Tale of the UPS Manager

There once was a regional UPS hub manager in Denver.  Large shipments of pallets would drop at the hub first, from where they serviced the surrounding area.  These smaller distribution centers then delivered packages as necessary to the appropriate recipients.

One day, the aging Denver hub manager was getting ready to retire, so he started grooming his nephew for the position.  The training was demanding, especially over the summer cycle, and at times both parties gave serious thought to calling it quits.  They didn't call otherwise.

Part of the training included working at a distribution center.  He worked with his girlfriend and their friend, doing deliveries with them and along routes.  He thoroughly enjoyed this aspect inside and out.

In time the nephew did prove he was ready to move up to the hot seat of the management position.  His girlfriend remained in charge of the distribution center.  He would be able to continue seeing his girlfriend and other friends often when he helped make deliveries to the distribution centers, so everyone remained super happy.

His main priority was to make sure there were no missing or late deliveries, because that just makes people grumpy or even disrupts other businesses.  He did so well that many years later he was even able to expand the business with some of his own innovative initiatives that were leading edge.  It really took after that.

Rush

There once was a man from Boston who married in New York City a deer, sweet woman from Philadelphia. In 1849 they caught wind of the gold rush out west and made plans to travel, but were delayed by a series of setbacks. By the fortune of grace, they were able to set voyage the next year, in 1850.

It was a long, hard trip, and their caravan were in and out of many trading camps for supplies along the way.  By the time they had reached Tahoe in the spring, they were so exhausted they needed to stay and rest a while before continuing. They enjoyed the pristine lake and elevated forest that expanded for smiles.

After they had their fill, they packed up before the weather turned cold again, and finished their journey to California. They disbanded and all struck gold, becoming wealthy, and sharing that wealth with friends.

Tale of the Wild Run

There once was a tributary of a raging river.  The freshwaters streamed downhill from an unadulterated watershed, crashed over a waterfall, and then snaked further downward as a wild run before colliding headstrong into the raging river.

Children liked to escape the summer heat and play in the cool waters of the wild run, throwing rocks to find crawfish and salamanders underneath.  It was fun to splash around beneath the shade of the trees.

Teens liked to break away to kayak and canoe... and party away from the prying eyes of their reproachful parents.

Adults liked to take respite from their busi-ness to relax beside the waters.

Animals took refuge in all the niche habitats.

Well, one day some developers decided they wanted to make some money by chopping down trees and building more houses.  You know how that goes.

But the wild run was too wild.  The strong currents would reshape its course every season.  This was fine until now, since the wild run ran inside a preserve.  But the developers wanted to chop down trees and build more houses inside the preserve.  You know how that goes.

So the developers used the magic of lawyers and powerful friends who ran the government to allow them to chop down trees and build more houses inside the preserve.  But before they could chop down the trees and build more houses inside the preserve, they first had to dam that damn wild run.

So they did.

And that shut it up.

The wild run was no longer wild.

It was a lame run now.

But it shut it up too much.  The current slowed to a crawl.  Debris started collecting everywhere.  Scum was foaming and forming.  The children didn't want to stick their hands in the water to throw rocks and look for crawfish and salamanders.  The teens couldn't float down the run.  The adults didn't like the look or smell.  Many of the animals found their habitats stressed.

So they petitioned to undam the damnned dam.  They lost time after time, because they did not have the magic of lawyers or powerful friends who ran the government.

The beavers saw how unfair this was.  The humans were always mucking everything up, putting dams where they shouldn't be, building them incorrectly.  So they got busy tearing that damn dam apart.  The human developers, when they got wind of it, tried shooting the beavers, but they fought back, biting the human developers and chasing them away!

When the damn dam finally broke, it unleashed a righteous torrent that swept up over the banks, flooding the banks and the nearby houses that were developed on the preserve where there used to be trees.  The wild run wasn't too sad about it, because, well, they shouldn't have done that.  They should have known better.  Everyone knows you shouldn't use the magic of lawyers and powerful friends who run the government to chop down trees inside a preserve to build more houses to make more money.  Everyone knows that.

Of course debris still flowed through the river.  You cannot prevent that.  It is impossible to prevent that, and insane to imagine that you might.  But if you allow the river to run wild, the debris will not sit and collect.

After the damn dam broke, there was still a lot of silt clogging the run that prevented it from flowing fully.  But in time the wild run would return to its natural, wild state for the enjoyment of all.

Tale of the Runaway Purebred

There once was a woman who owned a champion purebred.  However, he did not groom himself the way the Master wanted and did not perform the way the Master wanted. It didn’t matter how much he worked to appease the Master or how hard he tried to make the Master happy. It was never, ever good enough. The Master was never satisfied and always wanted more.

The owner abused the purebred growing up. She yelled at it and threatened it and punished it constantly, often for unknown or trivial reasons. It was so common that the purebred cowered in fear of her and whimpered in her sight or peed on the floor out of fright.

The other animals did not want to play with the purebred, because he struggled to develop the self-confidence to socialize. And because he didn’t socialize properly, many of the other animals also attacked the purebred, only exasperating the problem.

There was no love in the home, only a small, bare kennel in a lavish home. He was never petted or given treats, and rarely let out of the house.  Everything from the Master was entirely conditional, and almost all negative reinforcement.

One day, at the dog age of 2 years, the purebred ran away and never returned.  The Master wasn’t concerned or worried for his health or safety.  She was furious.  He was her prized possession.  He had insulted her by running away.  And yet she never asked herself why.  Self reflection never occurred to her.  It never did.  Everything was always someone else’s fault.

She posted fliers everywhere and interrogated everyone. She was quite hostile, actually. She was a very hostile person toward people as well as animals.

The Master then learned that another family had taken the purebred in and refused to return him, because they had seen the effects of the abuse.  The Master sent all kinds of threats to that family and all of the neighbors in the community.

She acted that way because she thought she was supposed to always get her way, and expected to always get her way.  Being hostile and threatening was the only way she knew how to get her way, and she was even worse when she didn’t get her way.

It only confirmed in the minds of the entire community, who had been watching the entire charade and who also suffered her torment, that she was unfit to take care of animals.

Embarrassed and ashamed of what everyone in the community thought of her, she finally (finally!) realized that she was the one who needed to conform to community standards, not everyone else conform to hers. She finally (finally!) realized that she needed to be nice to others. She finally (finally!) realized that she needed to respect other’s boundaries.

She worked very hard to never, ever threaten anyone ever again. She worked doubly hard to never, ever harm anyone ever again. And she worked triply hard to be accepting, tolerant, honest, generous, and kind to everyone.

And she let go of ever expecting to get her way ever again. She realized sometimes she might and sometimes she might not, and that was just going to be good enough for her from now on.

Because if she didn’t change now, fully, the community was going to ask her to pack her bags and leave town, and never return again. This was her last warning. It was her last straw.  She had hurt far too many people for far too long. This was it.

They all lived much better and happier after that.

Tale of the Minecraft World Bidding War

There once was a man who built huge, intricate Minecraft worlds.

He would build the worlds full of Sims, raise a Sim up to a higher level and leave them in charge to run it.  Then he would sell the world to another for their amusement.  It was like a snow-globe full of digipets.

He couldn't do it alone, so he enlisted the help of many.  In order to get every detail perfect, many of them occupied the avatars inside the game, alongside the Sims, the simulated life beings, that were created for the world.  The Sims were legitimate life in every sense of the word, though many of the workers, who came from above, looked down upon them and took advantage of them.

The designer of the world wanted to raise one of the simulated beings up to a higher level, to the place the workers came from.  It was like turning a 2D stick figure into a 3D being, no easy task.  But with a lot of trial and error and pain and the help of many, they got there.

Except for one problem.  The 3D being wasn't what the designer wanted.  So the designer and all of the workers used a variety of deception and manipulation and psychological warfare and abuse over many years, increasing the pressure and heat, to try to change the autonomous, self-determining being to submit to their desires, obey their command, and do as they please like a well-trained pet.  All so that they could then sell the Minecraft world for more money to the highest bidder.

The 3D being was actually designed to withstand a great amount of torture.  That didn't mean it didn't hurt just as much or damage it just as much.  As time went on, the being became less and less functional, at least temporarily.  But that didn't stop the designer and the workers from trying to squeeze the top dollar out of the 3D being and the Minecraft world to the highest bidder.

In fact, the more they squeezed, the less functional the 3D being became.  The less functional it became, the more they increased the pressure and pain.  This went on a long, long time.  Neither would relent.  The 3D being was quite determined to withstand the pain, and the designer and workers were quite determined to break its will.  All so that they could squeeze the top dollar out of the 3D being and the Minecraft world to the highest bidder.

Eventually, the designer and workers resorted to reprogramming the 3D being against its will, literally stealing its self-determination and autonomy, stripping free will from it.  All so that they could squeeze the top dollar out of the 3D being and the Minecraft world to the highest bidder.

Desperate, the 3D being continued to fight back against the oppressors, crying out to anyone out there who might be able to help save it.

Tale of the Farm Slaves

There once was a man who inherited a large sharecrop farm in the Deep South.  It was when slavery was still prevalent and accepted by many. However, he was an abolitionist and abhorred the situation on the farm.  And yet, there wasn’t much he could do about it at the time except treat his workers fairly and humanely, and feed them well.

Together, they converted the sharecrop into a worker's cooperative and grew it into an expansive enterprise. Many years later, at a ripe old age, the man and his wife retired to a vineyard. Before doing so, they were able to set the slaves free through years of political action, and left the cooperative in their sole possession.

---

From wikipedia:  Sharecropping is when a landowner allows a tenant to use the land in return for a share of the crops produced on the land...

The practice was harmful to tenants with many cases of high interest rates, unpredictable harvests, and unscrupulous landlords and merchants often keeping tenant farm families severely indebted. The debt was often compounded year on year leaving the cropper vulnerable to intimidation and shortchanging.[12] Nevertheless, it appeared to be inevitable, with no serious alternative unless the croppers left agriculture...

Sharecropping became widespread in the South as a response to economic upheaval caused by the end of slavery during and after Reconstruction. Sharecropping was a way for poor farmers, both white and black, to earn a living from land owned by someone else. The landowner provided land, housing, tools and seed, and perhaps a mule, and a local merchant provided food and supplies on credit. At harvest time, the sharecropper received a share of the crop (from one-third to one-half, with the landowner taking the rest). The cropper used his share to pay off his debt to the merchant... 

In Reconstruction-era United States, sharecropping was one of few options for penniless freedmen to support themselves and their families... 

After the Civil War, plantation owners had to borrow money to farm, at around 15 percent interest. The indebtedness of cotton planters increased through the early 1940s, and the average plantation fell into bankruptcy about every 20 years. It is against this backdrop that the wealthiest owners maintained their concentrated ownership of the land... 

Though the arrangement protected sharecroppers from the negative effects of a bad crop, many sharecroppers (both black and white) remained quite poor. Arrangements typically left a third of the crop to the sharecropper.

---

From wikipedia:  A worker cooperative is a cooperative that is owned and self-managed by its workers. This control may mean a firm where every worker-owner participates in decision-making in a democratic fashion, or it may refer to one in which management is elected by every worker-owner who each have one vote... 

According to an analysis of all businesses in Uruguay between 1997 - 2009, worker cooperatives have a 29% smaller chance of closure after controlling for variables such as industry. 

... worker cooperatives being more likely than capitalist firms to cut wages instead of laying off employees during periods of economic difficulty... 

In the Mondragon Corporation, the world's largest worker cooperative, the pay ratio between the lowest and the highest earner was 1:9 in 2018. The ratio is decided by a democratic vote by the worker-members.[15] By comparison, the ratio between CEO pay to average earner in top 350 US companies was 1:321 in 2018. 

... worker cooperatives are more productive than conventional businesses... 

... worker cooperatives are the only form of enterprise that fosters social trust between employees..

---

 

Lord, I've really been real stressed, down and out, losing ground
Although I am black and proud, problems got me pessimistic
Brothers and sisters keep messin' up, why does it have to be so damn tuff?
I don't know where I can go to let these ghosts out of my skull
My grandma past my brother's gone, I never at once felt so alone
I know you're supposed to be my steering wheel, not just my spare tire
(Home!) But Lord, I ask you
(Home!) to be my guiding force and truth
(Home!) For some strange reason it had to be
(Home!) he guided me to Tennessee

Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan
Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan

Lord it's obvious we got a relationship
Talkin' to each other every night and day
Although you're superior over me
We talk to each other in a friendship way
Then outta nowhere you tell me to break
Outta the country and into more country
Past Dyesburg and Ripley
Where the ghost of childhood haunts me
Walk the roads my forefathers walked
Climb the trees my forefathers hung from
Ask those trees for all their wisdom
They tell me my ears are so young (Home)
Go back, from whence you came (Home)
My family tree, my family name (Home)
For some strange reason it had to be (Home)
He guided me to Tennessee (Home)

Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan
Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan

Now I see the importance of history
Why my people be in the mess that they be
Many journeys to freedom made in vain
By brothers on the corner playin' ghetto games
I ask you, Lord why you enlightened me
Without the enlightenment of all my folks
He said, cuz I set myself on a quest for truth
And he was there to quench my thirst
But I am still thirsty
The Lord allowed me to drink some more
He said what I am searching for are
The answers to all which are in front of me
The ultimate truth started to get blurry
For some strange reason it had to be
It was all a dream about Tennessee
Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan

Take me to another place, take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me, let me understand your plan
Oh, won't you let me, won't you help me
won't you help me understand your plan
Take me home, take me home, home, take me to another place
Take me home, take me home, home, take me to another plac

Story of the Harvesters

"Sort them into five groups for me," he commanded, calmly but firmly.  He had come a long way from the boy they once knew.

"In the first group I want those who do the best with what they have, even if it's not much or under dire circumstances; and those who invest their time and energy wisely in those in need and in those who who likewise invest wisely; and those who are generous, kind, selfless, open-minded, freeing, forthright, honest, fair, inclusive, tolerant, positive, and bold and courageous in both thought and deed".

"In the last group I want those who make the worst with what they have, even if it's much or under easy circumstances; and those who invest their time and energy in themselves or people closest to themselves or people just like themselves; and those who are greedy, unkind, selfish, close-minded, controlling, manipulative, deceitful, unfair, exclusive, negative, and spiritless and fearful in both thought and deed".

"Sort the rest in the middle groups by gradients of those values, to include those who intend to invest wisely, but are unable to do so at this time.  Please sort them so that about a fifth are in each group".

"What about their sexual practices or drinking habits or drug use or religious affiliations or political views or mistakes they made," his helpers asked.

"Those matter not one bit whatsoever, except in the context of the guidelines I provided," he answered.

They did as he asked.

Then he looked deep and long into each and every soul, taking into account every experience and limitation and thought and behavior.  Some he adjusted toward this group and some toward that group, depending on things that no one else could see.

When he had finished sorting them, he told them, "Among the last group, each shall give up 20% and give to the first group, equally to each.  Among the second-to-last group, each shall give up 10% and give to the second group, equally to each".

After that, he again looked into the souls of everyone and, within each group, took a little from some and gave to another within the same group.

This, to him, was fair.  He closed and locked the doors to the rumored torture chamber beneath the castle for Good.  There was no weeping.  There was no gnashing of teeth.

The vision was set with guidance, but left in capable hands to carry out.  Slavery was abolished.  Anyone who wanted to leave was allowed to leave at any time.  Anyone who struggled to follow the Spirit of Goodness was helped unless such a time came that they had to be asked to leave.

And it's whispered that soon,
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter

Tale of the Estate Sale

There once was a family who owned a large estate.  They had a large mansion, horse stables, an orchard, a farm, and more.

One day, they decided to sell the entire estate, so they held an open house for their estate sale.  Many visitors from far and wide came to view the property.  Some of the slaves of the property wanted to inform the visitors about the mistreatment of the family and others in charge of the estate, but were too afraid to say so directly.

The word got out and some of the concerned visitors discretely reported their suspicions to higher authorities.  In the meantime, the unscrupulous family sold their estate, and, being greedy money grabbers, gutted it of everything valuable first.

Fortunately, when the higher authorities investigated everything, charges for this, too, were brought against them.  They were tried and convicted.  They paid restitution and served time behind bars as a deterrent to anyone else who would think of such a thing.

Story of Faith in Lifeguards

There once was a family who wanted their son to rely on the beach lifeguard.  He knew how to swim just fine, and usually stayed out of trouble, mostly.  Sometimes he played in waters he should've known were too rough for his ability, or in waves he should've known were too big for his ability.  Sometimes he should've avoided the undercurrent by watching the channels.  But he also enjoyed being swept away.  He knew not to fight it and always came up for air.  It was fun and no one got hurt.

But his family did not like that.  They wanted him to stay near the shore, in ankle deep waters, as a boy.  He did not obey.

When he grew, they wanted him to rely on the lifeguard, who was never on duty.  There was a stand, but no one inside.  They still wanted him to rely on the lifeguard anyway.

So the family had friends dunk his head under water and drag him underwater time after time, intentionally making him drown.  He was drowning, but he refused to call out to the lifeguard who was not there.  He was drowning, but they refused to help him because he did not call out to the lifeguard who was not there.

When he finally made it back to shore and coughed up saltwater, they stood there shaking their heads.

"You did this to yourself," they said, indignantly.  "If only you had called out to the lifeguard like we wanted you to".

The boy crawled some ways before he could stand up again.  He never spoke to those family members again.

Alien Love

There once was a human trapped in a cartoon.  It was dry and lacked color, but it was all he knew.  He made the best of the page he was given, and drew some imaginative panels for his friends and himself.

One day, the human looked above and saw the most amazing things that he could hardly describe to his friends inside the comic.  And he laid eyes upon the most amazing creature, who instantly captured his heart.  He beckoned her to come see his world.

But lo! the evil cartoonist returned and did not like what he saw.  He drew minions to chase the human and his alien lover.  The evil cartoonist drew on top of the panels the human had drawn, scribbling and crumbling paper, creating a nightmare for those trapped inside, from which they struggled to wake up.  They begged and pleaded but were not granted mercy by the evil cartoonist.

However, the human and his alien lover were able to escape, and live happily ever after.

Pets

"Why is your pet sad, angry, or depressed so much of the time"?

"It's not because I'm too strict.  It's not because I keep it penned up.  It's not because I don't give it enough enrichment or walks or treats.  It's not because I take away it's toys.  It's not because I mistreat it.  It's not because I tease it.  It's not because I use fear and shame to discipline it."

"Oh.  Ok.  Do you love him"?

"When it does exactly what I want.  I try to train it, but it's very strong-willed and independent, and I am very demanding and exacting.  I will keep punishing it until it will obey me.  I will break its will if I have to, and nearly have many times.  I never give up and neither does it".

"I see.  How do you train him?"

"The usual ways of being incredibly harsh and withholding affection and treats until it obeys never worked on this pet.  So now this fucker has resorted me to trying ever more subtle ways to trick it, like using an assortment of friends it would never suspect are actually trainers.  But it always sees through my tricks and gets even more upset that I tried to fool it. So I continually berate it for being a disappointment in life".

"Does he love you?"

"I don't think so".

"Huh, you don't say.  Does he try to run away"?

"All the time.  But I keep it locked up and chained with a choke collar".

"Is he affectionate toward you"?

"No, it cowers in fear or roars at me.  I yell it at it then, but it doesn't seem to help".

"Is he affectionate toward others"?

"Incredibly affectionate and playful and protective with anyone who doesn't threaten it".

"Interesting.  Have you ever had any pets before"?

"No, this is my first one, and it's unbelievably frustrating that it won't do what I want, and that the harder I try to make it, the more it resists me, and at this point I have completely ruined my relationship with it.  I have stellar relationships with everyone else".

"Have you ever figured out why"?

"No, I'm completely in the dark".

Tale of Beach Day

There once was a boy named Mario who went to the beach.  He wanted to catch some rays and play in the sand and waves.

Upon arriving, the sun was scorching.  It was a long, long way to the beach, and the heat was hot.

The sun was casting a mirage upon the everything he saw, and it was making him hangry.

So he stopped at a restaurant for a bite of dessert--nothing wrong with that at all as long as it's part of whole, complete diet, and you don't ever let any hard-nosed ascetic tell you otherwise.

Along the boardwalk there was a vendor selling popcorn, so he grabbed a bag of that, too.  Because everyone loves popcorn, even if some people try to deny it.  Just don't let it get caught in your teeth, that's all.  You don't want cavities.

But when he stepped foot on that sand--holy hell!  It burned like hot coals!

(PSA: Oprah is my hero and should be POTUS)

It hurt worse than walking on LEGOS, which is the second-worst ever.  Ask any parent.

When he finally got to the beach, he put a towel down to protect himself while he laid down to get some of that sweet vitamin D.  But wouldn't you know, in short time that sun baked him crisp like a hot potato.

He spent the rest of the afternoon cooling off in the refreshing ocean and playing in the waves, avoiding the angry sun.

After that, he decided to spend his next vacation with the songbird who sings in rings of smoke through the trees, from where his spirit is crying for leaving.

Tale of the Two Gangs

There once was a boy who went to a tough school. The student population was run by two rival gangs, and the teachers and administrators were too old to care, too out of touch to relate to the youth, and too tired to police them much, or fairly.

The gangs kept pressuring the boy to join them. There was the Westside Skinheads, a white gang that was well-organized like a lubed machine, a stickler for rules, and a bit fascist. They were very bright in the STEM subjects. They bribed the administration for good grades and even got jobs in the school after graduation to look after their own. They carried batons for weapons. 

The other gang was the Eastside Anarchists. As you can imagine, they were loosely organized in many individual cells that communicated and worked together more like a lateral network; like a brain's neurons. They excelled in the social sciences, and some liked to enhance their perceptions with drugs.

Both gangs thought they were morally superior than the other and waged disinformation and propaganda against one another. One of the fronts in their ideological war was recruitment, so both wanted to know which gang the boy would join.

“Neither,” he said.

That was not possible, they said. You must choose one. You must decide.

“We are the soldiers of God,” declared the Skinheads.

“There is no god,” corrected the Anarchists.

“I will join neither of you,” said the boy.  "There must be a middle way."

Then Westside Skinheads went on trying to recruit him in their terrible, twisted ways, while the Eastside Anarchists mostly went about their own business of trying to change everything in all the wrong ways.

The boy could finally see them both for who they were and what they were doing.  From then on he did his best to ignore them both and go about his life.  The Westside Skinheads were a cruel bunch filled with hate and the Eastside Anarchists were well-intentioned but misguided.

He was one of the few children who graduated the school without joining either of those horrible gangs.

Tale of the Family Game Night

There once was a boy who was violently shaken awake one day by his older siblings and told to play a game.  He did not want to play a game, but was told he must.

The boy begrudgingly accepted the offer.  He could not for the life of him understand the rules, and most of the older siblings, instead of helping him, took advantage of his ignorance.  They teased him mercilessly and ran up the score on him.

He did not want to play this game, but was told he must.

When he started to figure out the game, he realized many of the game mechanics were flawed and unfair; elements of the narrative were stale and uninspiring; many of the challenges were too difficult; and the goals and victory conditions were unappealing to even motivate.  

He did not want to play this game, but was told he must.

Further, for his game piece he was told he could only choose either the metal cat or the metal dog.

The cat was strict, harsh, controlling, and manipulative.  But the dog was poor and hated by many, and derided as evil even though it was not.  He didn't really like the pros and cons that came with either game piece, and wished he could mix-and-match or choose another piece entirely, but his siblings said no.  So he did not really like either option.

He did not want to play this game, but was told he must.

The boy chose a game piece.  They told him he was not supposed to pick that one.

He did not want to play this game, but was told he must.

Then the boy figured out that the older siblings were changing the rules of the game on the fly.  He figured that changing the rules was part of the game.  So the boy decided to do the same and change the game so that it was interesting, inspiring, fun, and fair. He changed the rules so that at least one of the options was appealing and fair.

The siblings did not like the way he changed the game, only the way they changed the game.  They used their age and strength to intimidate him.  

He did not want to play this game, but was told he must.

He had enough.  He was startled awake, told to play a game he did not want to play, was teased, bullied, and taken advantage of on a game he found greatly unappealing, and then told he could not benefit from the same rules his siblings did, and did not actually have free choice in the game.

He stopped playing.  He had had enough.

The siblings told him he could not stop playing.

He stopped playing anyway.

He did not like his family.  They were all a bunch of jerks.  And they were definitely no fun to play with.  So he got up and walked back to his room and locked his door behind him, while they yelled and teased him all the way like the jerks they were.  But that was all they could do, and it only cemented in his mind that he should not want to play games with such jerks.  

He could not make them play nicely or fairly, but they also could not make him play.

A or B

“You have to choose A or B”.

“Why do I have to choose”?

“You just have to.”

“But I don’t like A or B. I like some things about both, but neither entirely”.

“You have to choose A or B”.

“What about C through Z”?

“You have to choose A or B”.

“What about 1 to to 100”?

“You have to choose A or B”.

“This is dumb. Fine, I choose B”.

“Look here, you little shit. When I said you have to choose A or B I meant choose A”.

“Well now that you put it that way, I will never choose A”.

Tale of the Two Parks

There once was a small town with two parks at opposites ends of the main street.

On the wealthy side of town was the largest park.  It was well-manicured with an arboretum, botanical garden, grounds for croquet and bocce ball, picnic areas, and so forth.

There were many rules and signs about the rules and enforcers of the rules.  No dogs allowed.  No walking on the grass.  No smoking.  No drinking.  No singing.  No music.  No dancing.  No public displays of affection.  No... "outsiders".  Everyone knew what that meant.

There were no playgrounds in that expansive park.  There were no slides or swings or monkey bars or merry-go-rounds or other fun things for children to laugh and play with.  There was no explicit rule, but it was suspected that laughing and playing were also forbidden.

On the poor side of town was the small park.  It was not very well maintained at all, because they did not have the budget for it.  The locals did their best to take care of it themselves, though.

The trash cans were just unseemly rims with chains.  The grass was bare in spots and covered in weeds.  There was litter.

But there was grilling and drinking and laughing and singing and music playing and dancing.  Children played at the small but adequate playground with slides and swings and monkey bars and merry-go-rounds.

Though wealthy folks almost never ventured into that park, everyone was welcome without suspicion.

Tale of the Sad Panda

There once was a zoo with many, many animals:

The lions owned the place (but the females did all the work).

The tigers plotted to take over.

The cheetahs were difficult to spot.

The panthers ruled the night.

The hyenas were fucking annoying. Like, really fucking annoying.

The arctic foxes attracted a lot of attention.

The giraffes had been there a long time and liked to help the younger animals.

The zebras saw things in duality.

The honey badger don't give a shit.

The bears were lazy and happy.

The tapirs were funny looking.  Have you ever?

The sea lions and otters just wanted to play.

The monkeys were wild and crazy.

The great apes were solemn and reflective.

The koalas just tried to hang on.

The platypuses were sometimes animal-class fluid, and were given a safe space.

The elephants minded their own, and their young.

The rhinoceroses spat mad rhymes, because they were always upset and drooling.

The crocodiles patiently waited for their opportunities, and were quite shallow.

The anacondas don't want none unless it could feed them a while.

The chameleons were open-minded, able to see things from multiple perspectives.

The hippos were aggressive and hungry, hungry.

The eagles and other birds looked at the cage and dreamed of soaring high again.

The owls ruled the night skies, but they never let you know it.

... and so forth.

Most of the animals were given large enclosures and plenty of enrichment activities:  balls and swings and ropes, as appropriate for their species, so that they could be stimulated.  More importantly, for the zoo's sake, so that the animals could entertain the paying guests who liked to see the animals do something and not just sit there, boring them.  They paid to be entertained by these zoo animals, after all.

One day, the zoo was happy to announce the arrival of, you guessed it, a baby panda.  It was all the rage.  The cutest, ittiest, bittiest baby panda, who made a big splash in the national syndicate newspapers, and even internationally.  He was that damn cute.  He drew huge crowds, which meant lots of ticket sales that could be used as seed money in future projects.  The zookeepers licked their chops.  Local funrazers rushed to do what they could.

But wouldn't you know it, attention eventually waned on the panda.  Eventually the newspapers rarely printed an article and the crowds simmered to their usually trickle.  The zookeepers were not pleased, because they had come to expect the baby panda to continue to earn them lots of revenue for future projects, and fat wallet promotions along with that.  They were greedy and cared more about their fat wallets than the safety, health, welfare, or happiness of the animals they cared for.

To spur the return of the crowds, the zookeepers decided to do something about the little panda, who by now had become a teen.  He was interested in female pandas, but the zookeepers did not want the crowds to see that;  panda sex would be repulsive to many and would not open the floodgates of crowds like they had hoped for.  So they beat that panda every time he looked at a female panda, thinking that that would cause the panda to lose interest.

When the panda did not lose interest, they took away his enrichment toys and beat him some more.

When the panda did not lose interest, they threatened him with castration and beat him some more.

When the panda still did not lose interest, they put him in isolation and beat him some more.

When they finally put the teenage panda back in the general population enclosure, he was a sad panda from all the beatings and from losing all the things that made him happy for so long.  And he was fat and lazy from not having positive stimulation for so long.  Now the zookeepers were really concerned, so they said Fine!  And they threw a bunch of balls and ropes and other toys at the panda, hoping it would shut him up and make him happy so the crowds would not see a sad panda.

Of course that did not work.  After so much abuse for so long of his life, the panda could not be made to be happy at the snap of a finger, which is how the zookeepers thought.  The panda was just going to be sad a good, long while, and there wasn't a damn thing those cruel zookeepers could do about it.  That's what happens when you abuse animals.

When the crowds starting seeing the panda in this sad, fat, lazy condition, some yelled at it.  Others threw trash at it.  Still others felt bad and demanded to know what had happened.

Eventually the truth was found out.  The panda was relocated to a sanctuary that specialized in rehabilitation.  The zookeepers were investigated for mistreatment of animals.  They lost their jobs, were fined, and spent a little time behind bars, too.  Just like zoo animals.

And all along Horton was listening in to make sure they were all safe, sound, whole, and well.

Tale of the Human Cleric Boy and Elf Druid Girl

There once was as a boy who fell in love at first sight with an angel, but their feuding families did not approve.

The boy came from a strict, human cleric family who worshiped a grumpy, judgmental god.  They lived upon a hill that once was lush, but was now barren because they wanted to build a city.  The city became overpopulated and dirty because they wanted to multiply until they ran out of farmland.  There were a lot of rules to keep that city orderly, and they were looking for places to continue expansion.

The girl came from a playful, elven druid family who worshiped the loving goddess and nature.  They lived in the forested valley below in treehouses connected by wooden bridges and swings.  They sang and danced a lot, too.  Just outside the forest lived the hobbits, with whom they got along and traded often.

These two families did not get along.  Could you imagine such an abomination as a half-elf, they thought?  But those things did not matter to the young boy and girl.

The boy's family insisted that he grow up to be a paladin and clear out the forest below for their city expansion.  But the boy thought that was heartless and evil and violated the Paladinian Code.  So he wanted nothing to do with that plan, and instead longed to become a sorcerer and live with the elves in their forest.  These things were taboo in his family.  This only exasperated the situation

He wanted to help the the humans and elves get along and learn from one another, to bridge the two civilizations.  He was really into bridges those days.

He dreamed of helping the elven city modernize and become more productive, and helping the human city become sustainable and happy.  And both cities would benefit from the exchange of knowledge, wisdom, and trade.

The families were desperate to break them up and keep them apart.  They were more concerned about the status quo and fighting one another than the happiness of their children.

So the girl decided the only way to save their love is to trick the families into thinking she is dead.  But lo!  The boy, too, is fooled, and in heartbroken despair drank a poison to take his own life.

His heart started beating slower and slower as the poison began to take hold.  The boy did not realize his death would be so long and painful.

The young girl woke in shock and anguish.  This is not what she wanted.  This is not what anyone wanted.

She decides to rent her house and search for material components for all her spells.  She returns home and creates a healing love potion, which she gives to him, nursing him back to health.  The two families decide to let go of their stupid ideologies for the sake of the happiness of the children.

They lived happily ever after.

Tale of the Country Club

There once was an exclusive country club that only allowed whites.  It was rumored to be extravagant, but there was no eye witness to go on record ever stepping foot inside the gates.

There were many salesmen (almost all men) who held weekly sales pitches to crowds interested in the limited lifetime offers. In exchange, the audience members pledged to pay membership dues and recruit new members.  No one called it a multi-level marketing (MLM) scheme.

Some spokespersons passed out small brochures to potential customers near places of business.  Others advertised by shouting at street corners like newsboys.  Many slandered competing businesses, even those that have been witnessed firsthand and were leaving them behind in the dust. Other spokespersons and even club members derided customers of those other successful businesses, mostly because they didn’t have the same sort of club rules.

But this exclusive country club for whites only that no one could actually testify to was persistent.

Once you pledged your membership, the club slowly asked for more and more of your time and individuality.  In insidious doses that would go unnoticed, the club officers would correct members on right and wrong morality according to the club rules, which became more and more intricate as one became more and more indoctrinated.

This exclusive country club for whites only that no one could actually testify to was insatiable.

If a member was in any way the least bit not obedient to the club rules or club officer, a number of different psychological measures would be used to help correct the member and bring them back in line. Fear, intimidation, shame, and deception were the most common and effective.  But once the word got out that they used these tactics, people started seeing the MLM for what it was.  The house of cards, the pyramid scheme, started to crumble under its own weight without the support of gullible sheep anymore.

This exclusive country club for whites only that no one could actually testify to was inhumane.

On Trust

Trust me, said the grandfather who pushed him unexpectedly into the deep end of the cold pool in order to learn how to swim, laughing as he struggled not to drown.

Trust me, said the grandfather, who caught him smoking and forced him to chain-smoke the rest of the pack to teach him a lesson.

Trust me, said the mother whose love he never earned.

Trust me, said the uncle who doesn’t trust in return.

Trust me, said the aunt who made fun of him and wanted to sell him out.

Trust me, said the cousin who pranks him ruthlessly in front of the whole school.

Trust me, said the brother who looks at the birthday wishlist and decides on something else he prefers, knowing his brother does not (nor the store or the sales clerk for that matter).

Trust me, said the teachers who turned a blind eye to bullying or even joined in.

Trust me, said the bosses who persecuted him.

Trust me, said the coworkers who sucker punched him.

Trust me, said friends who turned on him and teased him subtly.

Trust me, they said, after betraying him time and again.

“Trust me, I would love to trust you,” he said. “But time after time you have given me every reason not to”.

“You won’t be hurt by all of this, now will you,” they probed, more worried about his reaction than how he was actually feeling.

“Of course I’m hurt, and you would be too. This pain does not dissipate overnight, especially when you do this over and over and over again”.

“Well surely you will be discreet about this, won’t you," they implored, worried about how they would appear in front of the PTA.

“I will be as discreet about this as you have been about every nook and cranny of my private life,” he replied. “I offer a fair exchange in treatment.  Better than fair, in fact.  I have taken a lot and will only expose a fraction”.

“I want to trust you, and will, when you give me the time and the reason to,” he promised.