You live a modest life, you aren't rich but you aren't all that poor, you're mediocre, the middle of the middle class. Your best friend, in panic, calls you one, very frantic, very pleading. He's the top one of the one percent, he has a mansions that's so elegant the ancient Egyptians stand in awe of how big and beautiful it is, and aside from the normal quarrels, his family is the best you have seen in real life, or television. "I'm in debt. Deep in debt. And I need help, fast." So, of course, you drive down and see what you can do to help him.
You can see him standing on the outside of his massive house with his arms stoically put down with his hands crossed forming an X. His Lykan Hypersport car is parked out front and you notice that its in need of a desperate paint job and small white scratches outline the entire car frame. The brick in the paint on the pillars in front of his house are dirty and there are numerous cracks and holes all over his door. He leads you inside to the kitchen and opens the fridge. The normally stacked refrigerator is almost empty now expect a few bottles of soda and ice cream. "I couldn't afford to buy more than that," he explains. He goes to the living room and you notice the TV has a blue sign on it saying no connection. His wife is lying on the couch, her nose red with a bunch of tissues all littering the ground. "I didn't have enough money to go to the doctor." He leads you upstairs now to his kids rooms. Both of them are empty, even though school ended an hour earlier. "I now send them to public school and since we can't pay for WiFi here, they need to go the the library to do work online.
You ask him if he wants to get a loan for helping his family get on better but he objects. "That is not the real problem. Here, follow me." He leads you to an elevator and while you get in he directs it to the basement. It keeps going down for at least two minutes so you are sure it is no ordinary basement. As you get out you spot a long steel tunnel and at the end of it a sturdy, obviously multi-layered door lies, guarded by eight security men, all in tuxedos. As you reach it he types in a password onto a screen nearby and it runs a voice recognition scan and once it is complete, it opens. Inside are rows, and rows, and rows of artillery, guns, shotguns, machine guns, every kind of weaponry imaginable. After your eyes get weary of scanning through shelves of these you ask him why he has these many defenses. "Well, when I go around the neighborhood I'm seeing more and more Hispanics on my route. Also my companies are dealing with a lot more Chinese business man and I don't really trust them. Someone else I don't trust is those Saudi Arabian fellows running the grocery stores downtown, there is just something about them. I mean, I tell them how I want them to behave, but they just don't seem to listen"
I stare with my mouth open, bemused. "And you think those guys are gonna harm you, is that it? Geez man, they're just living their own lives, do what you have to do to protect yourself and you family but you can't just dictate what they say and do. C'mon with just 1/4th of what I bet you spend on this defense system you could donate millions to charity, put money towards the community, or even just improve the city budget. He just slaps his palm against his forehead and exhales loudly. "Don't you get it dude, I'm worried about my deep debt not because I care about all those other things, I need help with a better defense.
That rich friend reminds me of someone, actually something. The United States of America. We could cut the U.S. military budget by 200 billion and still spend more than the next three countries by at least 50 million. And that 200 billion could go towards sending every high school senior to a two year college, taking in ten million refuges on the welfare system, and taking off a two percent tax break for every American. A strong foreign take on our issues is important, but what good is it if the domestic issues crumble right in front of you?
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