The Holy Effing Balance

You ever notice how everybody’s got a goddamn religion now?
Not the old pew-and-wafer type—
I mean Capitalism with a capital “C,”
or Socialism with a hammer-and-sickle tramp stamp.

Two rival cults,
hurling ideological Molotovs
while the rest of us are just tryin’ to pay rent
and maybe buy a used Toyota that doesn’t smell like sadness.

Every time some slick-haired pundit yells
“Free markets fix everything!”
I see Gordon Gekko snorting deregulation
off the mirrored table of the American dream.

And when some starry-eyed comrade chants
“Full socialism now!”
I picture a DMV line
that stretches to the goddamn horizon,
where everyone’s waiting for permission to buy light bulbs.

Neither side works alone.
Freedom, that fragile bastard,
dies from starvation or obesity.
Too little control, chaos.
Too much, rot.

You want a free society?
You build it like Frankenstein’s monster
half capitalist muscle,
half socialist heart
and pray the damn thing doesn’t eat you.

Capitalism’s a beautiful motherfucker.
A Camaro engine purring on human greed.
It builds rockets, diners, Tik Tok, and ergonomic spatulas.
It turns “I wanna be rich” into the iPhone.

But give it no brakes?
Welcome to Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.
You get Exxon.
You get child labor.
You get billionaires shooting themselves into orbit
while your grandma rations insulin.

That ain’t freedom.
That’s feudalism with better Wi-Fi.

And socialism?
Oh, the misunderstood older sibling of common sense.
Not communism, no matter what Uncle Ron says
between bites of dry turkey and conspiracy.

Socialism just means
maybe people shouldn’t have to die
because they’re broke.
Maybe bridges shouldn’t crumble like Jenga.
Maybe kids should eat.

But pure socialism?
That’s a Soviet hangover.
Innovation turned into paperwork.
Joy rationed out by committee.
Great intentions;
Howard the Duck execution.

America is the cocktail bar of contradictions.
Half Wall Street, half Woodstock.
We love a good hustle
but cry at our neighbor’s GoFundMe.
Scream “Freedom!”
while cashing government checks.

We are living proof
that capitalism and socialism can co-parent
(poorly, sure)
but still keep the lights on.

When the market face-plants,
who picks it up?
The taxpayer.

2008?
Wall Street was the drunk driver;
socialism was the tow truck.

COVID?
Same story.
Private companies made vaccines,
but public money built the launchpad.

Socialism and capitalism
spooning under the blanket of survival.

Look back.
The New Deal:
socialism in a red, white, and blue cape.

FDR didn’t kill capitalism.
He saved its ass.

Social Security.
Public works.
Labor protections.
Less knife fight, more handshake.

Then the G.I. Bill rolled in—
college degrees like candy.
That wasn’t free market magic
that was socialism fertilizing the American dream.
And capitalism?
It sprouted suburbs, diners, and strip malls
like kudzu in July.

Then the 1980’s hit.
Reagan, baby.
Big hair, small empathy.

“Trickle-down” economics,
because who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?
Greed was good.
Wall Street was holy.
Every cubicle became a confessional.

They said the rich would piss prosperity,
but it evaporated mid-air.
We deregulated everything—
banks, morals, common sense.

The market acted like a frat bro on spring break,
and when it puked on itself,
we called it “a correction.”

Meanwhile,
say “social program”
and folks lose their shit
like you’re summoning Stalin’s ghost.

But you drive on public roads.
You send kids to public school.
You call 911.
Congrats, you’re already a weekday socialist.

Socialism’s the infrastructure;
capitalism’s the traffic.
You need both
the road and the driver,
the rulebook and the ride.

Look at Europe.
The Scandinavians cracked the code.

Denmark taxes you like a mugger,
but hands you healthcare, education,
and six weeks of actual vacation.
They’re not lazy
they’re free.
Freedom from fear,
not freedom to hustle until you die.

Germany?
Soziale Marktwirtschaft.
The “social market economy.”
Private industry with a conscience.
Workers on the boards.
Safety nets tight as drumskins.
It worked.
Still works.

Meanwhile, America keeps electing people
who think economics is just Monopoly
with lobbyists and game pieces
shaped like Bezos and Musk with top hats.

Freedom’s not a diet plan.
You don’t go “all carbs” or “all protein.”
You need the steak and the salad.

Capitalism’s the steak—juicy, dangerous.
Socialism’s the greens—bitter but necessary.
Skip either,
you’re dead in different ways.

Healthcare?
Same story.
America treats health like a luxury brand.
Best doctors money can buy
but only if you’ve got the money.

Pure capitalism?
Pay or die.
Pure socialism?
Wait or die.

The hybrid?
Messy, sure,
but it saves lives.
Medicare, the VA, Obamacare
imperfect love letters
to human decency.
Private sector still innovates
because competition keeps it honest.
Compassion and profit
doing an awkward, necessary tango.

Education? Same circus.
Public schools are socialism.
Innovation’s capitalism.
You need both.
Socialism says every kid gets a shot.
Capitalism says what you do with it
is on you.
That’s balance.
That’s democracy with homework.

Democracy.
The breathing apparatus.
Without air,
capitalism turns blue,
socialism turns gray.

Democracy keeps ‘em both in check and
tells the rich to share the sandbox
and the bureaucrats to shut up and listen.

China skipped that part.
Mixed the economics, forgot the freedom.
Got Blade Runner without Harrison Ford
efficient, soulless, neon misery.

Pandemic?
The Great Unmasking.
Everyone’s a socialist
when the apocalypse hits.

Stimulus checks, rent freezes, bailouts
that’s socialism
in a trench coat labeled “emergency relief.”

And the vaccines?
Private companies, public money.
Capitalism built the syringe.
Socialism filled it.
Team effort,
baby.

When the monkey piss hits the fan,
ideology doesn’t clean the mess.
Balance does.

The market loves to yell “Let me run free!”
then whimpers “Help me, Daddy Government!”
The government loves to promise salvation
but can’t pay for it without the market.
They’re co-dependent drunks
stumbling through the alley of civilization,
leaning on each other to make it home.

And we’re carrying both.
Every teacher, every nurse, every barista
we fund the roads
and weave the nets.
We are the balance.

But we keep electing purity junkies
who call compromise “betrayal.”
Ideologues in cosplay,
stuck in 1985,
still quoting Rocky IV.

Remember Rocky IV?
Balboa vs. Drago.
USA vs. USSR.
And what happens?
Rocky bleeds, learns humility,
wins the damn fight.
That’s the metaphor.
Strength and compassion.
The blend.
The balance.

The founders knew this.
They built a system that argues for a living.
Checks.
Balances.
No kings,
no corporations with divine rights.
Democracy was meant to brawl
a bar fight of ideas.
That’s freedom.
Not silence.
Not purity.
Conflict, managed with reason.

Capitalism used to be jazz
chaotic, sexy, human.
Now it’s elevator music for billionaires.
Socialism used to be protest songs
now it’s PowerPoint slides for wannabe revolutionaries.

You want it to work?
Put them back in the same band.
Capitalism on lead guitar.
Socialism on rhythm.
Democracy on vocals
singing “Don’t Be an Asshat” in 4/4 time.
Be sure to clap on 2 and 4, please.

You can’t legislate morality,
but you can make decency profitable.
That’s the trick.
Reward creativity.
Punish cruelty.
Tax billionaires enough to fund schools
without making them martyrs.
You don’t kill the golden goose—
you make it pay rent.

Here’s the truth:
Every nation that works
is already hybrid.
Japan, Canada, Germany, the UK —
same formula, different accents.
The fight isn’t whether to mix.
It’s who controls the thermostat.

Too cold?
People freeze.
Too hot?
Innovation melts.
We need leaders who read the room,
not zealots screaming at thermostats.

Freedom’s not a destination.
It’s a high wire
strung between greed and equality.
Fall one way? Tyranny of the rich.
Fall the other? Tyranny of the bureaucrat.
The trick is staying upright
long enough to pass the torch
without setting the tent on fire.

We’re not there yet,
but we could be.
If we stopped worshiping markets like gods
and treating compassion like a sin.
If we remembered
that freedom’s a team sport.

Nobody wins alone.
Not the billionaire.
Not the welfare kid.
Not the exhausted middle class.

We build the bridge together,
or drown separately
in the river of righteous bullshit.

So yeah…
capitalism and socialism,
both fucked up solo.
But together?
Batman and Robin.
Vodka and tonic.
Chaos and order.

You don’t pick one.
You pour them right.
Sip, savor,
and stay sober enough to steer.

Because governing a free society
isn’t about purity.
It’s about not crashing the car
while the passengers
are still arguing over the map.

Freedom isn’t free
but it’s a hell of a lot cheaper
when we split the bill.

(Mic drop. Long exhale. Applause. More drinks purchased and slid across the bar.)