Here is small flash blast from the past, an appropriate commentary on most people’s view on their ruling class.
A Few Days in the Life of Ivan Ivanovitch
Once upon a time, a house sat silent on a hill overlooking the town of Skeptitsizm and every day Ivan Ivanovitch would gaze towards that dark gloomy place.
“Who lives in that house, Mama?” he asked.
“It is the home of the Mayor,” she replied.
“Yet we never see him here,” said Ivan.
“No, but we know he is watching, always watching.”
Ivan Ivanovitch thought for a moment. “It is the election soon. Will he come down to the Ratusha for the debate?”
His mother merely shrugged.
On the day of the debate, Ivan looked for the mysterious Mayor but he was not to be found.
“Who will you vote for?” he asked the townspeople.
For Mayor Bezumiye,” they replied.
“How can you when he did not speak!”
“Because what he said was worth listening to.”
The election arrived and Ivan watched his compatriots vote for the absent man. He was furious that they were wasting their vote. Indeed he was so angry, that when the town hall closed, he crept in and stole the ballot boxes. Then he made his way up the hill to confront the Mayor.
The house seemed deserted until he came to the drawing room overlooking the town. Seated by the window was a skeleton, wearing the Mayoral chain. Bezumiye.
Ivan sprinted back home, told his mother what he had found, what he had done.
“Of course he is dead,” she said. “Do you think we would allow a politician to tell us what to do?”
Ivan had to admit the town’s reasoning made sense. He told her about the ballot boxes.
“Return them,” she said, “no one will say anything.”
He did so and Bezumiye won by a landslide and continued to govern wisely and well.