Idea Crumbs

I first read this fable by Ambrose Bierce years ago in Mark Twain’s Library of Humor. Even as a child it impressed me, though my thoughts have changed about its meaning.

A man was plucking a living goose, when his victim addressed him thus:

“Suppose you were a goose; do you think you would relish this sort of thing?”

“Well, suppose I were,” answered the man; “do you think you would like to pluck me?”

“Indeed I would!” was the emphatic, natural, but injudicious reply.

“Just so,” concluded her tormentor; “that’s the way I feel about the matter.”

As a child I thought it was funny that the goose gave the man a reason to keep on plucking.

As an adult I see how this fable can apply to real life situations. The goose starts out by appealing to the man’s empathy, asking how he would feel if he were the victim. Instead of answering her question, the man pursues the other side of her hypothetical role reversal and asks if the goose would enjoy being the tormentor. The goose affirms strongly that she would.

With that reply the goose, unfortunately, puts herself on equal ground with the man. She isn’t any better than he. She just happens to be unable to execute her will. Knowing that she would do the same to him if roles were reversed, the man could proceed with a clearer conscience.

On the other hand, if she had replied that she had no desire to harm him, her original appeal to empathy might have had great effect. He might have seen the injustice of the situation and granted her pardon.

Some people will complain about the injustices dealt by others, but on closer examination they don’t really mind injustice as long as they get a turn at dealing it out.

Back in college (pre Internet days) I was rooming with 5 other guys and we were discussing the purchase of a TV. We did the math and found that, rather than rent a TV over the course of the school year, it would be cheaper to pool our money and buy one. It seemed so simple, but it wasn’t. I’m sure you can guess the question that invariably came next—Who gets to keep the TV in the end? We almost went with a rental because it seems most people would rather spend more money and give it away to total strangers than to see a friend end up “ahead” in the end. It boggled my mind, but this strong opinion seems nearly universal.

The solution to that problem was simple. At the end of the year we would sell the TV and split the money 6 ways. But, it wasn’t that simple. What if only 5 people are willing to put in money toward a 6-person venture? The 6th guy said he wouldn’t use it so he didn’t want to pay. Again, there was a strong emotion tied to the fact that he MIGHT use it, and end up freeloading off the other 5 guys. Again, our plans to purchase a TV were stalled.

The unexpected solution came in the form of a generous sister who visited one of my roommates. She saw we were in need of a TV and gave one to her brother as a gift. Problem solved. Or so it seemed.

You might wonder what happened to the 6th roommate who had said he didn’t want to pay because he wouldn’t be using the TV. He really WAS a freeloader. He and the remote were inseparable companions, and the rest of us were lucky to ever watch anything without his approval. Human selfishness has a way of hindering the best laid plans.

I thought this was an interesting quote from a video I recently watched:

“They didn’t come to look at the Mona Lisa. They came in order to have seen it. There is a crucial distinction…”

Assembling IKEA furniture is very similar to doing an easy crossword puzzle. It’s not really difficult but it takes longer than you thought think it should, and there is a sense of slightly embarrassing satisfaction when the puzzle is complete.

Lately I’ve been in the market for an airbrush. They are totally old school, but I’m thinking of getting one. It’s funny how nearly every used airbrush is described as being used just once or twice. Assuming the sellers are telling the truth, it seems the majority of airbrushes are purchased, used once, and then set aside to collect dust—very similar to nearly all exercise equipment and most guitars. If course if I get one, that will never happen. Hopefully.

Sixteen miles in the sultry, magnolia-fragrant breeze, with The Book Thief in my ears and smile on my face. A heavy little box turtle needed some help crossing the path, and a speedy garter snake insisted on doing it alone. Wild blackberries were worth the stop. I’ll bring something next time to carry them, and gloves. Drifting neon sparks tempted me to stop again in the shadows of dark leafy caverns, but I was enjoying the ride and the light was falling. I can hear my girls laughing upstairs. It’s good to be home.

This thought has been on my mind for a while. I know I am painting atheists with a broad brush, as I haven’t met all of them, but I have known a fair number. Those of my acquaintance have tended to be very proud of their lack of belief, and conversely, they considered anyone who didn’t share their lack of belief to be an idiot. It’s as though they declared themselves winners of a contest that they, for their lack of belief, should admit doesn’t matter. In trying to find an analogy, I imagine two men standing before a firing squad, arguing over who could beat the other in a foot race. A few minutes later they are dead and their pride is gone with them. If all flesh is grass, and soon to wither and die, what good does it do to boast? Perhaps pride is the security blanket of the unbelieving intellectual the way that religion is supposed to be the opiate of the masses.

It goes without saying that pride isn’t found only in atheists. I have often found it strange when intelligent people look down those are not as intelligent, or when those who are tall or physically strong make fun of those who are small and weak. So much of what we have is a gift, regardless of who or what we think the source is.