“It is amazing that people who think we cannot afford to pay for doctors, hospitals, and medication somehow think that we can afford to pay for doctors, hospitals, medication and a government bureaucracy to administer it.” - Thomas Sowell

“The art of government is the organization of idolatry. The bureaucracy consists of functionaries; the aristocracy, of idols; the democracy, of idolaters. The populace cannot understand the bureaucracy: it can only worship the national idols.” - George Bernard Shaw

“Government never solves problems. It usually adds to them or exaggerates them. Bureaucracies load the private sector with good intention programs that the developer can pay for. Private enterprise is not a mule that can carry an ever-increasing load.” - Ron Yacopetti


Once there was a king and he hired him a prophet to prophet him his weather. And one evening the king he aimed to go fishing and the likeliest fishing place was right next to his best girl's house, so the king notioned to wear his best clothes. So he asked his prophet was hit liable to come on a rain before sundown. And the prophet says: 'No, king, hit ain't a-coming on not even a sizzle-sozzle.'

So the king he put on his best clothes and started towards the fishing place. And along come a farmer riding on a jackass, and the farmer he says: 'King, if'n you ain't aiming to git them clothes wetted you'd best go back home, because hit's a-coming on to rain a trash-mover and a gully-washer.

And the king says: 'I hired me a high-wage prophet to prophet me my weather, and he allows hit ain't a-coming on not even a sizzle-sozzle.'

So the king he went ahead and hit come on a trash-mover and a gully-washer, and the king's clothes was wetted and his best girl she seen him and laughed. And the king went home and throwed out his prophet and he says: 'Fotch me that there farmer', and they fotched him. And the king says: 'Farmer, I throwed out my other prophet and I aim to hire you to prophet me my weather from this onwards.'

And the farmer says: 'King, I ain't no prophet. All I done this evening was to look at my jackass, because if'n hit's a-coming on to rain his ears lops down, and the lower they lays the harder hit's a-coming on to rain, and this evening they was a-laying and a-lopping.'

So the king says: 'Go home, farmer. I'll hire me the jackass.'

And that's how hit started, and jackasses hev been holding all the high wage gov'ment jobs ever sence.



(Footnote: My Dad used to love telling this story at suppertime when we'd have company over....so many times, in fact, my Mom got sick of it and told him not to tell it again! I don't know what she threatened him with (probably the usual..."withholding of services rendered". In my cleaning up and sorting out, I came across a typed, faded copy. You know, when typewriters used to fill in the solid parts of letters, and police could tell what machine the ransom note had been typed on!

My question.....what do you do with this sort of thing? It has sentimental value, but....c'mon, it's a piece of paper!

What would you do? I need a little help here!

PEACE.

Posted by Evydense on Thursday, August 24, 2006 at 9:46 a.m. | Permalink