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On Watching Corporate Putrefaction Before Congress: The MacWorld Comes of Age 

Beware of Mac. Big Mac. The MacPoem. The MacHouse. MacWorld. Be especially aware of MacMall. They will ship you the wrong Mac and they won't take it back. Under any circumstances. OK, Mac, you tell the salesman, you shipped me the wrong Mac. There is no such thing. At MacMall the customer is always wrong. We should have seen it coming, the MacWorld. MacWorld and all its Mac-Mac kin are triumphant. The MacCorporation of America is everywhere, a MacCastle on a MacHill, remote and inimical to human beings, defended by layers of MacVoicemail, inaccessible to mortals, out of reach of human outrage, operating out of MacMail Boxes, fronted by MacLawyers, surrounded by a MacMoat of small print. They wonder in Washington how the MacLords got away with sucking the lifeblood of small investors and bleeding their own MacCompanies to death. Who didn't see it coming? The minute the first mechanical MacOperator Voice sent you through myriad levels of MacCommands, the gig was up for the poor suckers. We opened up to the MacVampire and fed it sweat, hope, dreams and wishes, and got MacScrewed. Watching the bland MacMBA MacHeads scurrying under the Fifth Amendment umbrella like shiny MacAgents of greed is a first-rate MacSpectacle. Supremely confident, without shame or curiosity, they stare out of MacEyes at what they surely view as MacLegislators with needy coffers, not representatives of the MacSuckers. There was a time when business served the people, which was around the time that government was also supposed to serve the people, and that was around the time when business needed the people to agree to buy things, and government needed the people to vote and agree to being taxed. That was a long time ago, before the MacVampire escaped its causal chains and broke free. It took a while for MacVampire to establish its dominion because people were quick to spot it, but it soon learned to assume the mantles of friendliness, politeness, rhetorical optimism, market hocus-pocus and, slowly, the cloak of invisibility. People started believing that there was no MacDevil, only a friendly invisible attendant who catered to their dreams of riches and freedom. Ha! If you want MacHope press One. For MacDelusion press Two. Numbers are infinite and so is the end of your MacDreams. Your MacCommentator, signing off.


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