Your Bootstraps Are in My GarbageThe guy's feet, clad in purple and white sneakers, were on tip-toe. He wasn't the tallest guy in the world, so that was how he had to stand if he wanted to reach the nickel-a-pop beer cans in the bottom of my big, city-issued recycling bin. Skinny guy, too. White t-shirt. Dirty khaki pants. Grocery cart to store his profits. Note I didn't say the cart was there to store his "cans." I said it was there to store his "profits." Profits like Wal-Mart makes. Profits like Chinese factories make. Profits like bailed-out banks and sub-prime mortgage companies make. The guy wasn't just a bum either — though, in my neighborhood, there's a good chance he was a drug addict. That guy was the blessed, free market, worth-fighting-for-in-Iraq future of my country. That guy was such an American patriot that he should have been wearing a t-shirt with Glen Beck's picture on it, and I'm sure he would wear a Glen Beck t-shirt if he found one in my trash. Hell, he'd wear a Nancy Pelosi t-shirt if he found one in my trash. By February, when it gets really cold, he'll be willing to wear a Glen Beck t-shirt, a Nancy Pelosi t-shirt, a couple layers of newspaper stuffed in his pant legs and a hat made out of broken Obama promises. A real capitalist doesn't take sides, he just lets the free market work. I live in an "economically depressed area," which is what the government calls a town where everyone's driving a 9-year-old car with duct tape on the upholstery. If there's one thing we get to see every single day of our lives, it's free-market capitalism. And we admire it. Don't get me wrong. The sight of a bootstrap-pulling, small-scale capitalist free-marketing through my trash makes me want to praise the holy intent of the Founders — those awesome, Christian men who gave us the Constitution.
That guy? The guy rooting through my garbage like a pig? Why, he's the example of what this country could be if people would just stop whining. The guy rooting through my trash isn't at the beck and call of some "bloated union boss." The guy rooting through my trash isn't eligible for membership in any union. He's free, by God! And he isn't "crippled by government regulations," either. He can dig through my garbage without gloves on in sub-zero cold if he wants to, because this is America. And there's no huge bureaucracy limiting his earnings, either. No one "punishes" him for working hard. If he wants to make $8.50 every trash day, he can — and if he wants to work until he makes $9.75, he can do that, too. And he doesn't pay into Social Security, either, so he's free to invest his retirement money any way he wants. And I know what you're going to say. "The guy's a junky," you'll say. "He's probably already leeching off welfare or disability or food stamps." But if you say that, you don't know the free market. If that guy's a junky, it's just because he miscalculated, like big banks do when they make too many shaky loans or sell worthless securities. Like them, he made a mistake, and now he's getting a government bailout. And, like the big banks, he took the bailout but never quit the stuff that got him in trouble. The best thing about American-style capitalism in the 21st century is that anybody can reap big rewards if they're willing to take the risks. It's all about risk and reward. And garbage. To find out more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com COPYRIGHT 2010 by CREATORS.COM 
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