Has anyone heard of the Multilateral Agreement on Investments (MAI)? It’s a little something being cooked up by multinational corporations that would, among other things, allow corporations to sue national governments (before biased tribunals yet) for lost investment opportunities and supersede environmental protections. But it couldn’t happen, right?

    Farmer Everman was just about to retire for the night when he heard the loud buzzing at the door. He ignored it at first, but it got louder and more insistent. When he heard the voice, he knew it was time to investigate.
    “Hey!” hollered the voice. “Open up! We’re hungry out here!”
    Who on earth could it be? Farmer Everman opened the door. It was a large locust.
    “Hey!” continued the locust without missing a beat. “Whatcha growin’ out there? There was barely enough to feed my family of umpty-odd thousand. Corn! You need to grow more corn! Don’t waste your time on that other crap!”
    Farmer Everman stood for a moment in stunned silence, considering the implications of a horde of locusts at his door.
    “Gone?” he stammered at last. “All my crops are gone?”
    “And a pathetic excuse for dinner they were!” scolded the locust impatiently. “But I’m a patient and generous insect. I’m giving you one more chance to improve, but if you can’t do any better by next year, I’m hauling your sorry butt into court!”
    “And who do you think you are?” huffed the farmer, recovering sufficiently from his recent and sudden loss to defend his dignity. “Insects can’t sue!”
    The locust smiled indulgently. “Shows what you know,” he said smugly. “So, you haven’t heard of the Special Cooperative Agreement Re Feeding Frenzies. SCARFF for short. It’s an international treaty. Gives locusts the right to sue farmers.”
    “For what?” sneered Farmer Everman.
    “For anything,” retorted the locust. “In this case, for instance, you have deprived us of the opportunity for a feeding frenzy.”
    “What are you talking about? Just look at my beautiful farm. Well, it used to be beautiful ... If that wasn’t a feeding frenzy, I don’t know what a feeding frenzy is.”
    “A mere snack,” scoffed the locust. “Don’t worry. We’ll decide the definitions, thank you very much.”
    “Oh, yeah?” snapped the farmer. “How about the court? Uh, what court are you talking about, anyway?”
    “The Court of Local Justice,” buzzed the locust.
    “Well, I’ve never heard of that one, but if it’s local, I think I can be pretty confident that I’d get a fair shake.”
    The locust looked puzzled for a moment. Then he laughed. “Oh, I see,” he said. “You think ‘local’ means from around here. No, no, no. It’s an adjective meaning ‘of, or pertaining to, locusts.’ You see? You haven’t got a prayer.”
    “I can see that what I need is more efficient insecticides,” said Farmer Everman with an evil grin.
    “Nope,” said the locust curtly. “Forbidden by SCARFF. Any obstacle between the feeder and the feedee is strictly prohibited.”
    “Heck,” said Farmer Everman. “I just won’t grow anything anymore. It’s a lot of hard work for a pitiful return, anyway.”
    “Wrong again,” said the locust. “SCARFF allows us to drag you into court and make you feed us. You don’t have any rights left at all.”
    “Then I’ll see you in hell!” screamed the farmer.
    “Quite possibly,” agreed the locust. “The signatories of SCARFF include parties from both afterlife sectors. So, whichever way you go, you can expect a call from our legal team. We have ironclad guarantees. You didn’t think we’d leave a way out, did you?”