I had a most memorable dream I thought it would be nice to share, but now I think about it, you have probably heard it all before anyway
I was a simple village peasant turning cow pads with my bare hands to allow the underside to dry in the warm sun ready for the cooking fires, it was 1985. I turned another pad and watched as the bugs beneath scramble for cover and my mind drifted from my work to the gloomy story I had read earlier that morning in a magazine as I taken my morning constitutional. It had occurred to me that reading a current affairs magazine on the toilet would seem an unlikely thing for a turd turning village peasant to be doing, but none the less it is my dream and that is precisely what happened.
The story I had read focused upon a newly discovered threat to our world. It mentioned that a hole had been found in something scientist where calling "the ozone layer". Being a simple peasant whose life had revolved around turning over old BS to reveal fresh BS, I had never heard of this "ozone layer", but apparently, it was a very important thing because it made up that part of our earths atmosphere, responsible for insulating our planet from the full and most harmful effects of our sun, which the vacuum of space would not allow distance to filter. I knew just then how the scrabbling bugs felt.
It was mentioned in the article that we could probably expect to see a large increase in the number of deadly skin cancers now that, metaphorically speaking, our own protective bullshit had been lifted exposing us to the evil which lay behind the hole. Like any good peasant, as the fear in this realisation entered my head, I immediately turned my eyes skyward in reflex to gaze upon the unknown enemy that was about to consume my world, only to find myself temporarily blinded by my stupidity, and the notable increase of power in the sun's rays magnified 10 fold by suggestion. I recoiled in terror and rolled onto my back with both eyes tightly shut where I remained as still as if I had gazed upon the Medusa.
As I lay there in fear, I recalled how the magazine story told of some distant world far from peasants and cow dung which had been "industrialized". There was speculated that this industrialization, which had been pushed along by an ever increasing use of the internal combustion engine, and fossil fuels, may have been responsible for this evil ozone hole which had just now attacked me and caused my current state of blindness.
I squinted even harder as I recalled the story had also suggest that as a worse case scenario, our planet could heat up and it could continue to do so to such an extent as to cause mass extinctions, or, curse the thought, may even spell the very end of the human race itself. As this revelation hit home and my eyes began to regain vision, I thought to myself how things could have been so very different for me had I been born smart and lucky instead of being cast into the unfortunate and poverty stricken existence of my dream in which the texture of a cows turd could be the highlight of my day.
I began to wonder what my life would be now had I been born part of some fantastic dynasty. A fantastic dynasty so powerful, it held the very reins of the world monetary system, and had done so for centuries. I then thought, if this 'had' been the case, if I 'had' been born the fantastic heir of privilege and wealth, what would I do if on this very same day had my well paid scientific advisor come to me explaining how our planet was indeed 'heating up' just as the magazine article had suggested, and that he and his team were supporting the notion of our earth now possibly dieing?
Not only this, but what if he then went on to reveal that all current geophysical data clearly indicated that my beloved horse named crude oil, my sweet, sweet, pony I had always affectionately called 'crude boy' who had so faithfully pushed along the tack of this fantastic dynasty's carriage of wealth and fortune for more than a century, was nearly breathless, and commencing his last and final laps around a global economy we of the fantastic dynasty had controlled for years? What would 'I' do? What 'could' I do? It would be my moral responsibility to ensure the birth right of my children, what would need to be done to guarantee the survival of our fantastic dynasty?
I lay back in contemplation of this serious question, chewing on straw and nervously digging the bovine turd from my finger nails. I thought to myself, how in dickens would one achieve such a thing? I dug at some wax in my ear, and it came to me, so I turning on my side I rolled it into a small tight ball. I then flicked my freshly formed projectile at an unfortunate ant, who, in it's choice to leave it's nest at that moment in time, had placed itself on an irreversible collision course with my dream life as a turd flipping village peasant, global economics, and a speeding ball of ear wax.
As a result of my preemptive strike, I watched as the ant quickly retreat back into the sandy mound of it's nest which stood like a desert nation in the sea against the stark contrast of lush shades of greens and blues in the grass of it's surrounds, and then, in that very moment, it came to me like a vision burnt across the clouds. I said to myself with pride, what one would need to maintain this fantastic dynasty would be a middle eastern war to maximise the profits from a the remaining dwindling resource, and then, utilise the vast profits from that venture to form a "New World Order" based upon a vehicle of wealth generation which did not continue to pollute the environment and expand the evil ozone hole.
This was pretty head stuff for a shit kicker like me to come up with, and although a little short on detail, I was none the less satisfied with my rather broad solution to this self imposed question. (after all, I am a peasant remember, and one of the luxuries of living in such abject poverty, is that one need not concern ones self overly much with detail or anything else more complicated than survival and of course, just like everyone else in the world, dealing with the bullshit) I then thanked the ant for the revelation and closed my eyes and lazily laid back to cultivate a few melanomas.
As I lay there basking under the suspiciously warm sun in nervous apprehension that the evil ozone hole was at this moment in the process of mutating my DNA so it to would begin to attack me, I lamented having been the only boy in my village that learnt to read. I then gently drifted off into a deep sleep, I say 'deep' sleep because it should be recalled that I am in fact already in a state of sleep, and to do so yet again requires considerable meditation or laziness the latter of which I have in such abundance as to afford my my current position with in the village. As I drift off once again, I managed to continue upon my earlier train of thought about the fantastic dynasty until it bought me safely into the station of my dreams dream where I alighted onto the second platform of consciousness.
In my dreams, dream, I found myself laying back on a very comfortable dolphin skin leather recliner wearing a perfectly tailored white cashmere suit, and a pair of fine Italian leather shoes. No, no, not shoes made in Italy, but rather, shoes made from an Italian who could not pay his bills on time, I must say, I looked immaculate. The recliner chair had been placed with perfection upon the carefully manicured lawns of my estate named "Ittall". I had just dispatched the two young men responsible for positioning my chair with two quick round from my chrome and bastogne walnut 222 Ruger ensuring that my preference regarding chair placement, would never be divulged to the general public.
I was now anxiously awaiting the arrival of my perfect crust-less cumber sandwich and tall glass of ice tea that I would intentionally leave to spoil in the sun as I don't like either, and then I would squeezed another couple of shot off at the help before lunch. You would think when these people apply for the position, and are shown a uniform with a target on the back, that the penny would drop, oh well, perhaps Darwin is right. As I lay there ignoring completely the distraction of the distinct odour of moo poo coming from beneath my finger nails, I curled one end of my newly acquired waxed moustache around a finger tip and pondered upon this 'New World Order', and then, in that moment of adrenaline just after having squeezing off a round at that cunning gardener who uses cardboard images of himself to distract me while he continues to produce such perfect display of pyrostegia venusta behind the perfect beds full of rimulas and Soho sunflowers at the south end of the estate, I said to myself "you idiot!" Yes of course, Suddam Hussein! Why Yes!!! YES!!!. That loathsome little ant (you do remember the ant) will finally come in handy! With this break through solution racing through my head I began to lay out the sequence of events that would be required to realise they New World Order and the security of the fantastic dynasty.
The first business at hand, stage 1, would be to install a puppet president in the Whitehouse sympathetic to my whims removing completely that puppet in the Whitehouse sympathetic to my whims I put into office last time. This time, it would be far better that this new fellow be a good oil man, someone of staunch CIA stock I think. I knew such an undertaking would not be too difficult to achieve given the resourcefulness of the fantastic dynasties empire. I would simply use our overwhelming control of the media for slander and propaganda and douse the political landscape with buckets of accelerant in the form of "political donations" from our ocean of cash to enrage the fires of suggestion, innuendo, and misinformation and then voila, whoever we choose will be spirited into office in the good old fashioned democratic way, works every time.
The fantastic dynasty has been doing this sort of thing for years all over the world and to assist, we have even collected some very interesting photographs that we keep in our family album. Indeed it is surprising just what one can get done with a single photograph of the right person, in the wrong place or situation. Lets just say that everyone, even those among the most powerful and wealth has a price, unless of course the world is indeed YOUR oyster.
Anyhow, back to our acquisition of a new pony. Once I had my man placed in Washington, it would then be a simple matter of telling that boorish Hussein fellow, the ant whom I have always detested with his silly uniform, tactless manner and stinky breath, that he could take his snake skin boots and toy army, and stomp all over his entire neighbourhood in the middle east with whom the fantastic dynasty had finally tired of the laborious effort in the toleration of their amateurish attempts to mimic our perfection in their silly, disorganised, and segmented OPEC club.
No doubt with this news, that foolish oaf Saddam will not be able to contain himself for a minute and will go bounding eagerly across the desert with his tongue hanging out like a fat old Labrador heading to his dinner bowl. As soon as he makes his move, our man in Washington attacks in defence of the "Free World" and we then move into Iraq with the blessings of the UN.
This master stroke will allow the Fantastic Dynasty to take control of the oil market using "Short Supply" scare tactics to send the barrel price into orbit and maximising our profit for the last few furlongs left in good old 'Crude Boy'. At the very same time, we would once again launder all available funds from the, hmm what should we call them this time, ah yes, the 'Coalition of the Willing' yes, yes that's all of the collective funds in the public purses of CoW, now that rings a bell, ha, CoW, cash CoW?? Oh whatever, the money would fall into our hands as we sell them munitions, which they use to destroy infrastructure, which they then pay us to rebuild with our private sector holdings the combined affects of which, will boost the fantastic dynasties capitol until bursting at the seems. No wonder I'm paid so well.
Stage two would then require control to be taken of the share market. With the unimaginable capitol now at our hands, this would be a simple matter of creating a sustained rally for say a decade or so. Mean while, we watch as technological developments take place to build us a new pony. We could maybe call him Ethanol or Bio-Fuel, or Solar Power, or perhaps Nuclear Nelly, or maybe, when the time comes, we could just control a stable full of many new ponies as there are just so many possibilities available.
Anyhow the point is, that the wealth generated by our devious little curdling of the middle east situation, would allow us to inflate the entire global stock market for years if need be and in so doing, the spectacle of paper profits reflected by the ever expanding growth figures, profit margins and northward climbing graphs would lure all kinds of non-traditional players into the market creating even greater competition for shares in a greed driven feeding frenzy to get rich quick.
Pretty soon everyone would be piling their wealth on board with so called financial planners leading the way with "you can't loose" catch cries as they preach down from the pulpits of the conference centres at high cost seminars to even urge people to gamble the equity in their very own family homes so they can get on that gravy train. Superannuation funds to would be scrambling to out perform their competitors in their attempts to grab market share to increase investment. They would need to gamble the savings of the middle class traditionally locked away conservatively in bricks and mortar and the artificial wealth generated would put pressure on the housing market freeing up still more borrowed money in false equity from around the globe to be stacked on the train again, but there is only one station and it's called the fantastic dynasty.
Stage 3, the coup degas, would of course require a simple exit strategy as we gradually pull funds back out of the market whilst it continues to float, artificially suspended upon the thermals of hot air created by our massive and sustained injection of funds and the ensuing period of panic buying. Yep that's it in a nut shell, this would be the plan, buy in at the bottom, and sell at the top. Only it works much better when you have the buttons to the elevator in your pocket. So, once again just as our Grandfathers had done before 1930 the fantastic dynasty would cash in for treble or even more of what our overly backed listings were ever actually worth.
Shortly after, the market will realise there is nothing, not even hot air, holding it aloft, so it will crash, and the bigger they are, the harder they will fall, leaving the fantastic dynasty with more wealth and power than ever. What's more, it will mean even less competition for control of the available wealth generation potentials presented by the future market, and there most certainly will be one as long as greed is alive. Just as in the 30's, the rest of the world will be left so crippled by their own stupidity and greed, they can only stumble around in dismay, as we, the fantastic dynasty, are once again left free to pick and choose which pony we should bridal up from our stable for the next go-round, it just too easy.
I did of course enter my mind that the pesky UN may get involved and foil our plans for that buffoon Hussein by not supporting our move to roll all the way home to Baghdad and take control. Well I thought to myself, that's just fine, we are patient at FD inc with a lot at stake, we can just do it all again in a decade or so if need be. After all, 10 years is but a tick of the clock to the fantastic dynasty we have been around for a long time and since we have made such a big gaping hole in the ozone layer, the sky is no longer the limit. It truly is fantastic, no wonder we have the dynasty and the rest of the saps have targets painted on their back.
I then awoke from my dreams dream with a shock and found myself back in my dream rubbing my sun-burnt eyes. I shuddered at what I had become in my dreams dream, and thought how fortunate was the world that I had not been born heir to the fantastic dynasty. I felt happy to once again be no more than a simple peasant who read magazines on the toilet, and understood little at the same time knew as well as any man, when I was looking at bullshit.
I then awoke from my dream and rubbed my eyes again, when my vision cleared, I looked at my hand and wondered where the greenish brown dirt had come from under my finger nails. There was a distinct smell of cow dung in the air this evening as I watched the stock market report on TV. I found this strange because I had already washed my hands and scrubbed my nails well.
Cheers
Kim
