Little Miss Liberty


Dearest Reader,

Enclosed find the notes I have compiled in researching my new book, Little Miss Liberty. It was not my objective to write this story, but somehow little things happen and opportunities demand their own homage.

A few years back I bought a silver coin, a piece of bullion, on a bet that this slug of silver would keep pace with the price of gasoline. In fact, it did better, and I can purchase more gasoline with the original $9 per ounce of element ag than I could in 2005 or so. Why is that? And why is there such a love/hate relationship with silver? It’s considered the most volatile of market metals, clinging to gold like a Remora, then plunging on it’s own as if a tossed off lover.

What is the mystique behind silver? Who’s the man behind the curtain? Why did the L Frank Baum original of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz portray the virtuous Dorothy with silver slippers, and not ruby like in the film version? There’s lots of essays on the silver slippers and the golden cap–more metaphors around silver than fleas at a mattress auction. Does a werewolf die if he drinks colloidal silver? Would I? And exactly, what makes silver the people’s currency?

There’s lots of fluff and gruff about silver in dank coffeehouses and Wall Street derivatives columns. Apparently, there could be one hundred times more silver sold in paper promises than there actually exists on the planet. Somebody has secrets about silver.

I want to know. Well, I want to know enough to write a rousing fictional escapade about silver, and maybe it’s gaudy cousin, gold.

Silver is sexy.

Okay, I will introduce to you my notes, the storyline as I discover it. I have a premise — real estate crash, default, bust — an impending doom of debt despair is about to flood the markets faster than iPad apps. What were considered assets are about to become liabilities. And those notional values are about to locate their real worth. How much would stuff cost if there was no lending? No usury? Welcome to the spiraling world of Little Miss Liberty.

Enter Natalie, Nat for short, as she wakens to a world of the backyard pool and patio. Nat lives in an estate garnered by her market trading mother and her realtor father. All is bliss, unless you factor that Nat’s up and up neighborhood is succumbing to default. Foreclosures up, common sense down. It turns out, that in an economy of high debt and high leverage, holding title on great tracks of urban estate ain’t such a good idea.

Nat, in a predicament of parental abandonment, has to flee—but to where? On the advice of her earth mother confidante, Nat finds herself heading north, and caught in high speed cat and mouse dealing between a cult of sovereign citizens and a bureaucratic coup that’s sweeping the land. Government goes rogue. Middle class goes rogue. Repo guys go rogue. Everybody goes rogue. About the only person who’s still maintaining decorum is the dumpster diving can collector — everyone gets a moment to shine.

Will Nat find her parents? Will the power paradigm subdue an economy ready to buck off consumer and government alike? Why does there have to be extra-terrestrials in every quality action tale?

I have no idea, but together we will discover bags of amusement as we journey into a diabolical debt spree called Little Miss Liberty.

Now, before I start pumping out chapters of research notes, you might want to peruse some of my recent bluster on economics, power freaks, and human nature, click here for the power paradigm papers. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m making this up as I go.

ever your trusty observationalist,

Little Miss Liberty © 2012 Gaboo for
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