Entire wars. Really, who would trust a CEO. Really, who would trust a politician. Really, who would trust  – I don’t know – men. “How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! What is’t you do?” We are simply hunter-gatherers called Republicans. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. Corporations do not sit around and discuss all issues related to Benjamin Franklin. Corporations sit around and plot. Entire wars. Quid pro quo has turned into What Can We Squeeze From This. Maybe no new boycott. Pick a product. Poisons. We’ve had a lot of practice since the last time we acted up. Trust. No. One. Just make your body known. What more do we have than them. Put them on the line. Or wiggle that line just a little bit, and watch the ripples of fear spread around in concentric voices. Much like the universe itself. Entire wars. Heads will roll. Wave goodbye. “What is’t you do?” Not Why Are You Here. Because no one knows why you are here. We’re just here, OK. Performing like we always have, making rich people richer. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” I have arrived to tell you this. You are responsible for the political trolls you sleep with. We’re watching you. I do not care where you work. I do not care who you are. I don’t care who you are married to. If you are taking bankers to bed, shame on you. Entire wars of Bankers because who else gets to sit on the boards of agencies who monitor the very agencies crows are attracted to like shiny objects.