Speaking to a boisterous crowd in New York’s financial district, Yopsvoyomatsky said: “The neuro-economic manipulators have addicted us to consumption in order to enrich themselves. And like drug addicts we must steal and lie to indulge our habit.”

He called on all Americans to ” break the daisy chain of deceit that has strangled our lives. Stop lying and cheating and bribing each other.”

He called for a “no sale Sunday” to protest the exploitation of the “consuming classes.”

“Can you go cold turkey on frivolous expense?” he challenged. “Can you show the manipulators that you can bring their system to a crashing halt?”

Yopsvoyomatsky, a recent immigrant from Pinsk, was on the first stop of a publicity tour to promote his new book “The Sociopathology of the Financial System ” He led a contingent of “Desktop Desperadoes,” writers who claim their books are so subversive they cannot even pay to have them published to Border’s Books, hoping to have what he called a “guerilla signing.” When turned away by store security he set up a table outside the store, grabbed a cordless mic and harangued the lunchtime crowd.

“Do you know what happens to sheep? They are slaughtered. Lemmings follow each other to mutual destruction. Rats under stress consume themselves. This is what they are doing to you.”

“Who?” someone asked.

“Them…” Yopsvoyomatsky pointed to a skyscraper across the street. “The sleek, well-tailored men in the corner offices with the gleaming limousines waiting to whisk them to gourmet restaurants for caviar and champagne and later”–he sighed with a wistful look–”into the arms of their beautiful mistresses…”

A broker, unshaven, tie askew, shirt flopping untucked out of his trousers, stopped in disbelief. “Who?” he demanded.

Grunting with the strain,Yopsvoyomatsky hoisted his eleven hundred page book. “It is all here in painstaking analytic detail. They have created a polity of thieves…”

“A what?” the harried broker demanded.

Yopsvoyomatsky riffled the pages. “Under socialism people cheated and stole because they had nothing. Under capitalism they cheat and steal because they don’t have enough. Under socialism the nomenklatura had it all…”

The broker shook his head with an angry squint.

“The what?”

“The privileged classes,” Yopsvoyomatsky said. “The ones with the powerful jobs, who shopped in special stores, had Black Sea dachas. Even a special lane to drive their cars. They had everything. The rest of us had to cheat, steal and bribe to survive…”

“That was Russia,” the broker said.

“What is the difference?” Yopsvoyomatsky said. “You have here capitalist nomenklatura. Bankers, hedge fund, private equity. They are allowed to create and circulate wealth among themselves. When they are ensnared by their own greed their cronies in government free them. Then they return the favor by hiring cronies to eight figure jobs…But they have done something much worse…”

“Tell them, Igor,” a Desktop Desperado shouted and confided to a friend: “this is cool…”

“They have turned all of us into thieves, cheaters and liars so that we can continue buying pointless electronic toys they foist on us,” Yopsvoyomatsky shouted. “You sir…” He approached the broker. “You give buy recommendation on bad stock to increase the value of your holdings…”

“That’s a lie!” the broker shouted.

“Your client who you lied to owns restaurant that charges you thirty dollars for a piece of farm-raised fish that they say is wild caught. A taxi driver who buys gasoline for price inflated by your speculation fixes the meter to raise the fare. At home, the plumber who lost mortgage on sub-prime insured by your CDO charges you thousands when all he had to do was replace a washer. And to add insult to injury he is having an affair with your wife, who is angry because she saw passionate e mail from your receptionist…”

The broker gulped and reddened. “So that’s why he’s been coming every day…And billing me for his time…”

“You open your mail, sir. The phone company has billed you two dollars for fictitious calls, calculating that you won’t spend an hour on the phone to get the money back. Your credit card interest has been arbitrarily doubled and you have penalty for not paying. The hideously expensive private school wants a contribution or it won’t even consider your superbly gifted children. The nanny has given your credit card and account numbers to identity thieves in Slovakia. Meanwhile, her twenty dollar prepaid phone only has seventeen dollars in calls…”

” My God, you’re right,” the broker said with a stricken look. “We’re all stealing from each other.”

A contingent of motorcycle cops from the security checkpoint up the block arrived. “You are creating a traffic hazard, sir. You’ll have to disperse…”

Yopsvoyomatsky climbed on his rickety table. “And look. They send the Cossacks to attack us …” The legs buckled and the table collapsed. Yopsvoyomatsky tumbled and was stunned by one of his falling books. “Police brutality,” he shouted.

He marched down Broadway, shouting:

“What do we want?”

The crowd shouted, “No sale Sunday!”

“When do we want it?”

The crowd was puzzled.

“Sunday?”

He arrived at the bronze statue of a bull, the symbol of BoA Merrill Lynch at Bowling Green.

“This bull my friends is perfect symbol of capitalism…”He paused for effect…” A bull screws passive cows. It takes huge shits wherever and whenever it wants and it gores anybody who comes into its pasture…” As the crowd roared he jumped on the bull’s back. “We will show this bull what we think of it…”

Police moved in quickly and took Yopsvoyomatsky into custody. He was charged with obstructing commerce, orating without a permit and attempted sodomy of a financial icon.