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    Home»All Content»The Hub»Articles»Politics»Trillionaires: We Help So Many While Raking in Trillions – So What’s the Problem?
    Politics

    Trillionaires: We Help So Many While Raking in Trillions – So What’s the Problem?

    James KleinBy James KleinJanuary 25, 2022No Comments6 Mins Read
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    Trillion dollar club

    A grateful world thanks its beloved trillionaires, who do so much good while obscenely enriching themselves. So claims a new report from the Institute for Limitless Acquisition, a trillionaire-funded thinktank launched by warbot mogul Lazarus Whiff.

    The report, titled “An Endless Hellscape of Suffering: Imagining a World Without Trillionaires,” interviewed three psychotically covetous resource-hoarders – every American trillionaire except autonomous womb magnate Anton Lutz, who is suing Whiff for putting autonomous wombs on his warbots.

    “I’m not copying Lutz’s idea, because anyone would’ve thought of it,” Whiff insisted in Time magazine’s “End of the World” issue. “Obviously, you’d want your warbots to gestate human soldiers while they’re fighting. It’s just common sense.”

    Lutz’s own thinktank, The Center for Insatiable Accumulation, is best known for publishing The Three Habits of Highly Successful Trillionaires (1. Make money; 2. Make more money; 3. Build penis-shaped rocket ships.)

    The report begins, “We shudder to think what life would be like without our cherished trillionaires, or the inadvertent discoveries made aboard their penis-rockets. Without trillionaires, what would property values be like in the gated communities where they build their colossally garish mansion-compounds? Would there be any sky-blocking corporate towers to dwarf the insignificant humans crawling below them? It’s too horrible to contemplate.

    “Trillionaires are, above all, job creators. Not just the cruel and dangerous toil they inflict at their factories, strip mines, and industrial slaughterhouses. They also employ cowering hordes of inadequately paid personal staff to maintain their grotesquely extravagant lifestyles.”

    “If I gave away any of my vast fortune, all those squash coaches, yacht waxers, and cat masseuses would be out of work,” quipped Whiff. “Is that what you want?”

    “I use a guy, a craftsman really, who installs the mink floormats in my Bentleys,” explained synaptic implant tycoon Üuli Ólåfsson. “If I stop buying Bentleys, I don’t need any more Bentley-fitted mink floormats, and I don’t need the guy who installs them. His name is Sergio, and he’s a friend of mine. I know his wife, and the three kids who depend on him. Or maybe it’s Silvio, or Salvatore, and he has more than three kids, or less. The point is, he’s out of a job! You think there are tons of other trillionaires around buying mink floormats? Ask Sergio – or whatever – and he’ll tell you we need MORE trillionaires, if anything!”

    “Some people call it ‘trickle-down’ economics, but it’s a lot more than a trickle,” added Ólåfsson, speaking through his brain-linked android. “For some people, like mink floormat installers, it’s more like a gushing stream, spraying them in the face!”

    “Trillionaires are accused of having big egos, just because their penis spaceships are modeled on their actual penises,” the report continues. “The truth is, they couldn’t be any humbler about their achievements, even if they weren’t buying ads praising their achievements.”

    “People think we’re lazy!” scoffed Ólåfsson’s brain-bot, whose name is Derek. “They think I’m lying around in one of my dozens of swimming pools all day, drinking artisanal cocktails my servants bring me. Well, I’m not! I’m working my ass off. I mean, I’m still in the pool with the cocktails and servants, but I’m also working, courtesy of my Bluetooth devices, personal wireless networks, and the brainstem transmitter that lets Derek read my thoughts. Unlike the whiny workers in my industrial slaughterhouses, you never hear Derek complain about ‘bathroom breaks,’ ‘stolen wages,’ or ‘disfiguring injuries.’ So, who’s lazy?”

    “Everyone’s bashing trillionaires these days,” observed Lazarus Whiff’s clone, also named Lazarus Whiff. “They think we don’t have problems, and feelings, or that bad things don’t that happen to us, just like the poors. Sometimes we’re unhappy too, like when our market cap dips, or the helicopter is late for work, or one of our trained falcons is sick. We’re sad, just like inferior people.”

    “You think it doesn’t hurt when we’re mocked on late-night comedy shows?” asked sexdroid monopolist Dick Grandy. “Imagine you launched a penis-ship, and it explodes at the tip, sending fire into the air like it’s ejaculating, and everyone laughs at you. Then imagine you own a sexdroid company. And your name is Dick!”

    “Ask any wise person, like Jesus, or Buddha, or whoever, and they’ll say that true enlightenment comes from a rejection of material possessions,” noted Whiff’s clone. “If trillionaires gave their money away, then poor people would have more possessions, and…”

    “It would hurt their chances at spiritual enlightenment!” blurted Lazarus Whiff’s other clone, finishing the first clone’s thought. “That would be wrong!”

    “Money can’t buy you love – isn’t that what people who don’t have money to buy love say?” posed Dick Grandy’s metaverse avatar. “If you don’t have family and friends in life, then no amount of trillions will make you happy. So, I might as well keep all of mine.”

    “The main reason we shouldn’t raise taxes on trillionaires is because it’s discrimination!” shouted Derek alarmingly. “We only have four trillionaires in the nation, and nobody likes them, so by definition, it’s discrimination against an oppressed minority. We don’t believe that’s the kind of place where Americans want to live. Or ever have!”

    “Raising taxes on trillionaires would be unpatriotic!” declared Dick Grandy’s simulated personality. “Boston Tea Party, ever heard of it? We went to war against taxes. Or were you rooting for the British, you traitor?”

    The report concludes with a stunning announcement: “Lazarus Whiff is launching a mission to Jupiter! This groundbreaking endeavor is in no way similar to Üuli Ólåfsson’s mission to Jupiter, Dick Grandy’s mission to Jupiter, and definitely not Anton Lutz’s certain-to-be-a-disaster mission to Jupiter.”

    “Unlike those other missions, ours will be of the people, by the people, and for the people!” chimed Lazarus Whiff’s clones simultaneously. “By which we mean it will be entirely crowdfunded. Our mission will represent all Americans (who donate), and not just trillionaires! Anyone can give any amount of money, as long as they also pay the 12% processing fee.

    “For our part, we’ll be selling the naming rights, preserving our fortune, and watching the excitement every step of the way with our clone-lovers by our sides.

    “Join us on this momentous adventure, and together, you’ll fund history!”

    James Klein
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    James Klein

    James Klein has been writing satire since he was an underachieving zygote in his mother's womb. Born to confusingly little fanfare, his parents feared he would never amount to much. Fortunately for everyone, he proved them right, so they never had to apologize for underestimating him. Still writing satire as an adult, James is determined to not learn any lessons from his middling efforts, a stalwart perseverance his friends and family call "delusional," "misguided," and "clueless." Undeterred, he continues submitting satire to reputable publications that probably wish he wouldn't. James also wastes his time on a Facebook page called Website Bad (facebook.com/websitebad) where he collects satire he'd otherwise misplace because he's old, disorganized, and his memory is faulty.

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