Friedrich Nietzche: “It is through being wounded that power grows and can, in the end, become tremendous”

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Ever since that glorious day I came out of my mother’s womb, I have been taught, told and trained by a powerful man who holds dominion over all other things on this planet. He has taught me who to love and who to loathe, what to lust and what to behold. He claims that the Lord is the conductor of his empirical symphony and that manifest destiny is the beat that the world dances to.

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Recently, as part of a job application I was asked to prepare a personal statement of equity. There were no directions (– and I never got an interview) so I have no idea what was expected. I could find no examples, — not one on the world wide web (perhaps my googling leaves something to be desired!) So, what I produced was an original document that arose out of my own heart and mind.

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Guess who said this:

“News providers had better get web-savvy, stop lecturing their audiences, become places for conversation and destinations where bloggers and podcasters congregate to engage our reporters and editors in more extended discussions.”

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As reported by Democracy Now, May 17, 2007,

“… a new international study has ranked the United States health care system last among major rich countries even though the U.S. spends double what the average industrialized country spends on health care. The study by the Commonwealth Fund found that the U.S. ranked last in most areas, including access to health care, patient safety, timeliness of care, efficiency and equity. 45 million Americans, or 15 percent of the US population, have no health insurance.”

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“I smell burnt toast and am having problems breathing,” I wheezed. “I need to go to the hospital right away.”
“I will call the cab company,” my fiancée yelped.
“You can’t drive me to the hospital? Is Days of our Lives on or something?” I gasped.
“No dear, chances are that the cab driver will be a doctor and he can fix you right up and the wait time will be drastically shorter than the hospital!”

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Saved From The Streets

I was headed for juvie
a few break and enters
some stolen cars, one armed robbery.
The Army was my best way out
before I ended on the street for good

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On 9/11 I was in a nearby office building
I did not see the planes hit
but sure heard and felt them
everything trembled
I trembled

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No Free Lunch

A stock broker was sitting on a park bench one afternoon when a mosquito lit upon his arm and asked for lunch. The stock broker replied, “I need my blood for myself. But I am always open to a deal.”
The mosquito contemplated. “I happen to have many viruses. I will share them with you. Perhaps one of them will evolve into penicillin and make you richer than you already are.”
Being richer than he already was—was fundamental to his life goals–so the stockbroker allowed the tiny insect to suck out a few drops of his blood. She nodded her thanks and flew away.
A few days later, her daughter returned, with a few hundred relatives. The stock broker gladly rolled up his sleeves, even though he knew it was a high risk transaction. “The bigger the deal, the bigger the profit,” he chortled.
“The insect sisterhood appreciates the many new lives we can create with your blood,” they said as they ate their fill.
Day by day he traded his blood for the possibility of receiving a beneficial virus. Three weeks later, he sat on the bench suffering from malaria, West Nile Virus, anemia and other dreadful conditions. Thousands of mosquitoes descended on him, all descendants of the original insect, all from his own blood.
As the insects drank the remainder of his blood, the stock broker moaned, “This deal did not work out. I’m in a major correction—my ticker is almost run out.”
One of the great great great great granddaughters of the original mosquito nodded. “You should have sold short,” she said, and finished him off.

Making A Statement

Once upon a time a billionaire learned he was soon to die from cancer. He became determined to make a statement with his death, and for society to recognize he was useful (beyond generating wealth for himself). Without a care for the economic consequences–he had not become a billionaire by being sensitive to the needs of others–he began to liquidate his holdings, turning his hotels and factories and farms and stocks into gold bars. The sudden massive sales caused markets to plummet, leading to a severe Depression.
Meanwhile he constructed a huge crypt made from gold and stored the gold bars inside. Gazing upon the completed glittering crypt, he was filled with both disease and confidence. He would soon die but his statement about wealth would live forever, and his use to society would be recognized.
While the billionaire gloried in his crypt, a citizen walked by who had lost his life’s savings in the Depression. Recognizing the billionaire, he became enraged. The billionaire backed away from him, slipped on the sidewalk, fell, cracked his skull, and died.
The Foundation looking after his crypt implemented his wish to make a statement with his death by having him cremated and, on every anniversary of his death, sprinkled his ashes on the sidewalk where he had slipped, until he ran out. It was many years before anyone slipped on that spot again.
Society had finally recognized a use for him.

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