ONCE THERE WAS AN EMPEROR whose subjects were suffering. Many of his people were without jobs, many more could not afford food, clothing or shelter because prices were rising so quickly. The ruler wanted very much to help and he sought sage advice on how to proceed.

In the large city where the emperor's palace lay, hundreds of thousands of experts and consultants lived and worked. Although they all had suggestions, they were brushed aside as "time-worn," "interventionist," or "Keynesian." One day, some swindlers arrived. They said that the plague stemmed from the sins of policymakers over the past two score and 10 years. People relied too much on government, lacking enough faith in the free market. The newcomers told everybody that they were economists, with solutions that could bring about a tremendous recovery--not the recoveries of late, where high growth came only with high inflation and bloated government deficits, but a glorious recovery spurred by the private sector with low prices. They would also cut taxes, increase of defense spending, and balance the budget. And this recovery was especially unique since it was invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office or unforgivably stupid.

"Well," the emperor said to himself in his gravelly voice, cocking his head to the right, "this is indeed a fortunate find. Not only can I garner re-election and possibly a majority in both houses, but I can say truthfully that those darned perpetually critical Democrats are, why, unforgivably stupid." He gave the swindlers all they asked for--the food stamp program, hot lunches for school children, and large chunks of medicare, medicaid, welfare, and student aid.

After a while, the emperor wanted a progress report. He sent his ambitious, young director of the Office of Management and Budget, whom he considered both clever and extremely fit for his job. The aide went to the economy room to see how things were going. He was taken aback. He rubbed his eyes and wiped his glasses. Seeing the largest vat of red ink in federal history, he gulped "none of us really understands what's going with these numbers." As he staggered back, he wondered "do you realize the greed coming to the forefront? The hogs are really feeding." Fearing that he would be called stupid or, worse, unfit for his job, he told his findings to no one, except a friend who happened to be a reporter freelancing for a major magazine. When the swindlers asked, "What do you think, isn't it lovely?" the presidential confidante responded, "Yes, great, I'll tell the emperor to stay the course."

After two years, few visible signs of the recovery emerged. But the swindlers kept on working, and hardly anyone spoke out of fear of the repurcussions. At the mid-term elections, the emperor suffered relatively few losses, maintaining the upper hand in the Senate. So the swindlers asked for more leverage--larger tax cuts, tighter money supply. The emperor complied.

Soon, it came time for the emperor to decide whether he wanted to rule for four more years--a decision based largely on whether the recovery would continue well into the crucial election year. A few weeks before Labor day--the date he set for announcing his intentions--he went to see the recovery himself. The newest figures showed that unemployment was at 9.3 percent, considerably lower than the 10.8 percent the year before, but still higher than at any time since the Great Depression. Poverty was more widespread than ever in 15 years. Inflation was down, but only until the unemployment rate started to fall. Petrified, the emperor wondered "Am I stupid? Am I unfit for my job?" Out loud, however, he talked of growth figures, housing starts, and said "This is new and dramatic evidence of the ongoing economic recovery."

All of his assistants, and all of the movers and shakers saw the same evidence. But once the emperor made his statement, they too feared reprisals, so they suppressed these bad thoughts and publically proclaimed a celebration. A leading member of the Senate howled. "We've licked the recession, "We've licked inflation...now we've got unemployment on the run." Even the normally cynical media concurred. "U.S. Jobless Rate Plunges a Half-Point to 9.5%," one headline screamed. Another paper said that "economic recovery [is] apparently gaining strength."

Heartened by this reception, the emperor walked among the people. "Hurray for the recovery, "they cheered. "Four more years," some yelled.

Suddenly, in the midst of all the joy, one small child cried forth, "I'm hungry! SOur family lost my father, my mother lost her job, and I lost AFDC payments. When will there be a recovery?"

"Listen to the innocent one," said a nearby powerbroker gently scoffing. "He asks when there is going to be a recovery." Pretty soon, other people in the crowd joined in with the chant--"When is the recovery? When is the recovery?" they shouted.

Sensing displeasure, the emperor turned to the crowd. Shaking his head back and forth, and tightly pursing his lips, he spurted "There you go again. I've had it up to my kiester with this hypercritical look at my administration. "He identified the young child as a Soviet spy, and had him placed under FBI surveillance.