Once there was an Indian who went out onto the ocean on a pleasant day with plenty of food and water. He was paddling along when he noticed someone in the water. He paddled over and pulled an Italian guy out of the water. The Italian was grateful and after eating paddled for awhile. They looked alike and became friends. The Indian did most of the paddling.
Wasn't long before they spotted a Spanish guy in the water. The Spanish guy and the Italian liked each other and became friends. The Indian did most of the paddling. It wasn't long before they picked up a German, French, Dutch and Polish guy. Then they picked up an English guy who had a black guy tied up. There was still plenty of food and water. The Indian took sick and couldn't or wouldn't paddle.
The English guy made the black guy do most of the paddling. He did most of the work but was given the least amount of food. There were little squabbles over territory and food but once they were resolved things settled down.
Then they picked up a woman. That was it. Big fights broke out. A dominant leader emerged. He got her most of the space and food. The black paddled. The Indian glared. It wasn't perfect but it worked. They managed to move along and feed themselves.
They all had a meeting one day and did some mighty hi talking. The black and the Indian were not invited. The black was paddling. The Indian had developed an attitude and was confined for his own good.
The talk was about the "nobility" of what they were doing, helping their fellow men, human dignity, etc. It was suggested they erect some sort of monument to themselves. It was proposed that a statue be erected on the front of the boat and maybe a light at night. A beacon of light so to speak on a dark night. Musta' have been some good smoke.
They decided to write something on it. The guy who made it was called an artist. On the bottom they had him write; Give us your tired, sick and poor. Your huddled and teeming masses. As the last "s" was finished dark and ominous clouds appeared on the horizon along with some thunder and lighting It was not a good sign. The wind picked up and blew like crazy.
The ocean got ruff. The black paddled, the Indian glared. People threw up and babies cried. The light on the front worked like magic. People in the water flocked to the light from far off. The boat was becoming crowded. Space and resources were scarce. Political factions formed. The isolationist argued for their own good they had to limit the number of people allowed on the boat.
The do-gooders argued that they had all been out there once and needed to be rescued therefore there was a moral obligation. The do good faction won out, assuming a holier than thou attitude and looked down on the isolationist, calling them bigots and accusing them of discrimination.
The black paddled the boat. The Indian chanted mantras, while the do-gooders pulled people out of the water. A strange thing happened. There were more and more people. After awhile it became apparent that there wasn't room for everybody. The isolationist smiled smugly.
Now there were so many people in the water they were not waiting to be pulled out. They were climbing onto the boat and stealing food. The black refused to paddle and started doing drugs. Nobody wanted to paddle for everyone else. The Indian chanted louder and faster. Viscous fights broke out and the boat capsized and sank.
All were lost except the Indian who floated away on a paddle towards what appeared to be a lone Indian in a canoe on the horizon.
No comments:
Post a Comment