|
Disgruntled Pigs
Once upon a time, there were four little pigs. They lived in a land of plenty. In this land, a person with a part-time, minimum-wage job was better off by far than most of the other folks on the planet. The majority of the inhabitants in other lands kept themselves alive by subsistence farming; if they didn’t grow it, they didn’t have anything to eat. Millions stood in line, in the hot sun, hoping to get a drink of clean water (never mind cooking and bathing). In a neighboring country, a mother fed her children tortillas for breakfast. She didn’t have sufficient flour to make enough tortillas, so she bulked up the dough with a handful of dirt. The pigs, far from being grateful, were quick to find the downside: “Yeah, but those other people don’t have to pay rent or buy groceries. Since they never go anywhere, they don’t have to worry about buying new clothes and washing machines.” “And we have to buy cars and gasoline to get back and forth to work.” “We have to pay people to watch our kids.” “And we have to buy our kids great chunks of brightly colored plastic, otherwise they’ll feel cheated. We have many occasions throughout the year when we are obliged to spend money we don’t have, buying stuff we don’t need, for people who don’t appreciate it.” Poor little four little pigs. On the first Monday of each month, the four little pigs met at the Puerco Loco Tavern to discuss how unhappy they were. “Let’s be proactive,” declared one little pig. “Instead of continuing to be unhappy, let’s make some changes. Tell ya what: I’ll change jobs. Yeah, that ought to do it. Then I’ll be happier.” “And I,” declared the second little pig, “will change my political affiliation. That’s sure to make me happy. Hey, I might go all out and even pick a new team to root for.” The other pigs cheered and toasted the second pig’s courage and firm resolve. Not to be outdone, the third little pig swore to change cars. “I mean, hey, if a new car won’t make me happy, what will?” The fourth little pig said, “And I will change the way I think, the way I process the world.” The other pigs frowned. “We can’t do that,” said one. “What’s to think about?” asked another. “Things happen, usually rotten things, and we deal with them as best we can.” The third little pig drained his glass, flashed a big, toothy grin, and said, “Life’s a bitch and then you die!” They laughed themselves hoarse over that one. They agreed to meet again on the first Monday of the following month to compare notes. At the next meeting, the first little pig dourly reported that changing jobs had done nothing to alleviate his unhappiness. “The boss is still a jerk. My coworkers are still a bunch of back-stabbing morons. I’m still overworked and underpaid.” The second little pig didn’t have any success with changing his political and sports affiliations. “The other party is still a pack of insensitive goofballs who have the audacity to disagree with me. The other teams still wear the wrong colors. The referees still make bad calls against my guys, and my team still won’t make the playoffs.” The third little pig was the most bewildered of all. “Believe it if you can, but even a new car did nothing to change my sour disposition. Oh, it was great for a couple of days, but then it was the same old stuff all over again. Wish I’d got the red one with the self-defrosting mud flaps and the bulldozer attachment.” The fourth little pig…well, he didn’t see any point in showing up at all.
|
