Warren Buffett, Public Enemy Number One

As the body of Mr. O. Bin Laden has no doubt sunk to the bottom of the ocean and been defiled by myriad sea-creatures and the amphibious lizard-men that populate the entire Pacific Archipelago, it is time for America to find a new enemy.

Surprise!

He’s been right in front of our resplendently mustachioed faces the entire time.

Mr. Buffett.  Enjoy that iced treat, it shall be your last.

Describing the need to alleviate the feelings of an emotion he has dubbed “guilt”—a concept I have grappled with mightily yet still cannot comprehend, this sheep in wolves clothing has infiltrated our ranks and declared that we, the ultra wealthy, your neo-Feudal Lords, should pay more taxes—an actof highest treason that knows no equal.

Insanity! Larceny! Villainy! Lechery!

The existence of Mr. Warren Buffett is nothing but a horrific affront to exquisite taste and the rarefied air our forefathers fought to create by physically separating themselves from the bumbling herd with walls of varying height and width.

DOBERMANN ATTACK!

Today it’s the government that wants a handout, next week it’s your drunken half brother Atley, finally, it’s “Joe” and the “lads from coal mine six” congregating outside your office window, their sooty and smudged faces glimmering with the unmistakable sparkle of hope, asking for but a pittance to “save Joe’s entire family from the influenza” without the fear of immediate and brutal reprisal.  Joe and the other “lads”, I’m afraid, found my heart and wallet rather closed to their pleas but the gates to my kennel of Africanized Dobermann Pinschers rather open.

Lest you think me heartless, I took great pains to assure that it would not be the influenza that killed poor old “Joe’s” family.

And who do we have to blame for these minor inconveniences and interruptions?   Mr. Buffett. 

Your ailing frame, your piteously rotund glasses, and your soft fat underbelly all belie your truly malevolent ethos, an adherence to basic ethical practices.

The entirety of my body convulses at the thought that such a rich man could act in such a despicable way.

You would have me pay more taxes voluntarily?  I have worked night and day since I was old enough to never pull the break whistle on my father’s assembly line, so that I might some day use my vast fortune to oppress the less fortunate.  And now, out of the “goodness of my heart” I am supposed to “pay my fair share,” instead of using my inexhaustible resources to raise taxes on the poor out of spite?

The apples you used to have.

As all serious economists know, if one man has two apples and another wealthier man has five, the man with five apples will inevitably spend four of his apples in order to rob the poorer man of his two. 

But now that we finally have all the apples, Buffett would have us share them with our malnourished brethren?

As Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior and successful fisherman once said, being rich is defined by the number of people you can watch starve; and I want to watch them all starve Mr. Buffett.

Warren G. Buffett would deprive us of that right, and many others, through his efforts to promote offensive Bolshevik redistributive policies.  Therefore, as an accused socialist and guardian of the poor, he must accept the traditional punishment: death by poorly trained firing squad.  Should you spot Mr. Buffett, contact your local constabulary establishment and promptly flee the county; do not approach him, lest his loyalty to federal authority taint you and necessitate your own agonizing and poorly aimed, borderline-negligent demise.