In this highly ignorant political season, where lying is the only real speech, perhaps a modern political fairy tale will amuse and, possibly, make clearer what we truly face.
Once upon a time, in a land known as Capricious, a young woman, named Charity, lived with her small son and daughter. Her husband, alas, had died in one of the kingdom’s many wars to protect it’s “National Interests”. Sadly, too, the King and his advisers, in their infinite wisdom, had been forced to curtail the monies from the treasury for the families of the victims of these “constable actions” since the other royalty and their fiefs had greater need of these fiscal resources than did the common rabble.
Now, this lass was a hard working homemaker and mother. However, the great nation of Capricious was going through a period of descending magnitude, known throughout the kingdom as “Lowered Employment Expectations”. The King and all of the kingdom’s princes and princesses were discharging all of their workers in order that they, the wealthy, might greatly enhance their holdings and live in a manner surpassing all of the other province’s citizens. When these people of high station realized that their incomes and comfort were less than the level of earlier times due to the loss of actual souls to do their labor, these royal jennets re-employed these same laborers. Of course, the aristocracy could not reward these craftsmen at their former salaries, as that would erode the accumulation of the wealth the royals held so dear, so they simply offered much less, knowing that there would always be someone to accept whatever pittance was proffered.
It was into this political panorama that our heroine found herself cast upon her husband’s death. Since she aspired to be a dutiful citizen of Capricious, she had always listened to the King’s advisers and her religious leader’s demands that she stay at her cottage and raise her children in order that they not become a portion of the ruffians and bullies that were importing the illegal anodynes that all said were destroying her great principality. Because of this time of sacrifice and her subsequent lack of a commendable body of personal knowledge she found that she was not qualified for any of the worthy positions being offered which might support and feed her family. Nay, instead she discovered that only the most menial of situations could be hers and, while she must toil long hours to simply put a roof over their heads and food on their table and could no longer spend her days insuring the safety of her small charges, the King and all of his minions had lately also reduced all of the small succors that once had been available in that regard. She was told that this was because the great religious writings showed that the people of the earth were not responsible for the poor women and the hungry children and that the King averred that the treasury was open only to his sycophants and their fiefs in order to counteract the nefarious debts that he and his cohorts had accumulated. (Of course, she understood that these debts were not the fault of her or her children but tried to accept the wholesome ideas of the holy citizenry that she was expected to shoulder the burden of repayment since the portion of the realm’s population that most benefited from this liability could not also be expected to suffer in this time of recompense. After all, she was not able to send the vast quantities of money that was required to retain the throne and castle in the hands of the King and his toadies every four years.)
Charity, therefore, toiled long and hard at the disparate humble employment she could encounter in order to earn enough to buy the bread and lodging her family required. That her children were so often without her guidance and firm hand could only be her failing, she knew, since those with the high responsibility of pious and secular office had so often reminded her thus. The illness’ of her children could not be brought to the local medical shamans as there was never enough funds for such lavishness, so the young ones grew up slowly and sickly. The children’s studies were, of course, neglected due to the fatigued nature of the children and the lack of parental support at home. Again, our heroine knew this to be completely her imperfection. She could only envy the wealthy and powerful but, again, knew that familial wealth and inheritance played no part in the stations of the more fortunate. They had achieved their status only through tremendous work, they were only too overjoyed to remind her at any opportune moment.
Charity died penniless but happy in the knowledge that she had not let her leaders and the wealthy down by ever again asking for their help. Her children, alas, would not repeat the failures of their mother. They went about their miserable lives quietly, without bothering the more fortunate during their treasured time before the magical television box. The children, instead, found that the great countries to the south were the fount of enchanted potions that the rich and mighty of Capricious were greatly desirous of and would secretly travel great distances in their elegant carriages to purchase at the children’s village. This serendipitous discovery and the subsequent trade in these goods allowed the children to dress as the mighty did and to eat the food of the Gods.
The daughter, unfortunately, died of a disease of great consequence and the son was shot many times with arrows by the constable for supplying the needs of the rich. Afterwards, all was well in the land, once again.
The moral of this story? If you are blessed in having the basic necessities of life it is because God loves and provides for you and yours. If you do not, you are a slothful pariah who would only be a leach on the fine citizens of this Capricious country if they ever, again, let you try.
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