prevent them from paying too much tax.

Among those we have bitten in our rattlesnake mode, we list many sports billionaires—the new playboys of the Western world. How could we not like Patriots owner Robert ‘Don’t call me Krafty’ Kraft. Here is a man who kisses his players upon greeting, yes, literally, and they must kiss his cheek. No, the other one.

We have too often mocked John Henry as King John Henry VIII with his penchant for playing the Red Queen and offing the heads of those who speak evil.  We have been banned from Red Sox sites across the globe, lest he learn the snake in the Fenway grass, is slithering around.

We have dunned Mark Cuban, an arrogant public figure who pretends he is just like you or me. He isn’t. On this you can trust us.

We have castigated the footmen and under-butlers of the wealthy, like Roger Goodell. It is not some green-eyed monster that motivates us, but simply we cannot deny ourselves a big target that uses its privilege to be a mob variation of an under-boss.

You’d think we supported Bernie Sanders who also has made a stump speech out of singling out the super-rich. No, we think more of Donald Trump who blatantly throws his money in your face in every speech.

Billionaires, you gotta love’em. We can’t avoid avoid them.

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