The Rules Of The Game

Reading Megan McArdle's recent post on the history of kitchens gave me a whole new appreciation for her job. (Be sure to read Tom Levenson's take on the same post; he is more thorough than I.) McArdle's post was so chock-full of easily refutable errors that it gave me an epiphany--McArdle's job is not to give the right an intellectual basis for its knee-jerk support for the financial industry. McArdle's only job requirement is to simply praise the financial industry and attempt to destroy the reputation of anyone who might threaten its continuing rape of the taxpayer. Evidence, logic, and facts are utterly unnecessary. McArdle could post Dr. Seuss rhymes, and as long as they supported capitalism and elitism her editors and owner would not care in the slightest. Megan McArdle exists solely to sing a constant hymn of praise to money and power.

The Ivy-Bellied Sneeches

With apologies to the late Dr. Seuss

Now, the Ivy-Belly Sneetches had bellies with green.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches had no ivy to be seen.
Those leaves weren’t so big. They were really so small.
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But, because they had green, all the Ivy-Belly Sneetches
Would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.”
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort
“We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!”
And, whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
They’d hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Ivy-Belly children went out to get work,
Could a Plain Belly get in? No, not even to lurk.
You only could work if your bellies had green
And the Plain-Belly children had none that could be seen.

When the Ivy-Belly Sneetches had Aspen conventions
Or job fairs or internships or fellowship mentions,
They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches
They left them out cold, without an exception.
They kept them away. Never let them come near.
And that’s how they treated them year after year.

Then ONE day, it seems while the Plain-Belly Sneetches
Were moping and doping alone on the beaches,
Just sitting there wishing their bellies had green,
A stranger zipped up in a well-known magazine!

“My friends”, she announced in a voice clear and clean,
“My name is McMegan McMonkey McBean.
And I’ve heard of Your troubles. I’ve heard you’re unhappy.
But I can fix that, I’m the Fix-It-Up Chappie.


I’ve come here to help you.
I have what you need.
And my prices are low. And I work with great speed.
And my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed!”

Then, quickly, McMegan McMonkey McBean
Put together a very peculiar machine.
And she said, “You want ivy like a Ivy-Belly Sneetch?
My friends, you can have them for a subscription each!”

“Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!”
So they clambered inside. Then the big blog machine roared.
And it klonked. And it bonked. And it jerked. And it berked.
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked!
When the Sneetches popped out, they had ivy that's green!
They actually did. The best ivy they'd seen!

Then they yelled at the ones who had green at the start,
“We’re still the best Sneetches and they are the worst.
But now, how in the world will we know”, they all frowned,
“If which kind is what, or the other way round?”

Then up came McMegan with a very sly wink.
And she said, “Things are not quite as bad as you think.


So you don’t know who’s who. That is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends. Do you know what I’ll do?
I’ll make you, again, the best Sneetches on the beaches.
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.”

“Belly ivies are no longer in style”, said McBean.
“What you need is a trip through my Ivy-Off Machine.
This tea-party contraption will take OFF your green
so you won’t look like Sneetches whose green can be seen.”
And that handy machine working very precisely
Removed all the ivy from their tummies quite nicely.

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout,
“We know who is who! Now there Isn’t a doubt.
The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!”

Then, of course, those with ivy got all frightfully mad.
To be wearing the green was now frightfully bad.
Then, of course, old McMegan McMonkey McBean
invited THEM into her Ivy-Off Machine.

Then, of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,
Things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.
Off again! On again! In again! Out again!
Through the machines they raced round and about again,

Changing their ivy every minute or two. They kept paying money.
They kept running through until neither the Plain nor the Ivy-Bellies knew
Whether this one was that one or that one was this one. Or which one
Was what one or what one was who.

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
The Fix-It-Up Chappie packed up. And she went.
And she laughed as she drove In her car up the beach,
“They never will learn. No. You can’t Teach a Sneetch!”

McBean was quite right, I’m so sorry to say.
The Sneetches thought they quite smart on that day.
The day they decided there were some "best" Sneetches.
And their kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches.
From that day, all the Sneetches fought who was the best
'Cause they wanted the jobs some withheld from the rest.