Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Private Elevator


     Give me the synopsis, let me understand what the person is trying to say, then I have a chance to wade through the details, look for those things I disagree with and become wisely challenged by them.  At least theoretically.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, I don't seem to function that way, and I'd suggest nor do you, because we are more like Crocodiles than we are like Plato's Socrates.  A character written to engender the wisdom of Solomon in students, or in Plato's case Pericles the Tyrant, a brilliant leader whose own entail were not similarly blessed with the wisdom and foresight of goldenness.  A record that resounds down the ages, because Socrates' own three children, were according to Aristotle 'silly and dull.'  And we all know what that means. 

      But climbing the mountain, my pitons are deep somewhere in a limbic system that identifies 'a private elevator in a public building.'  It asks the question, what kind of mind would demand such a thing, and what else might it want from the work of others.   It could be a convenience against corridors of bustle and touching from vulgar litigators, or from the scent of beggars un-entitled to beg.  It could be an allergy to the taste of other opinions, colors and kinds, which might once have proved a useful shyness in our species, and still lingers.  Or, it could be that higher up in his cerebral cortex the man is just an asshole.  However, my own Prince, may place a private elevator wherever his brave heart desires, and I guess so can yours.


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