Mister Romney. You, sir, have built up a very
great deal of rancor throughout your asteroidic rise to prominence.
Had you won, you could quite possibly have been the record holder for lowest
presidential approval ratings at inauguration. However, even in losing, thanks to your
ceaseless efforts to imprint your grinning countenance upon the
retinas of innumerable, you may well end up being the least popular
*private* citizen, amid some seriously stiff competish. The amusing
thing about all this (amusing to *me* at least) is that no one would
know to revile you had you not doggedly insisted on becoming a public
figure. Now, I suspect that you probably feel, in spite of all this,
that your ideas on government are still true. And you know what? You
could totally be right. But there are manners of speaking you could
personally utilize to convince those of us who disagree.
Not with your voice, heavens no. You
have proven yourself fairly inept in the use of that method of
persuasion. Nor do I mean the language of your body, as that often
tells stories you never intended. No, I refer to that most hip,
modern, and utilitarian form of speech: moolah. You have routinely
demonstrated your aptitude for capital rhetoric and, brother, can you ever
make that wallet sing. Your position on the glories of privatization
(one of the only core beliefs you appear to hold) seems to hinge on
your insistence that private enterprise is more useful to society
than government. The problem many, many, many of us have with this
notion, and your sponsorship of it in particular, is that you have
personally presented exceptionally little as demonstration.
Now, perhaps contrary to your own
reading of the situation, we of the 99% (or even the 47%) do not
begrudge wealth. Far from it. We, in fact, frequently laud those who
achieve high monetary earnings by having their names inserted in
History Textbooks or adorning sports arenas (difficult to determine
which is the higher honor). Andrew Carnegie. Walt Disney. Henry Ford.
Steve Jobs. Bill Gates. What separates you from their ilk is that in
acquiring their fortunes, these men (and they almost always are MEN,
aren't they?) produced products and/or ideas that have tangibly
enhanced each of us, rich and poor alike. You, though, created your
comma-festooned bank accounts by way of the cutting edge of
accounting. You were paid money for making money, never daring to
offer services to the plebeians. You made deals among fellow
financial astronauts well above the troposphere of influence the
majority of us have access to. To put it bluntly, we don't feel like
we got anything out of it. Wellllll, Staples, I suppose. And where
*would* we be without Staples? Probably shopping at Office Max.
Obviously you have no *obligation*
incumbent upon you to give us anything in return. You are, naturally,
free to do as you like. But every penny invested in a garage
car-elevator for one of your five absurdly huge vacation homes while
you preach on the myriad virtues of privatization feels like an
ever-loudening raspberry blown in our collective ears. Thus, I have
for you an extremely simple way to better make your point and perhaps
acquire a modicum of public goodwill: build a museum.
Now, clearly "simple" is a
relative term. This task would be beyond arduous for most of the
inhabitants of this country. But for a man whose tax return contains
pages numbering in the hundreds, this is a walk in the
gated-community park.
There are conditions, of course. If you
were to, say, build a museum dedicated to the life of Willard M.
Romney, then I doubt you would receive unanimous accolades. I think
probably an art museum would be the safest bet. Since you are so
quick to dismiss public arts funding, we might be more willing to
accept your argument were you to participate in a bit of the private
sort.
Also, you really oughtn't use this as a
forum for specifically political or religious ideological
advancement, as that would merely add more non-biodegradable fuel to
the cynical fire already miles high. But if you manage to avoid those
reasonable pitfalls, you can pretty much do as you please. Pick any
art you like. Pick art *only* you like. Have exhibits dedicated to
exhibiting great artists of the Latter-Day Saints faith. There is not
yet such a museum, and even non-religious folk like myself would have
no problem with that, as scores of masterpieces throughout history
have been created by the faithful. Art does not require fairness in
presentation so long as it is personal and passionate.
The lone consideration left to make on
this subject is this: do not talk about it. Make an announcement of
intent that is devoid of any attempts at humor, gallantry, or
philosophizing. Upon its opening, if you must speak, give the most
boring speech you can concoct. Set up a trust fund to hopefully
maintain this project in perpetuity and then... disappear. Stay away
from the limelight and keep to the hermetic circles in which you ran
before entering public life. You can then live out the remainder of
your days in relative peace and comfort. If all goes well, you won't
need to say one word more. Your deed will speak for itself.
Today's Song For Your Ears To Taste: "Thick As A Brick" by Jethro Tull
~S-B
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