Capitalism isn't the sort of girl that you want to be seen in public with these days, is she? But I don't care what the other guys say anymore - I'll gladly take her to a Washington D.C. dinner party - and sit her right down next to those shallow, brainless trophy wives that couldn't win a debate with the mirror if they tried. My honey's a keeper, and I'm not afraid to tell you why.
I don't love Capitalism because she's made me rich (although, compared to the worldwide standard of living, I suppose she has), I love her because she keeps me free; she allows me to live my life for my own purposes without some Parent-state telling me what I can and can't do.
As an American, I'm so used to this freedom that I really can't imagine what life would be without it. A few hundred years ago my forefathers got sick of Nanny Britain bossing them around, so they up and moved out - and I'd say they did pretty well for themselves. Now, I sense my country on the verge of moving in with that that meddling woman Socialism (who in a scary-old-lady way seems friendly with that crotchety Marx character from the fitness club).
But why would I leave the woman who has made my dreams come true?
So, I've set out to list my reasons for loving Capitalism - the free market system. If I'm moving anywhere, she's going with me. And if I know her the way I think I do, any move I make with her will be an upgrade.
I know I'm incurring the arrogant grins and chuckles of too-good-to-be-me university professors and White House staffers. Laugh on, and toast to Mao or Mussolini or your mother-in-law. I don't care. Because my woman has never done me wrong. I'm proud to be in love with Capitalism, and I want to the whole world to know. (If you've ever been in love before, you understand.) So, here are my reasons, America: