With so much concern these days about the huge icebergs of political money melting into the pockets of presidential candidates, it inspires me to again think about my fantasies of being a crony capitalist.
I've always thought it would be neat to be a crony capitalist. You know. A life of VIP insider influence. A big politician would interrupt an interlude of sex (only if the heart is healthy enough!) or Chivas Regal to take your call. A week end in the Hamptons. Dinner in lavish restaurants to show off your importance by leaving big tips. Or a golfing trip to Scotland. First-name camaraderie for mutual back scratching. For a crony capitalist, the skies are never cloudy all day. Anybody for a cigar while we complete the deal?. My cousin needs a job.
I'm not exaggerating.
It's a smoothe mostly secretive role. Most people would never understand what you do if you were called a crony capitalist. But it has its moments. Sounds a lot more upright, say, than a crony socialist.
Lots of people, it seems, would like to be somebody else. Like a LeBron James. Or maybe one of the Kardashians.
As a kid, I had a friend who wanted to be a unicorn. To hear him, that would be cool, too. He was a skinny kid who was bullied more than once. But as a unicorn he could strut through the toughest streets and nobody would dare bother him. It was the horn that did the talking.
Some of us would try to tell him that a unicorn was a made-up creature and he never could be one. But he swore that he once saw one crossing a field in the moonlight and that was good enough for him.
You'd think that after all of these years folks like me with modest bank accounts would give up on the foolish notion of being a crony capitalist. I do have coffee regularly with a few cronies but that's as far this thing goes. Never was a capitalist and there's no point in trying now. So my cousin can go find his own damn job.
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