The Opinion "We shouldn't eat the rich" has died after being gnawed to the bone by a horde of addled geriatrics while on a skiing vacation in Aspen, Colorado. Born in the halcyon days of brotherly love and public order, the Opinion served to guide the less fortunate of the nation in their eating habits, admonishing them to refrain from dining on the wealthier members of society. After a pleasant childhood spent eating slaughtered animals, it left its home and became deeply embedded into the fabric of the social contract, free from any hint or pangs of cannibalistic urges.
After the fall of the Dark Prince in 1974 the Opinion spent the next few decades touring the country, sharing its message of Wealthy Free Eating as part of the They'll Shoot You if You So Much as Try and Nibble Them campaign. The promotion was so successful that no rich people were eaten in the United States for the next 35 years (the rich did continue to pay to have people lick them) even as poverty was increasing its presence. It was only when the richest citizens tried to fuck everybody out of their Social Security that poor mouths began to salivate when riding the bus through wealthy neighborhoods, and slowly the forks began to rise in anticipation of an orgy of flesh. As the New Year came knocking on the back porch door, barbecues across the 50 states began to sizzle and spit with the grease of bankers, insurance magnates, lobbyists, media moguls, fossil fuel executives and trust fund niblets, with nary a vegetable to be seen. Care for a nice Pinot Noir with your Upper Class Cutlets? Perhaps a slice of Derivative au Vin?
In lieu of flowers the family of the Opinion asks that you use caution when attempting to consume the rich, advising that a little patience goes a long way. Sure, upper class have the police and the military, but they'll run out of bullets eventually, and when they do, bam--they're what's for dinner.
NOTE: this is the last in the Opinuary series. I have been honored to serve the General in my capacity of murdering an opinion a week for the better part of two years, and am grateful for the company of our devoted and agitated commentators.
My respect and admiration for the General knows no bounds--his writing is so good it's almost like he's doing a parody! He's that good! May his prostate never dangle!
My best to all, and may your Opinions live to a ripe old age before collapsing in a heap of rot and despair. In lieu of flowers dance with a fern.