I have to return to this one every so often, as a reminder to check my perspective.
Every government is a geejy bird.
The geejy bird is a strange creature; it flies only once in its lifetime, but that flight is a spectacle to behold. The geejy bird appears suddenly, standing on a limb, young, elegant, proud and respectable. Surveying the horizon, it spreads its majestic wings and swoops upward in a wide graceful curve, with magnificent wing flappings and loud glory whoops. When it reaches maximum altitude, it begins its elegant descent, an ever narrowing spiral. It makes smaller and smaller circles in the sky until, suddenly and mysteriously, it vanishes through its own asshole.
No one knows where geejy birds go - probably back where they came from. Unfortunately, when they go, they take us along. We are all subjects of one geejy bird or another; we are born and live and die during one of these mad flights. To be born early is, at least, exciting; the air sparkles with hopes and dreams, and there are worthwhile things to be done. To board the flight in the soaring stage is next best; there is a fresh wind and a feel of strong wings and a dizzying view of the world.
But what about those of us who are born near the end of the flight? We can't jump off; the fall would be fatal. In vain we scream, "Turn around, great geejy bird! Turn back in thy flight!" Too late. There is nothing to do but make the best of it. We snap to attention, salute, and begin to sing our stirring anthem. "God Bless Our Geejy Bird!" Together we enter the turd tunnel to oblivion.
The Rape of the A*P*E* (page 174) --Allan Sherman
