Chapter 2

Occupy Wall Street




         A few days later, J.C. dropped in at the Occupy Wall Street encampment at Zuccotti Park, dressed in white shirt, tie and sandals.   It didn’t take long for a crowd to begin gathering around him.  Standing on a park bench, he proclaimed:

         “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth. . .” 

         Two occupiers talked about what they were witnessing.

         “This guy sounds like the real deal.  Where’d he come from?”

         “Nobody’s quite  sure, but the word on the street is that he was working at Morgan Goldman…”

         “Oh, a One Per Cent infiltrator, maybe?”

         “ But they canned him after a few weeks.”

         “Oh, sweet !”

         Meanwhile, J.C. continued preaching as the crowd grew:

         “And forgive us our debts… especially those bad mortgages… And how about cutting us a break on those college loans…So the 99% who deserve it can inherit the earth.”

         Cheers went up throughout the crowd and reverberated down cavernous Wall Street.  And J.C. continued:

         “Woe unto the rich for they have already received their consolation…”

         Upon hearing this, the first occupier turned to his friend and uttered:

         “ This sounds vaguely familiar.  Where have I heard it before?”

To which his buddy responded:

         “ I don’t know.  Maybe Marx?”


         “No, Karl.”

         Meanwhile on the 14th floor of the Morgan Goldman Building.  The senior vice president and HRD head were looking down on J.C. and the burgeoning crowd surrounding him. The HRD head offered:

         “It’s a good thing that we canned that guy. Look at him down there, playing to the crowd.  He’s giving them what they want, and they’re eating it up.”

         “Do you think that he is some sort of commie?

         “Nah, more of a religious fanatic, a harmless shaman.”

         As they watched, J.C. was handed a bullhorn so the steadily growing masses  could hear him.

         “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. Give, and it shall be given unto you….For with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.”

         Far above, looking wistfully out the window, the senior vice president thought:

         “Too bad.  What a waste. I kind of liked the kid.”

          But given the loud speaker system that J.C. now commanded the Morgan Goldman executives heard him as he bellowed:

         “But I say unto you, love your enemies.”

         Which alarmed the senior vice president.

         “Hey, he’s  crossing a line, sounding dangerous!”

         “What do you mean?”

         “For God sake, he’s telling them to love us.  It’s so damned hard to foreclose on people claiming they love you!”


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