Catch 2025
We all have a share
This ripoff of a short story was previously published on Medium a year ago and has now been updated to reflect the reality of 2025.
Yossarian was finishing his second beer as the bar he was hanging in was almost empty. Only one more couple was making out on the other side of the bar. Yossarian was minding his own business when he saw Milo Minderbinder coming in.
Yossarian didn’t want to have any dealings with Milo. It was getting late, and Yossarian’s nighty nighttime was nearing. If he could only finish this beer quietly, he’d go to sleep a happy man.
Milo saw Yossarian and jumped at the opportunity to chat over a beer. He came towards Yossarian’s table and sat down without asking permission.
“How is it going, Yossarian?” asked Milo and signaled the waitress to bring him a tall glass of beer.
“Glad to see you, Milo. I haven’t seen you around in a while,” said Yossarian, who considered himself lucky. He didn’t like Milo that much. Can I finish this beer and leave? Would that be too rude? Yossarian wondered and said nothing.
“Well, you know what that’s like… the Syndicate keeps me busy.”
“I don’t know what that’s like,” Yossarian was tired and somewhat drunk. He was not in the mood for a social sit-down.
“Right.” Milo was beginning to feel the vibe at the table, but continued talking. “Anyway, the Syndicate keeps me busy. It’s a never-ending work. I sometimes feel like the Titan Atlas, holding the heavens on my shoulders.”
He thinks he’s Atlas, chuckled internally, Yossarian. How about flying a bombing run with me, with all the flak fire around? “I’m sure you are doing a terrific job,” said Yossarian.
“And it’s not easy, just keeping the Middle East afloat is a full-time job,” he complained.
“What do you mean?” asked Yossarian, who was interested for the first time in hearing what Milo had to say. The war in the Middle East had been raging for two years now, and Yossarian was already sick of watching it on the news, but he didn’t know that Milo had something to do with it.
Milo smiled; he felt he had managed to pull Yossarian’s strings and was happy to talk. “You can say I’m involved in the conflict. In the most direct way.” He had an ‘I have a secret to share’ smile on his face. Milo could see that Yossarian was interested. Milo continued:
“You know how I always say, ‘What’s good for M&M Syndicate is good for all,’ right?”
“Sure,” Yossarian was finally interested and took a big sip of his beer.
“Well, it’s working out quite nicely; the stock price has never been higher.” The waitress brought Milo’s beer, and he took a sip. He lit a cigarette. “Cheers.” The men took a sip of their cold beers.
“I got the government to release the six billion dollars they’d frozen, sitting bored with nothing to do, in the banks. They belonged to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. I have no idea why the previous administration froze them. It was not in the interests of the Syndicate.”
“How is that part of the Syndicate’s interests?” wondered Yossarian.
“Isn’t it obvious? Iran has a share in the Syndicate. We need them to be able to buy military-grade components for their missile program,” answered Milo.
“How does the Iranian missile program align with the interests of the Syndicate?” Yossarian began to suspect he’d had this conversation with Milo eighty years ago during another devastating war.
“Isn’t it obvious again? Where do you think the Iranians are buying these military-grade components from?” Milo asked.
“From the American weapons manufacturing companies, owned by the M&M Syndicate?” guessed Yossarian.
“Bingo. German and French companies, too, have a share in the Syndicate,” answered Milo and smiled into his beer.
“Amazing,” said Yossarian and drank his beer. “I just hope this doesn’t land you in trouble with the Israelis.”
“Why would the Israelis, of all people, be angry with me? Last week, I managed to get special Congressional funding for their Iron Dome project and 2000 two-thousand-pound bombs for the F-35s, which they love so much. The Israelis love me. They have a share in the Syndicate too,” Milo inhaled his cigarette’s smoke and then drank more beer. He looked around and quietly whispered in Yoassarian’s ear, “The bombing of the Iranian Nuclear Program was really my doing. The Syndicate needs the Ayatollahs to start over; there’s a lot of money in this project. If they ever get close to the bomb, we’ll have them bombed again just to start over.“ He smiled.
“I think I know where you’re going with this,” Yossarian was amused and tipsy, “You got the UNRWA budget doubled to finance the restoration of Gaza, right? Hamas has a share in the Syndicate.”
“That’s Right,” Milo was proud of himself, “Why should a terror organization be left without means? Who’s going to buy all the Chinese steel if not Hamas for their tunnels and rockets?”
“China has a share of the Syndicate,” added Yossarian, finally understanding the bigger picture.
“Of course. The Syndicate owns the Chinese steel-producing companies. What’s good for the Syndicate is good for all, right?”
“True,” Yossarian was becoming a true believer in the power of capitalism. “Hezbollah?”
“They have a share too. Israel devastated Southern Lebanon with bombs supplied by American taxpayer money. I’m pushing for extra financial help for Lebanon through the UN Security Council, which would also be financed by the American taxpayer. Don’t worry about the poor, hard-working American, though. He works hard at the companies that produce war materials for all sides involved and has a share in the Syndicate. His net worth has never been higher. What’s good for the M&M Syndicate is good for all.” Milo smiled and was full of himself.
“Everyone has a share,” said Yossarian into his beer.
Milo was declared the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran.
He held the positions of the Leader of Hamas and the Secretary-General of Hezbollah in parallel.
He had full immunity from the Israeli Air Force strikes as the President of the State of Israel.
Milo ran for the Office of the President of the United States and won a landslide victory.
The Russians loved their new Tsar, and the Chinese Communist Party declared him General Secretary for life.
God took the backseat, running the Universe.
