rentier economy

Considering Dear Leader’s fondness for non-committal licensing out his word and bond to resorts, vodka diploma-mills and other enterprises that he’s not particularly invested in (but only too happy to put ahead of national interests on a geopolitical arena), we discover that the apples don’t fall from the tree. Dear Leader’s son, Junior—aside from running his father’s business empire in trust, is an avid public-relations consultant for an Oklahoma firm that transmogrified its failed business model (polling via PDAs) into the modus operandi of an unabashed patent-troll, accusing multitudes of infringement.
Thanks to Junior’s influence and family-trademark unrelenting, uncompro- mising attacks that would wear on the stamina and resistance of anyone, most defendants—without owing to being in the wrong—will just settle and pay Junior to go away, since there’s no such provision like having the loser pay court fees in America to discourage frivolous lawsuits. The fact that Junior went on record praising this firm as an innovator is awful enough (betraying a failure to grasp basic contemporary concepts about how the interwebs work) and grows exponentially worse considering that’s Junior’s father, Dear Leader, gets to appoint the agency executives that run the US Patent Office and determine its future direction and what kind of claims it will tolerate and honour.