Only the Super-Rich Can Save Us! by Ralph Nader

Author:Ralph Nader [Nader, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-60980-362-9
Publisher: Seven Stories Press
Published: 2011-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

The Sunday of Maui Six found Lobo—that was what he liked to be called, just Lobo—racking his brains in the solitude of his office high above Manhattan.

His new job gave him plenty to rack his brains over. He’d read thousands of clippings, seen hundreds of video clips on the SROs’ individual causes and confrontations. He’d consulted with the American Enterprise Institute and the other conservative think tanks. He’d met with trade association executives who should have been alarmed by the unprecedented eruptions all over the country.

After all his exertions, Lobo came up empty. He had no real leads, no feet in the door, nothing. He’d been a chain smoker and stopped, replacing his cigarillos with raw carrots. Since accepting the CEOs’ assignment, he’d devoured so many carrots that his skin was turning orange.

Lobo’s unwonted introspection didn’t prevent him from moving quickly to prepare his capabilities for surveillance, infiltration, attrition, and the all-important assault on motives and integrity to sow fear of the SROs among the people and manufacture a mass sense of insecurity about the future. For these tasks, he called on the smartest dirty-tricks PR firm in Washington and hired hard-bitten experts in penetration tactics—boy, did those guys look hungry!

Of all the people Lobo had spoken to, only one really impressed: Brovar Dortwist. He had fire in his belly, a high sense of alarm, mental acuity, street smarts, and phenomenal Washington contacts. Lobo picked up the phone.

“Hello, Brovar, Lobo here. You remember our recent conversation?”

“Yes, of course, how are you?”

“Fine enough to invite you for dinner tomorrow evening at my office to talk about the SROs.” Lobo explained the acronym, and the two men shared a laugh at CEO Bump’s expense.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” Brovar said.

“Excelente. Adios.”

The next evening, the dapper Dortwist arrived five minutes early and was admitted by a butler who seated him at a beautifully set table. A few minutes later, Lobo strode in and greeted him with an abrazo. Then he broke out a bottle of Dalmore 62 that he’d purchased in London last year for $22,000, and they proceeded to down three straight shots each in preparation for a bare-fisted strategy session.

Lobo looked his guest in the eye. “Brovar, in all my years of going after corporations, I never dreamed a fraction of what the SROs have been doing to them since early this year. It’s an ingenious, deep, broad, diverse, clever, tough, motivating, empowering awakening of the masses. The SROs are recruiting what the Marxists call ‘a revolutionary cadre’ from all ages and backgrounds. I must say, speaking as my old self, pre-conversion, it’s almost inspirational when you think of the huge problems the country is experiencing. What do you say?”

The butler served the salad course. Brovar took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I too find some of what they’re doing not unacceptable. They’re telling capitalists to act like capitalists and stop freeloading on huge deficits in Washington. But overall they’re threatening the whole power system that assures stability and continuity, and that I cannot abide.

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