‘Tolerance’, The Egg Laid by the Golden Noose.
April 11th, 2009I have debated about publishing this post… but it is late and I am feeling foolish
…so, why not?
The condemned, yet innocent, captives fitted with a hangman’s noose have to wonder if the sudden drop will break the neck, quickly ending all pain, or if they will slowly suffocate as the unyielding braided cord of the noose strangles them by the force of their own weight.
They are far past considering which fate they deserve, and have moved on to which they desire.
One wonders, however, of the man who wears the noose as a fashion statement, and then strains against it, attempting to grasp a fashionable egg, just out of reach, all the while the executioner watches.
I couldn’t keep this image from coming to mind, as I noticed that the voices crying the loudest for ‘tolerance’ come through crushed throats and blue lips. I reached a point where I said, ‘No more.” to the executioners’ voices crying; ‘You almost have it, just a little further’. I noticed they are still saying that to my neighbor with the blue lips.
Who made the noose? why do I have to wear it again? And what is it about that egg that makes it so important?
Strangely enough, as soon as I give up stretching for the egg, the noose is tightened for me. And as soon as I take the noose off, that oh-so-precious egg is thrown in my face, and I am made to understand.
Well, it must be one big joke and the egg on my face for not seeing it sooner, it is so clear, I missed it for so long. Let me explain with a true-life situation:
There is a ‘huge’, well publicized riot, and angry protest going on in cities and around capitols across the world and in the United States, where the people march, carry witty and sharp banners, and angrily shout slogans demanding more love, peace, understanding, and tolerance.
…I’ll attend that protest just as soon as I finish organizing my million-man march calling for inaction.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that everyone should conform to me. But those calling for tolerance, sadly, cannot honestly say the same thing. I am not advocating violence, angst, or resentment. I am not even crying ‘injustice’; no one is hanging me but myself. Am I crying out ‘hypocrite’? Um… Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am. I strongly doubt that those I prominently point my finger at are even aware of this possibility. If they are, we could add ‘liar’ to the list.
So what am I advocating? Simple really; dig your heels in like a stubborn mule, ignore the name calling, tugging, and slapping, then return to your roots. There are values, beliefs, dreams, ambitions, and aspirations that make up the culture we are quickly loosing. ‘Tolerance’ is not being peddled or even suggested; it is force-fed with a razor-studded glove. With every swallow, every concession, we loose our ability to be what we are. Strange, I thought diversity and the consideration of culture were central to the message of tolerance. Well, what about mine? Who will come to ’save’ the culture of the majority as it starts to die?
I think of this, as the executioner replaces the noose, explaining how golden tolerance is, and why I need it.
And that egg on my face, well, it tastes like cough syrup; bad-imitation cherry with that chemical after-taste. The executioner says it cures hate-speech. I don’t even know what that is, but he insists that I have the disease, and everyone with the disease is either cured, or must die
…Apparently I am sick. The man in the black hood is here to make it all better, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Brice Bitter