The Evil, Evil, Evil 1%

Who is this evil 1%?

by L. J. Martin

Perhaps some of you on the east coast, or in Beverly Hills, or in Washington D.C. have a different experience, perhaps you circulate in far different circles than do I, but let me tell you about my recent experiences in regards to the evil ones, the evil 1%.

My wife and I just returned from the pan-handle of Florida, a beautiful place by the way should you have the opportunity to visit, where we visited with old friends. He made his riches as an accountant, she is a successful novelist as is my wife. Yes, they are among the evil 1% living on the water in a beautiful home with an equally beautiful yacht tied up just outside.

I returned to enjoy sushi today with an old friend who was lately from California’s great Central Valley, before that from Wyoming…and, yes, he’s among the evil 1%.  This friend was a land surveyor and invested in a wind park many years ago, long before wind was in fashion as an energy source, at least not to the extent it is now.  He now lives with his family in a beautiful home here in central coastal California.

Not planned, but joining us was a local judge,…and, yes, I discovered he is among the evil 1%.

After lunch I returned to my second home, situated in this beachside town, with the ocean a stone’s throw away.  And yes, my wife and I are among the evil 1%.  Oh, and by the way, I’m 71 years old and still working…happily.

To listen to the rabble-rousers out there, all those I mention above, including my wife and myself, should be taxed into obscurity, into submission, into the poor house…for we are the evil rich. Evil, evil, evil.

Now, the reason I point this out….  My accountant friend from Florida was raised in Southern Alabama, as was his wife.  His daddy was a sharecropper and hers of equal social economic level.  He joined the service and went to school at night in order to become an accountant, she studied on her own time and now has a twenty or more wonderful novels to her credit.  Evil, evil, evil.

My friend here, now a wind park owner?  He was raised in Wyoming, where his daddy was a coal miner.  His daddy gave him quite an economic advantage…he told him he would whip his ass if he ever considered a job in the mines.  That, to me, is economic encouragement.  Evil, evil, evil.

And the judge who joined us at lunch.  An ex-cop who went to law school at night.  Evil, evil, evil.

And my wife and I?  Her daddy was a truck driver and mine was among the missing, having befriended John Barleycorn and leaving when I was seven and my older brother twelve.  My mom, God bless her soul, worked in a small market where she was able to bring home the meat and vegetables not fit to sell to the customers.  I still hate the smell of old off-color meat, but I worked my way into filet if I want it.  And we lived in county housing. Yes, you’re right…evil, evil, evil.

I guess we are the example of that evil 1% who are being condemned by the marchers.  God help us all if they discover who we are, for they’ll have no one to march against, for we are they and they are we.  Wouldn’t that be a shame?  We are they, except we don’t blame others for our circumstance.  Our solution is, and always has been, hard work.

And you know what all of us have in common, all of those folks described above…self-reliance, self-respect, hard work…and having never taken a damn dime from the federal government.  Oops, I did live in country housing until I was twelve….  So I guess I’m not only evil, evil, evil…but a damn liar as well.

My wife likes to tell a story about an afternoon spent on a bus in Bakersfield, where she worked as a real estate sales person, and the twenty or so sales people on the bus (going on caravan to see new listings), got into the conversation about who was raised the poorest.  My wife was high-class, having been raised in a three bedroom one bath mansion and having a ten by ten bedroom she shared with only one sister, her bother got the luxury of one to himself.  One fella had the lead, having been raised by his alcoholic father in a cheap motel room…until a handsome Hispanic broker laughed about being raised in a tent until he reached high school.  And these folks were, and still are, successful.

What the hell has happened to his country?  Who the hell are these whiners?  I’m so sick of them and this tit wielding administration I could puke.

Hard work makes a man, hand out, palm up, forsakes a man.  And the government has forsaken us all

L. J. Martin is the author of 30 book length works and writes the conservative blog  He lives in Montana with his wife, an NYT best-selling author with over 55 books to her credit.

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