Imagine that you are sitting at a table that is beautifully decorated with ornate candles, plates trimmed in gold, fine crystal glasses filled with the finest wine. Servants with white gloves surround the table ready to serve the most exquisitely palatable pastries you have ever seen! You’ve worked hard for this ~ it’s your inheritance!
Something smells strange. In fact, you swear it smells like pig shit. You look around and it seems like you are all squirming in your seats. Everyone appears to be getting really uncomfortable, however, no one says a word.
The gloved servants serve the delectable’s one by one. They are beautiful and plump and warm, you can see the steam coming from them. They must have just come from the oven. You just can’t get over it. Something smells…you’re just not sure what. How could that horrible ungodly smell be permeating this beautiful room.
As the waiters bow and back from the room a short grace is given; thanking God for the very many blessings that you are allowed to have.
You look around again, in fact, you are all looking at each other. Again, no one says a word as you all cut into the tantalizing pastry and lift a piece to your mouth when you notice it’s contents are warm and brown and stink like pig shit. Aghhh, can’t be. You all shrug it off because it is so tormentingly pleasing to look at. The promise is in the packaging ~ it has to be palatable!
Again, everyone looks around. The smiles are uncomfortable this time, yet no one breathes a word. Like the admirable person that you are, you get about your business. It just feels like something is not quite right.
You all put a forkful into your mouth and let the flavor melt onto your tongue and you think to yourself…this tastes like pig shit! You all look around at each other.
Everyone’s mouth is slowly moving and savoring the sensation of the delightful pastry. Watching and waiting for someone to swallow. You all know it smells like pig shit and it tastes like pig shit but it’s packaged so brilliantly that it just can’t be. Then someone swallows and one-by-one you all swallow that warm mouth full of pig shit.
At this point, everyone knows that they are being served shit yet since this is your inheritance you‘re not willing stop. You all continue to clean your plates because that’s what good, tolerant Americans do. Not one person pushes themselves from the table. Plates are cleaned to the last tiny morsel. Everyone, leans back with a full belly. At least feeling full but knowing that something is painfully wrong and you sit……. and wait for another helping……your servants will be back….. the American Dream is yours ….
[Honestly, if you do not see how this little story relates to this blog's proposal, well, consider it the product of something with your education. Still think having your own money, not THEIRS, is a silly idea?]
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