There are the rulers. And there are the ruled. The serfs, the subjects, the ''little people''. Hint: that's us.
You like pizza? I do, though Dear Wife likes that the thin, crunchy crust and I don't. Her Sicilian background, I guess. Whatever. But we're not exactly the high-dollar types, and when we get pizza we either make it here, get a fresh one from Wally World, or get some sort of frozen one from wherever. That's what the wallet will bear and we're probably not all that unusual.
But then there are the rulers. The ones who tell the rest of us how to live and who blabber on regarding ''carbon footprint'' (what a crock of crap that is!) and all the rest of it. And then act otherwise. I guess when you have committed wholesale fraud on the nation, one more little action doesn't matter, does it. So, when Barrack Obama, a.k.a. Barry Soetoro, decides he wants pizza, he doesn't call Dominoes or the like, and definitely doesn't have the White House chef (isn't that a racist phrase?) bake up a Wally World one. No, he has a '' pizza chef'' flown in from St. Louis to make one. Or several pizzas; I guess he gets a volume discount, being President and all.
Read about it here.
I guess he was right. There really are two Americas.
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