Michele Bachmann receives edicts from God Himself, which many people seem to consider a selling point for her presidential bid. If she were poor, or slightly less functional, we’d all just dismiss her as an unmedicated schizophrenic and move on.
In a similar vein, thanks to the magical powers of the stock market, I am worth $20,000 more this week than I was last week, when mostly I just sat around in my underwear re-re-re-watching episodes of Battlestar Galactica. Where did that value come from? What is it a measure of? It’s a complete fiction, but somehow we all agreed that it’s a fiction I can more or less literally take to the bank.
Maybe the Cylons were right about us.