They are the worst parasites among us. However, these particular blood suckers are known to us, even revered by many, often considered upstanding and envied for their ambition. They do not dwell within our bodies, but within our extended system, around us, as if they are one of us. You may be thinking of monsters, such as those in Mimic or Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But it was never their bodies that were copied or cloned. What was infiltrated was there minds, their hearts, their souls. And the infection was itself revered by many, though it wrought havoc on the world—greed.
Who are these tainted beings that we may call “neighbor” or “friend,” maybe even “lover” or “love of our life”? They are those whose existence depends upon the bounty of the do-littles and do-nothings who have taken far more than they have earned, many born with it or the opportunity to snatch it from others. They feed upon the food of those who have too much, believing their existence is integral to the survival of all, when their absence would serve the majority exponentially more—and they go by the name of “finance guy.”
Yes, there are those that rival these parasites in degeneracy, in self-delusion of personal value. Bloated, perverse heads of megachurches for example, brazen cult leaders who have no claim to piety and are, almost invariably, horrendous criminals. But it is the financier who enables them. It is the financier, by whatever alias—banker, wealth advisor, investor, stock broker, or simply “finance guy”— who facilitate layoffs, repossessions, sometimes deadly cost-cutting, investments in kill machines and other unscrupulous activities and businesses, even drug cartels—any lucrative misery that can serve to “maximize profits.” It is the financier who lines his pockets with the wealth of the already wealthy, building mountains of unearned zeroes for those who do nothing … or nothing worth what they take. They are tapeworms, but they believe themselves indispensable. But, in truth, at a certain point, wealth breeds wealth without any intervention, becoming a vacuum. But the parasite needs its piece.
You may know them by name. They are, generally, like everyone else. They have spouses and children. They belong to bowling leagues and donate to charities. They attend church, though there is no actual penance in them for what they do because they do not believe that what they do is bad, though their own Savior cast them and their kind out. But the dirty secret is that avarice is their whole impetus, a sickness they volunteered to contract, and it twists their souls in myriad ways, often unseen by the public. Behind their sheens of good citizenry, they tend to be the emotional abusers, the controllers, the cheaters, and the perverse sexual sadists. Their chosen avenue for existence overlaps far too often with the psyches of sociopaths. But they’re good talkers, sly charmers, able to make even the most skeptical into believers in their benevolence.
But these are not the worst parasites. “How can that be?” you may ask. How can those whose entire existence is predicated upon externalized misery for most for the benefit of the relative few, some who violate even their own creed for it, not be the worst?” Because my naive friend, the worst are those who live off them. Have you ever seen a leech attached to a leech? For that is what their spouses are, and what their children are prone to become. It takes a particular vein of selfishness to become enthralled to an open parasite, for, no matter how charming the man, or woman, the reek of greed is pervasive and the effects of their ventures apparent. One must be wholly sociopathic and self-serving to live off another who lives off those who earn nothing themselves.
And, if all you know are these parasites, if these are the type of people who constitute your world and you have never seen through them, if they are your idea of important people, if you sleep with them, reproduce with them, then you are as great a monster as they.