We Be Lions

Ylions and dogset, though we be lions, we have allowed ourselves—even chosen—to be ruled by dogs. We grumble and roar, threatening to leave the cages they’ve duped us into constructing around ourselves, but the roars sound like mewling whimpers to the dogs, for they know we will not bite.

Revolt, even mild revolt in the form of such things as boycotts of products made by the worst of the dogs, is tenuous at best. Revolution can only occur when the mass of rebels is larger or stronger than the current governing body. The problem with a mass made of human souls is one of unity, and such unity will never occur to the degree necessary in a country—a world—that consists of millions, even billions, of souls; each of which believes it alone has the only real solution to the world’s quandaries.

Yes, a strong singularity of purpose may place many into a vehicle that will carry them toward a common destination. But as time passes—and it passes quickly when the wheels of revolt begin to wobble—some will choose to ride in another vehicle, some will choose to walk, and still others will choose to return to safety via the bus—fully fueled, warm, and comfortable—provided them by the establishment/status quo. In any case, division will ultimately occur, and defeat will always follow. The dogs know this.

And so it is; though we be lions, we have no teeth.

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