Chapter 1
Based on a True Story
One day in the distant past, a rich man, tired of taxes and regulations, decided to form a society of lawyers and judges who would help all the rich men including himself from taxes and regulations.
It took a long time, but eventually, with the help of a psychotic wealthy President, they would stuff the Supreme Court with lowlife sycophants.
Then, these not very smart, let's face it: actually really dumb, lawyers helped the wealthy eliminate laws that the rich men didn't like. Unfortunately, since these lawyers were all insanely focused, they didn't consider what might happen to themselves in the process. This is the story of the consequences of not having any brains, foresight, and/or morals. This is the story of not leaving well enough alone. This is the story of greed.
“Here’s the thing. You can’t just talk about your money. I know it pisses you off, but the public doesn’t care if your taxes are raised.” Mike said.
“But they should. My taxes get raised, I have to charge more.”
“But if they get health care, and better education for their kids, they won’t, I repeat, care.” Mike's father was stubborn. Mike spent a lot of time reasoning with him.
“Well, we need to make them care. Whatever it takes. Just like any product I want to sell.”
“Except it’s a lot harder to sell them something that really only benefits you.”
“Listen, son. You may be related to me, but I can have someone else do this job ...”
“Go for it. What a horrible job it is. Lying so you can make more money. I’d rather sleep on the street than do that job. I’m sure your greedy sycophants will tell you exactly what you want. I’ve already stashed away money knowing this day would one day come. I hate to say it Dad, but you’re transparently easy to read. Oh, by the way, I quit.”
Miller looked perplexed, his eyes blinking and his mouth in a line. “Listen, Mike. Let’s be reasonable. You will be in charge of this project, not me.” He put his hand on his son's shoulder. Miller knew his son was smart and he couldn’t trust this job with anyone else. He realized his own emotions were getting the best of him. He needed someone to do this job right, not angrily like Miller would have liked - act in the moment, so he pleaded with his son. After significant negotiation, he put Mike in charge.
“Okay, Dad, first thing were going to do is set up a club, call it the Mederalist Society and put sign-up tables at Harvard, and other law schools, for the students. In the mean time, we’ll figure out our basic principles which will include, less regulations and more tax breaks for the wealthy, of course. I’m assuming that’s what you want?”
Miller bit his lip and slowly nodded his head. “Sounds like a good start.”
“We have to frame this idea as good for America, not just good for your sorry ass.”
Miller looked at Mike with dismay, bowing his head. “I get it. You’re still annoyed.”
“You’ve got me lying and propagandizing. You’re surprised I’m annoyed?”
The Mederalist Society established in 1982 and flourished with the help of Miller, along with the steady hand of Mike as its organizer, but they needed Republican leadership to stuff the courts with Mederalist Society judges, and the Congress with Mederalist Society members as well, not to mention local politicians. Most politicians were lawyers and over time many of them were Mederalist Society members, so the fix was most definitely in.
But, as it turned out, the public liked smart regulations on companies who seemed willing to abuse the public trust to make even more money. They also liked it when the wealthy got their taxes raised, especially when the public’s benefits went up.
So, it was a slog convincing people to vote against their best interests and the ones actually listening and not buying the propaganda never went along. They formed their own society’s fighting the propaganda, ones who cared about people other than the wealthy.
“Okay, Dad. Since we started, I can’t believe it’s been thirty years now, but thirty-five percent of congress are now Mederalist Society members, that’s a lot of progress. We’ve lowered your taxes from seventy-two percent to thirty-five percent. Tell me you’re not happy-” Before he could finish, Mike fell over, clutching his chest. “I... can’t... breathe.”
Miller grabbed his phone. Three minutes later, paramedics showed up, and they kept showing up.
But, it was too late ...
Mike died of a massive coronary.
At the funeral, Miller’s other son, Eric, stood by his father's side. Could his other son take over? He had serious doubts. The kid barely graduated high school. Eric put his arm around his dad. He was several years younger than Mike, but he did work at Mike’s office. He should know something.
“I’m ready. I told you.”
“But, you don’t know the law. You’ll be talking to lawyers. This is an important job. You need to attract the right types of lawyers who are supporters of people like me.”
“You mean rich people? Near as I can tell, all lawyers like rich people. I don’t think you need to worry about that part. I know Mike’s strategy. Talk about everything except the wealth of the client, he’d say. The average person does not care about the worries of people with more money than God. He used to say that all the time. Is that true, Dad?” Eric stared at his father.
“I don’t know why. We give those people jobs.”
“Give them jobs? Like it’s a charity. Aren’t those people with jobs the reason you’re super rich? I’m sure those forty-three people dead in the Firestone plant were super happy with their jobs.”
“Sounds like you listened a little too much to Mike.”
“You said he was a genius. Made sense to listen. Still a genius now that he’s dead?”
They were still standing next to each other staring down at Mike, who lay in the coffin almost like he was happy it was over.
“He sure was. He put a lot more money in my pocket. Yours too, for that matter. I don’t know if you knew that.”
“I can do better. I think if we pick up the religious kooks, they’ll follow us anywhere, as long as we go back to the old ways. You okay with that?
“What do you mean, old ways?”
“They mostly want abortion gone and women under control. That’s what I mean. They have a presidential candidate in mind who they believe is ideal to bring this about. One who actually hates women and never goes to church...”
“Son, that makes no sense. Why would they want a guy like that?”
“He’s a skeevy conman who will do anything for power, including kowtow to these morons. He has zero morals, but needs this job so he can keep his ass out of jail.”
“You’re talking about Crump, aren’t you? I hate that guy. Remember when he didn’t pay me for that construction job I did for him? Jesus, that guy?”
“Yeah, but apparently the dopes in the hinterlands think he’s a genius businessman. Having that show for ten years helped his image with guys who mow lawns and work at seven-elevens. But yeah, there’s a lot of pushback from your class.”
“You know, he inherited his four hundred million. He made zero on his own, except maybe that show. And all he had to do was show up. The blackmail material that guy must have ...”
"What guy?"
"The producer of his show. I hear there's a boatload of racist crap in the footage."
"Really."
"I also hear he's not releasing it. Did you know the producer was a Christian Nationalist. He's been thinking of Crump for this role for a while now. I have to say, it gave me pause when Mike said he was the Mederalist Society's choice. But, was this bonehead enough for me to fight Mike? I guess it wasn't."
“Problem is, Dad. No one who’s actually good at business will do the job. Right now, for the Mederalist Society, he’s our best option.”
“Is it wrong that I hope he loses?”
“I don't think so. Seems like a huge waste of money, if you ask me ... hoping for him to lose.
Back to what we were talking about before ... We’ve looked at the Supreme Court and he’s our best chance for getting the Justices we want. You want that Chevron decision gone, right?”
Miller shook his head and sighed.
“Well, he’ll put in anyone we suggest. Anyone, he doesn’t care. He just wants money and power. He’ll be your bitch in the White House.”
“Did I mention, that rather than pay me for that job, he sued me? Why would I trust him at all?”
"It's a little late for all this philosophy, don't you think?" Eric shook his head. "Besides, you have the money. That's why."
“All those laws you want changed, they won’t change without a dominant conservative Supreme Court that we’ll be under our control. And, all it will cost are a few trips to the Bahamas here and there. Then, you'll have twice as much money. Pretty cheap when you think about it.”
“Part of Mike’s plan was to bribe Supreme Court judges?”
“No. My idea. Mike thought they’d get caught and it would backfire. I think the Christian Nationalists only care about abortion. You could bribe the shit out of these halfwits and they’d go along.”
“But, what about getting caught?”
“Turns out the Supreme Court gets to make their own ethics rules. By the time anyone catches on, it’ll be too late anyway.”
“You mean, too late for Democracy?”
“That’s what Mike used to say.”
“I know.”
“Listen, Dad, I know he cheated you once and sued you in the process, but he’s also about to cut your taxes. You need to get over it.”
“I’m paying for this whole damn thing. How much more over it do I have to get?”
“He wants to meet you. Crump thinks of you as old friends. He remembers your history differently.”
“I bet he does.” Miller stood up and straightened his shirt, rolled up his right sleeve.
“Maybe he could admit he cheated me all those years ago. That would be a start.”
“He won’t do that. He’s kind of a dick, that way.”
“You thought I was gonna make it easy for him? Here’s the thing. I’m kind of a dick when it comes to being cheated by a lying scumbag. And I have the money, so guess who wins the argument?”
Eric sighed. “I’ll tell him that you’ll be turning off the money faucet if he doesn’t go along.”
“It’s the only thing he understands. And tell him, I’ll have the press there while he kisses my ass. Lots and lots of cameras. No takebacks.”
“Hope it works.”
“How broke is he?”
Eric shook his head.
“That means he’s broke. It’ll work.”
“The only thing that worries me is, maybe it’ll work too well and soon he’ll be President. Then, who knows what’ll happen. I think the saying, ‘be careful what you wish for’ comes to mind.”
“Now, you really sound like Mike.”
“This will take a while and we’ll watch him like a hawk. I promise.”
“Famous last words.”
“Is he here? I’m not going on stage till I know he’s here.”
Eric put his phone to his ear, said a few words, then slipped it back in his pocket. “He just left his limo. He should be here in thirty seconds.”
Miller stared at the door Crump would be entering. The press were already staring at the stage, some at the door Miller was watching.
Crump walked through the door with his hand out, smiling like they were old friends. His entourage of young men trailed behind him. Miller recognized one of them as Crump’s son. This one did most of lying about the job as Miller recalled. He brushed away his hand and pointed to the microphone.
“You got something to do, remember?” Miller faked a smile, but he kept the volume down so only Crump could hear him. “You’re not getting a dime unless you make me happy.” Miller looked at his watch. “You got a minute to make it happen. Oh, and if it sounds like you’re blaming me, bye bye my money, Crump.”
Crump stepped up to the microphone with a smile. He spoke into it. “I don’t know if you know this, but we’ve been friends a long time. We’ve worked together and now he supports me for President. Has everything been peaches and cream? No. We’ve had our disagreements...”
“That’s it?” Miller stepped up to the microphone. “He sued me for no good goddamned reason, just because he didn’t want to pay. Now he wants my support even though he’s a scumbag.”
The reporters gasped and took more pictures. Crump stood there looking at the ground.
Crump stepped back up to the microphone. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have sued him. I took bad advice from my lawyers. And I apologize.”
Miller leaned back with a smile, staring at Crump. “You must really need my money. Damn.” Miller looked at the reporters. “He’s right. We’re just having fun. I told him he’d have to take some razzing if he wanted my money.”
Crump looked down the whole time Miller spoke. Crump turned and walked out the door when Miller finished.
Eric leaned over and spoke in his father’s ear. “Well, that was a waste. You better hope he doesn’t win.”
“Oh please. Ultimately, the guy’s a fucking pussy. Besides, you said he’ll be my bitch, right?”
Eric stared at father, a look on his face like he just lost his dog.
“You could always get somebody more normal. I think you’re religious kooks will be fine.”
“They really like Crump and he has no problem playing them.”
“Gee. Politicians playing the rubes? Those are really tough to come by, it seems. All the Mederalist dopes are con men. Pick one. Maybe I’ll find one to back ...”
“I get it. I’ll make a list of options.”
“Glad to see who’s in charge. I was beginning to think you forgot.”
