``Heckuva job, George.'' Uncle Chet raised his wine glass. ``You've accomplished everything you wanted to in the last eight years.''
``Yeah, right,'' I said, serving Buddy some spaghetti.
``I'm serious,'' said Uncle Chet. ``Didn't he set out to enrich the rich?''
``Sure he did.'' He brought his glass down. ``Remember him cooing at that lavish get-together: `Some people call you the elite. I call you my base?'''
``I'll never forget that,'' said Alice, child of the '60s with the long silver hair.
``Truer words were never spoken,'' said Uncle Chet. ``Bush Two is the best tool the rich have ever had for lining their pockets. He's lowered their taxes, cut their liability, and thanks to the Republican economy, no one has any trouble finding a maid anymore.''
``That's one way to look at it,'' I said.
``That's the only way to understand it,'' said Uncle Chet. ```Follow the money.' Isn't that what they say? Well, follow the money over the last eight years and you'll begin to appreciate the magnitude of the Bush heist. Because when a nation racks up $5 trillion in debt, someone got those dollars.''
``Who?'' asked the little miscreant, our 10th-grader, as she eyed the man with the white beard.
``Well, not the poor,'' he said, serving himself. ``The poor don't have any money and the middle class have less than they used to.''
``Then it's the rich,'' said Buddy, who'll soon be 8.
``Bush is commander in chief in a class war, and the rich are winning,'' said Uncle Chet. ``Actually, the economy is doing great; we have more billionaires than ever. They just don't dare admit it.''
``Isn't that going to change with the depression?'' asked Hon, who'd brought rolls to the table.