The editor of the New York World Herald Spectator-America would like to address his many readers in a special way. He, as a veteran Pulitzer Prize-winner and Oxford graduate, would like to share his wisdom on the Free Markets. He also would like to thank Jon Huntsman Jr. for his enlightening contribution the previous day to this very newspaper.
I live in Washington D.C., commute to New York, live in New York, and commute to Washington D.C. I file nine stories a day, on average, and my fellowships and awards are too many to name. Born into privilege in a Louisiana cotton empire, and croquet dynasty, and a graduate of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Oxford, Dartmouth, Oxford again, and the Columbia School of Art Photography, I have been decorated and graduated many times into the throes of success. Therefore, please listen to me.
That is called building a relationship with your reader. I have built it. Do not doubt me. Many times, in my years of success and book-writing, I have contemplated the Free Market. What does it mean? Let’s take it word by word.
A market is where you buy food, like cheese nips and such. Where poor people go, essentially. And Free means you don’t have to pay, ever. When I was at Cambridge, I was given Free snacks for being such a good debater. It pays to debate. Sometimes, when I wander among the slums of Park Slope, Brooklyn, I think to myself: why cannot all people lift themselves up like me and be successful? Mother told me I’d be lashed by the gilded cane if I didn’t mail the essay my French tutor Jacques penned for me to be accepted into Harvard, class of ’35. Do we need more gilded canes? The answer is only yes.
Every year, when the tax collector comes ’round and my guard bull Jaundice kills him to make him leave, I think, why cannot the markets be Freer? Michelle Bachmann, bless her soul, said what you earn should be yours, and yours alone. Why must Communist governments steal the hard-earned money of my many salaries, fellowships, cotton royalties, and such? If every lad had him a cotton empire, he would be set, and if he lifts himself up by his boot straps, like I did, the cotton empire would be his. A proposal: less laziness. Another proposal: more boot straps!
Yes, there is a definitive lack of boot straps in this country. When I was a boy, and my Latin tutor Chester and my large ominous radio were my only friends, until Sherwood, my lover, I had many boot straps to lift myself up on. Every room of the chateau was layered with boot straps! On the other side of the train tracks, where the impoverished inferiors lived, they had a few boot straps too, but hardly lifted themselves up. They simply gnawed like animals. It took Father to purchase their land to make them start using bootstraps correctly.
In conclusion, I propose a government that does not exist, yet exists only to distribute boot straps. Of course, they won’t be Free. You must work for them! That is the definition of the Free Market, and a superb country that has never failed.
-Rex “Reginald” Hefty