57.
   Suddenly I found my voice. “Those who haven’t been blessed by your Free Market shop at the mega-stores of America because they can’t afford to shop anywhere else. They work at the mega-stores because there is nowhere else to work in your ‘service economy’. A mega-store is like a death star. It hovers around Main Street full of independent family owned businesses, hardware stores, shoe stores, book stores, drug stores, grocery stores then settles just outside of towns stripped of manufacturing jobs and blasts this real American free market economy with slave labor products made by industries shipped to impoverished. It doesn’t take long before every independent business is closed and its employees and owners are working in the mega-store for slave wages wearing a vest with a smiley face on it that mocks them as their dignity is stripped from them.”

   “You terrorists hate America for her FREEDOMS!!!!”, the socialite roared. “Anyone who does not think George Bush has kept us safe must be sent to Guantanamo and water boarded! We must torture you terrorists to make the world safe for democracy! I know how George and Dick and all our patriotic leaders feel about torture! I know how torture makes them feel when they see the CIA tapes! Any red-blooded American would feel the same way!” She towered over me in a rage, her leopard spots morphing into rotted stumps. Her eyes crossed. Her teeth bristled and thrashed.
   Claudia had had enough. “Let’s go to Argentina. I feel like a tango.” She took the dogs by the hands and walked indignantly away.