The golden carriage rolls by. Through the window you can see the King beating the Fool with a sceptre and the Fool beating the King with a bladder on a stick. "See," says the cynic, "I told you the Fool was complicit."
The World We Want? I suspect not, Sweetie. Money talks, bullshit walks. How much money you raised for "social change"? Why change the game when it's is working so well? I got no complaints. You losers crack me up. Who gives a shit what world you want? Work hard, make a few hundred million, then you can be a philanthropist and say what world you want and make it happen. Otherwise sit down and shut up. If I want your opinion, I will ask for it, like never.
Are Bob's friends in wealth bondage, without knowing it? Obviously so since Wealth Bondage is nothing more than the Free Market as we know it. How did we know Bob's friends were reading WB? Easy. In the free market every move you make is surveilled for your own protection. Bob and friends total confusion is indicative of just how pervasive Wealth Bondage really is. They are in it and don't know it and as such they can neither conceptualize nor escape it. Everything is working in accordance with The Master Plan.
After the Wealth Bondage Charity Ball we toss out a few tons of shrimp, pate, pheasant, trout, steak, roast beef, cake, pies, nuts, cheese, beer, wine, champaigne, and other items. Recently we have been plaqued by Dumpster Divers who steal this property. Fortunately we have now purchased a trash compactor rendering theft of garbage impossible. Get your own garbage! Or, you will be crushed.
Of course if you are laid off from Wealth Bondage you might want to hunt around in some other company's trash rather than expecting a severance package from us.
From a comment about Wealth Bondage at Bob is the Oil Guy: "I'll assume that we're viewing the followers of an elite philosophy. One that is prefiltered for alleged elite status." That is correct. I have Mr. Scruggs screen readers by asking them to count their own fingers. Ten plus or minus 2 are in, not counting the thumb they have up their sweet little behinds. Come in little boy, Momma wants to show you her milking machine. We are going to clone you idiots to make a race of slaves for us with elite status. Here, Sweetie, let Momma show you. No, Sweetie, hold it for me until I get the pump connected. Next!