Rich Folk Rumble

Some folks have told me that I’ve got a issue with trading with India, but they’ve missed the mark. It’s not about Indian folks, or anyone with roots there. It’s those well connected ones that ruffle my feathers, you know who I mean.

I’ve been labeled a socialist by some, just ’cause I’ve got an issue with the loaded lot. Usually, it’s those middle-of-the-road types, you know, decent folks with no ill intentions.

But let’s clear the air – they’re not the ones keeping me up at night. They’re not swimming in riches that make my head spin. I’ve got my eyes on those who seem to control the world with their mountain of wealth. If only they’d prove they earned it with a dash of kindness.

The snag is, folks don’t fancy delving into their own family history. If you’re sitting pretty with privilege, when did that ride begin? For me, it traces back to 1066, or thereabouts. My ancestors were Norman serfs, took their master’s name, and eventually worked a piece of land for some landlord. They owned that land by the end of it, but sold up due to government mismanagement of the economy long ago. That’s a form of privilege, I reckon.

My ancestors weren’t nob enough to own slaves, and there’s no record of whether they even had a say on the matter. Who knows what they pondered?

My wealth, it’s rooted in the kindness of others, plain and simple. I seldom ask for a handout, and I lay my head down in a house with a meal in my belly. Not much more I yearn for these days.

Peace and some respite from the bigwigs would be welcome. Just govern the nation without squandering our money, legally swindling us, plotting harm, or just being plain inept. Doesn’t seem too tall an order, does it?