From the Panama Papers Files: I Love Money

http://www.counterpunch.org/2016/04/07/from-the-panama-papers-files-i-love-money/

This is a very clever little piece, very clever.  Shows how close we are across the world to a slight tip that will send the people into taking real  action against these “let them eat cake” monsters. Off with their heads!
Little example…
I feel that a billion is a proper unit in which my wealth should be talked about, because the sound of this unit is very impressive and appropriate for people of my standing. It sounds dense and seems to pack lots of other smaller units of wealth in it. So when I say a billion, I know that I am a thousand times richer than a millionaire because there are one thousand million DOLLARS in a billion! When I walk among these men, I feel the largeness of the sum of my wealth in my body. They look like to me and to themselves as small objects. I, in contrast, look very large. I guess “heavy-weight” sounds about right for the kind of wealth we people have.”   

If you then read…..
http://wallstreetonparade.com/2016/04/the-feds-policy-nightmare-how-to-raise-rates-without-killing-the-big-banks/

… .you’ll wonder why there’s not more blood on your street. Maybe because your street is so far away from their street?

This is my street….

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And this….

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See the sleeping Aboriginal man on the rhs of the photo? This is a 20 odd story hotel complex on the Darwin Esplanade.

This is the view….

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And this….

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Is my bus stop.

Yesterday I was asked for my bus ticket by an Aboriginal woman with a proud attitude, who was walking to the bus stop where I’d just got off. I could have avoided her by crossing the road well before we passed each other. People noticeably and unashamedly do that here.
I steered my course direct and so did she. I was going to say hello. To me she was a person who deserved the respect I gave others I passed when walking -a simple ‘hello’, a connection.

“You got bus ticket?” She said without looking at me.
To her I was a bus ticket, a dollar, a balanda. ( http://www.kitezh.com/texts/balanda.htm ) I searched my pocket..couldnt find it. She just persisted. I was hot, carrying a shopping bag and a backpack and with sore feet from the stupid uncomfortable shoes I’d decided to wear to work.

I found myself getting annoyed at her determination that I give her my used ticket, at her persistance, her refusal to let me walk home unharrassed. I had to put my shopping down, search my bag, stand in the heat in the side road…..

I found it, was relieved, smiled and gave it to her. She took it without a word, without a look without even acknowledging I was there.

She turned the tables on me (good for her) and I was angered by her ungrateful attitude.

How stupid I was.

I was and am part of a tribe that stole her country called it ‘terra nullius’ and designated her people under the ‘flora and fauna’ Act. My tribe now incarcerates her men and boys, at rates that would make the KKK proud, legislates for more of the same and places her grandchildren with white families to age 18.

How things stay the same and how quickly things can turn. How stupid we are. Equity? What equity. Why should I expect a thankyou, an engagement of eyes or a smile? This is the Top End. Just ask the guy sleeping outside the 20 story hotel on the Darwin Esplanade.

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