Dear Rich People …

[flashl]

All you wealthy Americans, stop complaining and save the economy!

To: The Filthy Rich
CC: The Stinking Rich; the Pretty-Darned Rich
From: America

When the Gulfstream lands in St. Bart's, can you have your assistant set up a call? We need to talk.

Look, you've had a pretty good deal these past few years. We gave you everything you wanted. Massive reductions in the top income-tax rates? Happy to oblige. Cuts on dividends and capital gains taxes, which overwhelmingly benefit you? No problem. Going after the estate tax—excuse me, the death tax? You got it. We've even agreed to overlook the fact that you private-equity and hedge-fund managers pay only a 15 percent tax rate.

Because we like you, we've pretended not to notice your gauche taste and rude manners. (You know you're benefiting from the greatest concentration of wealth since the 1920s, right? The share of national income taken down by the wealthiest 1 percent rose from 14.6 percent in 2003 to 17.4 percent in 2005, according to Emmanuel Saez of the University of California-Berkeley.) We have sat patiently on JetBlue and Southwest as your private jets clog runways. We continue to bust our butts, defend the borders, and uphold the rule of law in order to protect your fortunes and property.

All we've asked in return is that you do a couple of things you're really good at: Spend and invest that money close to home. Hire us and buy from us. Keep the cash registers ringing, the asset managers managing, and all the service providers providing the many services you so richly deserve.

...

Yes, we've heard that the widespread woes of subprime borrowers are now hurting the primest of prime borrowers. (An act of karmic justice, perhaps?) Thousands of investment bankers are losing their jobs, and year-end bonuses for many on Wall Street were disappointing. We feel your pain. But that's no reason to stop spending. Stagnant wages haven't stopped the rest of us from dipping into our nonexistent savings to pay for bigger TVs and smaller cell phones. When we run out of cash, we borrow against our homes. Then we max out the credit cards, and start raiding 401(k)s and penny jars. We regard living beyond our means as a patriotic duty. Maybe you should too!

...

Just when the economy has started to take on water—and we don't know if we've just sprung a leak or we've hit an iceberg—you are racing for the lifeboats. Please, don't abandon us. Ski at Sugarbush instead of Gstaad. Invest in P.F. Chang's China Bistro instead of China. It might not be as rewarding, financially or psychologically. But your country needs you now, more than ever. And after all we've done for you, it's the least you can do.

Love,
America

Slate

[Mojambo]

1. "In a building of gold, with riches untold, lived the families on which the country was founded..."

"And the merchants of style, with their red velvet smiles,
were there, for they also were hounded.
And the soft middle class crowded in to the last,
for the building was fully surrounded.
And the noise outside was the ringing of revolution.

Sadly they stared and sank in their chairs
and searched for a comforting notion.
And the rich silver walls looked ready to fall
As they shook in doubtful devotion.
The ice cubes would clink as they freshened their drinks,
wet their minds in bitter emotion.
And they talked about the ringing of revolution.

We were hardly aware of the hardships they beared,
for our time was taken with treasure.
Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame,
And pain was prevented by pleasure.
The world, cold and grey, was so far away
In the distance only money could measure.
But their thoughts were broken by the ringing of revolution.

The clouds filled the room in darkening doom
as the crooked smoke rings were rising.
How long will it take, how can we escape
Someone asks, but no one's advising.
And the quivering floor responds to the roar,
In a shake no longer surprising.
As closer and closer comes the ringing of revolution.

Softly they moan, please leave us alone
As back and forth they are pacing.
And they cover their ears and try not to hear
With pillows of silk they're embracing.
And the crackling crowd is laughing out loud,
peeking in at the target they're chasing.
Now trembling inside the ringing of revolution.
With compromise sway we give in half way

When we saw that rebellion was growing.
Now everything's lost as they kneel by the cross
Where the blood of christ is still flowing.
To late for their sorrow they've reached their tomorrow
and reaped the seed they were sowing.
Now harvested by the ringing of revolution.

In tattered tuxedos they faced the new heroes
and crawled about in confusion.
And they sheepishly grinned for their memoroes were dim
of the decades of dark execution.
Hollow hands were raised; they stood there amazed
in the shattering of their illusions.
As the windows were smashed by the ringing of revolution.

Down on our knees we're begging you please,
We're sorry for the way you were driven.
There's no need to taunt just take what you want,
and we'll make amends, if we're living.
But away from the grounds the flames told the town
that only the dead are forgiven.
As they crumbled inside the ringing of revolution."

Ringing of Revolution, by Phil Ochs.

[JenniferJuniper]

3. "Cinematic"

...wasn't he?

"Ah, but in such an ugly time the true protest is beauty."

[sbyte]

4. wow, good lyric's

[angrycarpenter]

2. response from the rich

"Quit complaining and get a job, hippie" or something to that effect.