Once upon a time there was an extremely egotistical and conceited crow. He was, if truth be told, extremely good looking and never had difficulty finding a date. All the female crows enjoyed being seen with him. Of course, these dates never turned into relationships as none of these females was good enough for our friend.
Well, as will often happen with crows and others of his mindset, our conceited crow felt that the rules which applied to all other crows did not apply to him. He was, quite frankly, too important to be bound by the laws of nature that applied to everyone else.
As it happened to be an extremely harsh winter, many of the crows had migrated south to escape Mother Nature’s bitter chill. But not our friend who refused to admit that there was someone or something more powerful than himself. So he stayed behind and resolved not to allow the elements get the best of him.
This went on for several weeks. But the food which he needed became more and more scarce. He spent far more time harvesting his meals than he had before and this, of course, meant that he had to fly longer than was his custom. Between the extra exertion he had to put forth, coupled with the inclement weather, one day he fell from his perch in a bare birch tree and dropped to the ground.
As he lay there, he thought to himself, “What an unfair fate it is that has been handed to me. Here am I, the handsomest and most witty of all crows, preparing to meet death, frozen stiff and laying in this barren, snow-filled landscape. Truly, there is no justice in this world.”
As he held these thoughts, ready to pass out from hypothermia, a cow came by and saw the crow on the ground. The cow lived in a farmer’s barn a short distance away and had plenty to eat from the store of hay that the farmer had put away for the winter. In fact, she had just finished a particularly delicious and plentiful meal and had to relieve herself. She did so, virtually burying the inert crow in her dung.
With the remaining moments of consciousness left to him, our hero again began musing about his fate.
“Wasn’t it bad enough that I am dying at a premature age? How the world will go on without me I cannot even imagine. And to add insult to injury, I am buried in a pile of cow manure. There is no justice in this world,” he repeated silently to himself.
But after a few minutes the crow noticed something. The heat of the cow’s dung was beginning to warm his frozen body. He could feel the blood begin to circulate to his feet and his wings. And it didn’t take too long before he was feeling like his old self once again.
With his energy renewed, he began clawing his way out of the dung heap. He was feeling his old vigor return and began digging and pecking faster and faster until finally he saw the sky above him. With one mighty thrust, he pushed aside the last clod of manure that stood between him and freedom and soared overhead, cawing loudly as he rose in the air as he started to fly to an old oak tree.
Just at that moment, several youngsters, armed with twenty-two rifles, appeared in the clearing, took aim at the crow and shot him dead.
MORAL: If you rise to the top on bull sh*t, you’re going to get shot down.
cc: All those elected “leaders” who pass laws for others but who exempt themselves from them.