The Tale of the Prince and the Shrew
Once upon a time, there was a man, and he was very rich. This man was the prince of a great city. Maybe, the greatest city in the world. The man was well known and loved by many, disliked by some, and hated by others. But, generally, he was looked upon as someone who might one day, be king. Now and again, when things got bad, as they inevitably do, the people would say to the prince“Would you like to be king now? Maybe you can fix things.” The man would nod in agreement, that things were indeed bad, but not bad enough to want to be king. Then he would laugh and say “Hey, I don’t want to take a pay cut.” And the people would laugh, too. Because they understood. Even so, they kept him in mind.
One day, things got very bad, causing the prince to look around and wonder if someone would step up and do something. But no one did. Some recognized just how bad it was. Others said, “I’m doing OK, so things must be all right.” Still others just turned on the TV or ran to their computers, hoping that things might get better on their own. But they didn’t. So, the man finally said "OK, I’ll do it. I’ll run. This country needs a king who knows what’s going on. Not some political hack who will sell the people down the river like so many logs in a lumber camp."
That was when the “The Powers That Be” got involved. "It's OK to run, as long as you get permission. They said. “But, there’ll be no running without it.”
“Who are you to tell me that I need permission?” Said the prince of the city. “I’ll do what I think is best for the people. I don’t need their money or yours, so you can shove your permission where the sun doesn’t shine!” This made “The Powers That Be” very angry. “No one runs without us. No one. You got it!” They responded. But the prince of the city was a rebel. He was James Dean with a comb-over. He was Muhammad Ali with a hefty checkbook and orange hair.
So he ran, and the people became very excited, but for very different reasons. One group, “The Powers That Be,” knew that he was vulnerable to the Shrewish nightmare they’d chosen to run on their behalf. Sure, she was mistrusted by the people, but she had name recognition and war chest filled with gold. With a heavy makeover and complete control over the media by "The Powers That Be" she was a shoo-in. That was when they decided to take down the prince of the city. “If only he’d played ball, he could’ve been king.” They said. "He just needed to ask first and pay the necessary respect….if you get our meaning.” And then they laughed long and loud, certain that they had things under control.
So, “The Powers That Be” set out to destroy the prince, taking away the people’s best and probably last chance at freedom and prosperity. “These rubes will fall right in line when we get done with this guy, and then we’ll own everything." They shouted. "Of course, we care about the people, so we’ll throw a bone or two their way. Maybe a crumb will fall from the table. Oh, and what a feast it will be.” Then they laughed maniacally, knowing full and well that they couldn't lose because no one really cared. You see, the people just wanted a bit of bread and a circus now and again as a distraction. With that, they would be compliant as their taxes ebbed away like blood flowing from an open wound.
With that, the game was over, and things returned to their natural state, the powerful ruled over the lambs as the lion rules the jungle—and the blood and meat flowed like wine, with wars and treasure enough for all—but even more for the few.
“Who needs to share when you’re a lion,” they laughed. “None at all” they responded, “None at all.
Mark Magula
One day, things got very bad, causing the prince to look around and wonder if someone would step up and do something. But no one did. Some recognized just how bad it was. Others said, “I’m doing OK, so things must be all right.” Still others just turned on the TV or ran to their computers, hoping that things might get better on their own. But they didn’t. So, the man finally said "OK, I’ll do it. I’ll run. This country needs a king who knows what’s going on. Not some political hack who will sell the people down the river like so many logs in a lumber camp."
That was when the “The Powers That Be” got involved. "It's OK to run, as long as you get permission. They said. “But, there’ll be no running without it.”
“Who are you to tell me that I need permission?” Said the prince of the city. “I’ll do what I think is best for the people. I don’t need their money or yours, so you can shove your permission where the sun doesn’t shine!” This made “The Powers That Be” very angry. “No one runs without us. No one. You got it!” They responded. But the prince of the city was a rebel. He was James Dean with a comb-over. He was Muhammad Ali with a hefty checkbook and orange hair.
So he ran, and the people became very excited, but for very different reasons. One group, “The Powers That Be,” knew that he was vulnerable to the Shrewish nightmare they’d chosen to run on their behalf. Sure, she was mistrusted by the people, but she had name recognition and war chest filled with gold. With a heavy makeover and complete control over the media by "The Powers That Be" she was a shoo-in. That was when they decided to take down the prince of the city. “If only he’d played ball, he could’ve been king.” They said. "He just needed to ask first and pay the necessary respect….if you get our meaning.” And then they laughed long and loud, certain that they had things under control.
So, “The Powers That Be” set out to destroy the prince, taking away the people’s best and probably last chance at freedom and prosperity. “These rubes will fall right in line when we get done with this guy, and then we’ll own everything." They shouted. "Of course, we care about the people, so we’ll throw a bone or two their way. Maybe a crumb will fall from the table. Oh, and what a feast it will be.” Then they laughed maniacally, knowing full and well that they couldn't lose because no one really cared. You see, the people just wanted a bit of bread and a circus now and again as a distraction. With that, they would be compliant as their taxes ebbed away like blood flowing from an open wound.
With that, the game was over, and things returned to their natural state, the powerful ruled over the lambs as the lion rules the jungle—and the blood and meat flowed like wine, with wars and treasure enough for all—but even more for the few.
“Who needs to share when you’re a lion,” they laughed. “None at all” they responded, “None at all.
Mark Magula