Dean ‘The Invisible Economist’ Baker Kidnaps Alan Greenspan

Dear God,

It hasn’t been a dream. I thought it was a nightmare. But it’s definitely neither. Waking up in Ann Arbor last Friday morning, it was like my eyes were stuck open no matter how hard I tried to close them. Well, they still sort of stuck since my eyelids are transparent, like in the movies. Things flowed so much better after I determined my hand in relation to my penis. Now I’m on the run.

This week, I’m going to need your help. I don’t know how lasting this invisibility is, so I want to make the most if it while I can. I don’t want to do anything illegal, or too illegal. I’m not interested in killing, raping, or ruining anybody. Okay, I can think of a number of people I want to embarrass to death. But it is more important to me to promote my book “False Profits: Recovering from the Bubble Economy” and maybe pants the Washington establishment in the process.

The book signing that afternoon at Border’s gave me an idea. Give me a sign if you think this is a good idea. There were a few balloons as decorations, so I burst them it just so happened near a pimply-faced kid during my presentation for added effect. So what would happen if I popped Robert Rubin’s zits by surprise? And not just Rubin either. There are thousands…

Okay, so I already popped a zit on Larry Summers’ nose. I’m sort of sorry I made him bleed, but it was thrilling. I left my book for him, signed of course, in his home office. I also nailed all this office furniture to the ceiling. It nearly gave Alan Greenspan a heart attack. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that I kidnapped him. He was an easy catch. He was trying to have sex with his wife on their cold marble floor at the time. They such freaks for Ayn Rand, you know?

I don’t know when I’ll return Greenspan. I’m having too much fun blowing bubbles in his face, though I am getting tired of changing his adult diapers every hour. The guy just can’t control his bladder. You’d think he could hold it together better because of his power over “professional economists.” At least the “rugged individualists” at the Federal Reserve get paid to wipe his ass.

In all honesty, if this power is the result of Bill Ayers pranking me with a magical potion, I’ll kill him! Who knows what chemicals he put in my coffee yesterday? There’s no telling what else he had stowed away all those years underground. And I’m not even running for public office either. It’s likely that he timed it so that the potion will wear off while I’m…

Oops! I hear Greenspan moaning again. Time for his next round of bubbles. He’s so stubborn. He won’t even acknowledge them, even as they pop on his greasy face. Pop. Pop. Pop.

In Your Image,
Dean Baker