I wrote the following letter to the Wall Street Journal concerning my knowledge about a giant conspiracy.
It was a joy to read the column by David Rivkin and Lee Casey on mandatory insurance being unconstitutional, and it echoed comments by me and my friends for the last couple of months. It also brought to mind a half-joking thought experiment I’ve suggested to my friends.
I walk into my local police station and state that a gang is conspiring to rob me of up to $3,800 each year for the rest of my life. I tell the nice police officer that the gang has 536 members and that its leader calls himself Barack Obama, and he lives in a big plush white house kept up by the loot accumulated from a century of robberies dating back to something the gang calls “the glorious tax amendment of 1913.” (The gang reportedly secretly calls wealthy Americans once a year in February, the month of ratification of the amendment, and harasses entrepreneurs and wealthy people with its enchanted slogan: “Yes, we shot you down, you wealthy, ingrate bird; remember, remember February 3rd.”)
The gang has been around for more than a hundred years and has had such infamous “initials” leaders as TR and FDR and LBJ and has used such pass-codes as “Social Security” and “Welfare” and “New Deal” and “Great Society” for its major heists, including the biggest gold robbery in the history of civilization in April 1933 and trillions of counterfeit inflationary dollars.
The other 535 members of this capital (not to be confused with “capitalist”) gang nest nearby on a hill (though the “liberal lion” of that gang has recently died and reduced the gang’s number by one). The gang has bizarre beliefs, such as that the CO2 that I exhale is a pollution, that having lots of money is very very bad and suggests some sort of immorality, and that other gangs are OK as long as they call themselves “unions” or an “acorn” or “dictatorships.” The gang’s leader is so busy with a score of planned thefts that he has czars to help with planning and execution.
This giant gang is, however, not without empathy. After it robs me of my $3,800 (and 40% of the rest of my hard-earned money), it doesn’t plan to just use it on its own private, er, public jets and cruises and “fact-finding” missions to exotic locales; it also plans to give my money away to people who choose not to work or who choose not to manage their finances properly or who choose to not take care of their bodies or who choose to not plan for getting old and frail or who choose to give the gang lots of hush money and run big companies into the ground and beg the gang for a couple of billion here and there.
I will, of course, warn the nice police officer that he or she is up against a mighty arsenal. The gang has at its disposal 50 militias and a million or so brave people in fatigues who may become unwitting mercenaries for the gang if the nice police officer decides to try to arrest any member of the gang. I won’t begrudge the officer if he or she tells me I’m on a fool’s errand or that the forces of evil are simply too big to challenge – even if I emphatically remind the nice officer that what the gang is doing is pathetically unconstitutional.