He sits like a majesty in a hotel room in Cleveland awaiting entry of those seeking to kiss his hand(or butt) in hope that King James will allow them to remain in his royal presence and listen to his golden words of wisdom. Movie stars, rock personalities hurry to his room to sing the virtues of Chicago or New York or the southern clime of Florida in hopes their majesty will arise and turn his head toward the direction from whence their supplicants come. He is the ultimate capitalist. Oh, there are sport fans, but he does not give a damn about what they think or desire because the only consideration in the capitalist world of LeBron James is making money–he being the one making the money. Cleveland, perhaps, he will longer but only if they bestow on his royal highness a sum equivalent to about $200 million. Or, he might take a shot at New York where reportedly they believe he could earn over a billion dollars, what with commercials.
Each day a new contingent grovels at his feet fearing to even raise their eyes toward his holy face in fear they might provide the wrong look at the wrong time. Isn’t he the perfect capitalist– I have the goods, I decide the price, if you don’t do as I desire, then I take my goods elsewhere. In any case, fuck the fans. The world exists for LeBron James and his ego.
I await the proposal to place his visage on Mt. Rushmore.