Disguising oneself as something as in a Halloween-type of get-up can be fairly easy.  It isn’t necessary for the person to take on the role completely of the "thing" or person they are becoming.  Posing as a wealthy, upper-class woman of taste however, is an entirely different thing.  Such was my task as my comrades asked me to present a speech to the infamous Bohemian Grove audience.  I had tricked them into thinking I was an Euro-Caucasian Poet Laureate from Cornell in New York. Thank God my older brother went there so I knew enough about it to pass it off (and the general attitude of that company) with a possible major in Foreign and Domestic Economic Policies.  In reality, I was speaking for the Homeless Defence Foundation and was going to deliver a fire-cracker speech bashing the Bohemian Grove Politicians and business conglomerates in their effort to make work impossible to get for the financially challenged and thus worsening the state of America today.  I hated the fact that I was blatantly using my Harvard buddies for this explicit purpose, but in the interest of all humanity, I felt I had no choice.  So what would I say?  Obviously, that they were a bunch of Darwinist animals who would stop at nothing to accumulate unnecessary amounts of wealth when in fact adding the poor to their payrolls would be ultimately beneficial.

    It was hard to get past the stench of the rich as I passed through the gates to that peaceful place in the forest and not secretly want to "be one of them."  However, I frequently reminded myself that I was the "Jesse James" of our modern times and I had a job to do!  Finally, I met up with all of the committee members and the senators and the really important people I’ve never heard of.  I actually got to shake hands with a Mitsubishi exec.  I wanted to strangle him, but suppressed my instincts.  Then they all settled down, as we mingled.  I was asked inevitably how Cornell was going and did I know this person and how is old So-and-so doing but I remained courteous and willing to answer.  Then it was 6:00.  My speech was in half an hour! I became suddenly nervous with all the what-ifs dancing around in my head like visions of sugarplums.  I glanced nervously around to see if my anxiety was too obvious and I noticed something interesting.  All the people would be very nice to each other’s faces but when the person was out of earshot, they would slander them, look at them contemptuously and sometimes imitate them in the manner of children!  "So the rich aren’t all happy and I was right in my stereotype," I thought.  This would come into play during my speech as I exemplified how the poor are also very unhappy like yourselves.  Would this universality be dangerous?  I decided to risk it, since putting the rich and poor on the same level is bound to get someone irate!  I felt a secret triumph that distilled the butterflies in my stomach as I rose to the podium at 6:20.

  *   *   *

I delivered my speech and much to my surprise, no one left and they even let me finish.  It was so awkward after that last word to hear nothing but silence.  No one clapped.  No one looked at one another however, which was good.  Perhaps they were reflecting on what had been said.  I talked of the poor not getting a fair chance because the very people that put it there has always aborted the funding for all of the education and housing.  I spoke of the hypocrisy of their protests that the only reason the poor would not be motivated to change their lives was that they were too afraid of oppression and discrimination to go out into the workforce.  After I stepped down, I stared out at my "judges" that would determine the fates of so many people indirectly and silently wondered if they knew the power they wielded was almost God-like, would they also be merciful?  Then one single person started clapping and it cut through the air like a paper bullet.  I let out a sigh of relief and as the applause enveloped me, I knew that somehow, in some small form, I had made a change in the lives of people that were otherwise at the mercy of circumstance.