Just Another Rat In The Rat Kingdom

I have a good friend of mine who always seems to get himself into a mess. While everyone else is content with the homogenized, plasticized, gentrified scraps rolling down from the sovereign mountain, Johnny is laying plans for lobster dinner. We all know that everyone, sane and insane, dream for something better. But folks, you need to know something about Johnny. If Johnny wants lobster dinner, he knows how to get it. The pain and process of getting the lobster dinner is enormous. But Johnny can handle it. The problem is, the other rats recognize how good Johnny is at getting what he sets his mind to.

Like Sisyphus of old, rolling that damn boulder, Johnny sets out pushing the lobster cart up the mountainside to get to the sovereign ogres mansion flowing with crustaceans and butter. Along the way a few scheming rats jump in the cart with Siren songs like “we will help you collect the lobster once we get there — you will be too tired, but don’t you worry Johnny, we’re in this together and we’ll be there to take care of you!”

The heavy ass rats sprawl out in the cart relaxing and dreaming of the prize up ahead. “Speed up!” they rant. “Stop hitting all these bumps. It hurts our delicate backsides,” they chatter. They look down at amusement as beads of sweat pour down Johnny’s face saying “It is so hot out here I think I might faint” as they fan themselves in mockery.

Johnny gets the cart a few feet away from the top and wham, the rats jump out kicking him in the face as they leap and watch in the delight as Johnny and the cart careen down the mountainside. They then take two steps to get to the top boasting of their accomplishment, forgetting who made this all possible in the first place. Johnny lay broken and bleeding at the bottom with only the shattered dream to discomfort him…

This story wouldn’t be so bad except it happens over and over again with Sisyphean consistency. Unfortunately, Johnny ain’t alone in this misery. It seams Atlas has a lot more shrugging to do before we all get sick of the good for nothing rats, the sovereign overlords, and the entire twisted system of indentured servitude for the brilliant.

I say we round up all the rats, push them up the mountain, light their fat asses ablaze, and send their Molotov cock-tails right into the mansion!