Daniel stood in front of the mirror bowing and grimacing in his jail-cell sized apartment wearing a mustard yellow zuit suit, a tall red top hat, and purple shark skinned shoes. His satin waistcoat was etched in big golden paisleys crying down the lapels into pools of metaphor. He was back on the main stage again of the Grand Marx Theater.
“Desire his death, which physic did except,” was the last line Daniel said before he plunged the dagger between the shoulder blades of his adversary.
The premise of the Cal's Folly production was insidious. Sir Cal Anderson was the banker responsible for the panic of 1907, which—according to the occult history of America— was devastating to future generations in that it led directly to a few individuals having dominion over an entire republic. Sir Cal, in a secret white house chamber, conspired with Igor Aldrich and Darwin Warburg to pull their fortunes out of the market. The resultant was instant financial collapse and economic chaos. Many people lost their lives. In the aftermath, President Wilson was swindled by these same international bankers into abandoning Franklin's wishes 'that our new world be indebted to no one' and allowed the creation of a new central bank. When the blinders were lifted from Wilson's eyes, he cried, “I am a most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled and dominated Governments in the civilized world no longer a Government by free opinion, no longer a Government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a Government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men.” The irony still made Daniel give water to mad tears.
They got their pink slips in the middle of the eighteenth run. The venue manager's eyes were red from stinging waves of grief when she informed them that the Grand Marx would be torn down and a new Imperial Bank of America be built in its place. At the auction, Daniel wanted the doorknob to his dressing room, but when he opened his wallet dry weeds tumbled out. Daniel became a character in his own drama. A refugee in a war waged by the few against the many.
"Little people get punished for little things," Karl said, "Big people do big things. No one punishes them. The rulers of nations turn blind eyes, make excuses, create foreign scapegoats for crimes committed against their subjects by these giants." The mob loved seeing Daniel, a simple sharecropper from the south, triumph over banking bullies and industrial tycoons in Cal’s Folly.
Daniel, fell to his knees as random attacks fell from the sky. He pounded his fists into cold barren clay till his brown knuckles mashed into red. Daniel turned his moon face up to a beam of light shafting through the overcast and said, "I search for clues to the why. Why me I cry? What did I, a diminutive man, do to deserve to be punish’d by these bombs? What fell truths lie in the ill mechanism of a flashing rocket tail star bursting thorny roses into Independence Day? And what have we, pray I, been liberated from?"
“In mortal dealings,” Karl said to Daniel in Darwin’s den, “under the sun everyday still comes and goes. And we though many, have zero control of where these explosions land.”