A LITTLE OVER A YEAR AGO, Ralph Nader, whose name when indiscreetly uttered aloud tends to induce apoplexy in the captains of commerce and industry, published a book with the astonishing title Only the Super-Rich Can Save Us!

A formidable tome of over 700 pages (we weep when we think of how many trees it took to supply the paper), it's a utopian fantasy, a 21st Century refrain of sorts of Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward. Just as the latter served to propagate Bellamy's societal take, Only the Super-Rich Can Save Us! provides a handy platform for Ralph's political notions.

The plot is a model of simplicity. Under the inspired direction of—who else?—Warren Buffett, 17 billionaires and mere millionaires (the latter, a lesser group consisting mostly of celebrities, were included, we guess, in the interests of economic and gender diversity), set out to right what's wrong with the U.S.A. and, like most fairy tales, this one ends on a happy note.

What made us think of Ralph's foray into fiction (his critics sneer that a lot of the things he writes fall into that category, but let's not be rude, please) was Warren Buffett's disclosure last week that 40 of what The Wall Street Journal nicely described as "mega-wealthy people" agreed to join Warren and Bill Gates Jr. in pledging to give away a healthy chunk of their wealth over the course of their lifetimes or as a bequest when they throw off this mortal coil. (Yes, Virginia, even mega-wealthy people pass on.)

A clear case of life imitating art. Hard times, in any case, do beget strange behavior, like Ralph Nader, the ultimate gadfly of the Establishment, proposing the mantle of the nation's savior be conferred on the super-rich. Or, the affluent beyond dreams of avarice seeking to burnish their tarred image by filling the coffers of charity (we gladly grant exemption from crass motives to Gates and Buffett, whose desire to share their wealth is not of recent vintage).

We strongly suspect that much of this idiosyncratic behavior is a response to what might be called the "riches rage" that suffuses the rising tide of populism throughout the country. Bankers and hedge-fund managers now rank somewhere below child molesters in the public's esteem. The only people in greater disfavor are incumbent politicians, and it doesn't much matter what their party label.

That being so prompts another example of a profoundly peculiar impulse: Why in the world are the Republicans drooling with excitement at the prospect of their taking control of the House and scoring big in the Senate come November? Don't they realize that, if indeed they do achieve anticipated gains and grab seats in significant numbers away from the bumbling Democrats, in its current dark mood the populace sure as shooting will turn its wrath on them in a blink?

Unless, of course, this sorry excuse for a recovery suddenly comes to life. Which simply isn't in the cards, as Friday's sorrowful report on what happened to jobs in July made crystal clear. For the second month in a row, employment remained essentially dead in the water.

As expected, with the exodus of the 143,000 temporary census employees, the Bureau of Labor Statistics reported a loss in jobs over all of 131,000. The private sector added 71,000 slots, quite a bit fewer than the 90,000-100,000 expected by the always-hopeful Street sages. The unemployment rate held at 9.5%, again mostly by virtue of a shrinkage in the workforce. But those bland figures fail to tell the whole sad story.

For openers, the June total was revised down by nearly 100,000. What that means is that, in fact, July saw a grand total of 4,000 non-census jobs added. Moreover, as the knowledgeable Dean Baker of the Center for Economic Policy and Research points out, a goodly portion of the 71,000 private-sector additions are less encouraging than a cursory glance would suggest.

Specifically, he cites the 36,000 hires in manufacturing. Most of this increase springs from a 20,500 gain in auto industry employment and a 9,100 rise of jobs in fabricated metals. The great bulk of these, he says, basically reflect the fact that the auto makers didn't shut down as they usually do in July to change models.

"The underlying rate of job growth in manufacturing," Dean asserts, " is very weak, even if at all positive."

As to the small uptick last month in average hours worked (all in the goods-producing sector), that merely nudged the number back to where it stood in May. And Dean insists there is "zero evidence to support the claim that firms were reluctant to hire because of uncertainty, since this would imply they were increasing hours," which they're decidedly not doing. He adds that nominal wages edged up at a paltry 1.4% annual rate, "also not a good sign."

And he concludes rather gloomily, "with the end of the inventory cycle, a huge wave of state and local cutbacks and further declines in house prices on the way, the situation looks bleak for the second half of 2010." You can say that again, Dean.

OUR FRIENDS PHILIPPA DUNNE and Doug Henwood at the Liscio Report are more forgiving (certainly than we are). So they view the July employment picture as indicating that "the job market isn't falling apart, but it is suffering from what the docs call a failure to thrive." We're sure that makes you feel a whole lot better.

Despite their innate generosity, though, they do point out a few less than salutary items as they comb their way through the report. One is that by the so-called household measure, employment fell by 159,000—or, when adjusted to match the payroll concept, by a not inconsiderable 315,000.

The dynamic duo also note that over the past year, the labor force has contracted by 791,000. And they ruefully comment, "In percentage terms, we haven't seen anything like this sort of contraction in the labor force since the early 1950s—but that was during the mobilization for the Korean War, when the total civilian population also shrank."

Now, of course, the civilian population is growing, not shrinking. And Philippa and Doug remind us that the labor force did not decline during the deep recessions of the mid-1970s and early 1980s. Obviously, we're dealing with a much different and more obdurate animal this time around.

The probability of someone on the dole finding a job last month fell to 21.5% (from 22.7% in June)—"not quite an all-time low, but not far from it."

The number of people unemployed 27 weeks or longer declined in July by 179,000, which, say the Liscio pair, "might be good news," but they caution it's quite possible those unfortunates just up and quit the labor force entirely.

They wind up their review of the July data with the not completely reassuring observation that "the job market is following the post-financial-crisis recession script all too well." And they warn, "If this continues, we can expect only very modest gains in employment in the coming months."

A possibility—we'd say probability—that leads them, good souls both, to fervently hope "that something gives soon, because at this rate, it will take nine years to make up the loss in private sector jobs." A dire prospect that they reasonably expect to cause mounting "pressures for more stimulative measures."

As it happens, we may not have long to wait to see if that stimulator par excellence, Ben Bernanke, is moved to add still further to the Fed's bloated holdings of mortgage-backed securities and kindred dubious assets, or perhaps old Ben will try some tricky new monetary maneuver. We may find out as soon as this Tuesday, when he and his jolly cohorts are slated to gather in solemn conclave. Keep tuned.

THE CONVICTION THAT THE TRULY depressing jobs report would light a fire under the Fed or Congress, or both, to do something to crank up the economy is what kept the stock market's reaction relatively muted after an initial gasp. Of course, Wall Street is so soaked in perennial optimism that it would take nothing short of the Apocalypse to douse its current euphoria, and maybe even that wouldn't do it.

And we have to concede, for well over a year now, the market has shrugged off the caveats thrown at it by worrywarts like us and gone its merry way, with only the most occasional pit stop. And even when the torrent of liquidity Uncle Sam has so vigorously been pouring into the financial system showed signs of running dry, investors have taken heart by assuring themselves there's always plenty more where that came from.

Besides, at 18 times trailing earnings, the conventional wisdom in the Street insists that valuations are not stretched, but quite the contrary, stocks are supposedly cheap.

And yes, no argument that the market has thumbed its nose at seemingly bad news. Yes, too, the powers that be are likely to bend yet again to the siren call of more stimulus. But this time, if we dare say, is different.

For one thing, stocks aren't down in the basement as they were back in March of 2009; the Dow is some 4,000 points higher. Nor, unless you've been lost in space the past year, can you expect anything resembling a rousing economic rebound. So far as stimulus goes, there are lots of reasons, political and geopolitical as well as financial, that suggest we may have already gone to that well once too often.

And as a wise man asked in this space a few weeks ago, where is it written that a market that in a not-too-distant past valued stocks at 60 times earnings can't value them, if the outlook sours, at six to eight times earnings?