Reflecting

Knowing When To Sing

My favorite story my Dad ever told me:

Once upon a time, there was a baby bird, sitting in the nest. And like most baby birds, he wanted to fly. His mom had left him alone in the nest while she went for worms, and he ventured out, to try to fly on his own.

He leaped off the edge of his nest but plummeted down to the ground, where he was knocked unconscious. To make matters worse, it was very cold, and he was on the edge of death from exposure. 

Along came a cow, who crapped on the baby bird. The heat of the cow crap enveloped the baby bird and warmed him. Revived, the baby bird began to sing.

A cat was walking by and heard the baby bird singing. The cat grabbed the baby bird out of the cow poop and promptly ate him.

There are three morals to this story.

  1. Everyone who shits on you is not necessarily your enemy.
  2. Everyone who gets you out of shit is not necessarily your friend.
  3. If you are warm and happy in a pile of shit, keep your mouth shut.

 


I’m going out of town for a few days to see an old friend, and will be largely offline until Wednesday of next week. I’ll see you then. 

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