All the political bullshit going right now on reminded me of a story I once heard about cow shit. The story came with some very useful morals, especially for a story about cow shit. It went something like this:
Once upon a time there was a black swallow. This swallow had been left behind by his flock and was aimlessly wandering about in a winter blizzard. It was dark, windy, and he had lost all sense of direction. He began to weaken, as nature’s strength overwhelmed him. Finally, he collapsed to the ground. Lying there, motionless, he began to accept his inevitable death. He knew it was just a matter of time.
Meanwhile, a cow meandered over to his soon-to-be final resting place. As if his predicament was not torturous enough, the cow took a shit all over him. He wondered what he did in life to deserve such an unceremonious exit. He only wanted death to come quicker. But death never came. He survived the entire storm inside that pile of shit.
Soon, he realized it was the warmth of the cow’s shit that kept him alive the entire time. The irony of it all gave him a renewed perspective on life. No longer able to contain his joy, the swallow begin to sing loudly. He wanted the whole world to know how happy he was to be alive.
It was during this melodious outburst that a wandering cat overheard the swallow. The cat saw the buried swallow, and dug him out of the pile of shit. The swallow was convinced that his life had taken a turn for the better, and that getting shit on was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Then, the cat ate the swallow.
And now — the part that made reading all this worthwhile, the morals of the story: