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In Prasie of the Robber Baron “We, the people…” Dark words, those.  Good seldom follows them – however elegant the parchment might be. They appeal to our basest instincts. “We, the people…” What, you mean my people?  Of course!  My Dunbar Tribe – the 100-150 people whom I can feel empathy for.  Within our tribe there’s status and privilege, of course – the Old Man has the nicest car, the Young Wolf is dating the hottest tail – but all those differences are earned, aren’t they?  And at the end of the day all of the pack members are provided...