'When the American empire finally collapses, historians won't be stunned by the greed of the elite'

[gfarber]

40. Loyalty Of The Poor

There once was an empire so grand,
That fell not by some foreign hand.
The ledgers would say
(When the dust blew away):
It was poor folks who took their stand.

There once was a voter quite poor,
Who bowed to a tycoon next door.
He cheered every theft,
Clapped while being left
With less than he’d started before.

They voted to cut their own aid,
And grinned as the safety nets frayed.
“It’s freedom,” they cried,
As healthcare all died,
While jets were tax-deductible made.

Not gain, but the spite was the trick—
If others got hurt, terrific!
They’d lose what they had
Just to see someone sad,
A pleasure both pure and specific.

No statutes were broken or bent,
No coup in the dark ever meant.
Just stories well-spun
Till the damage was done,
And ballots did all that was meant.

So scholars will gape at the sight,
Not greed—but devotion outright.
A system stays neatly rigged
By myths that keep minds tightly jigged,
Till crowds cheer the dimming of light.