A polluted society

A polluted society



The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.

We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time;

We have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space.

We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.

We've split the atom, but not our prejudice.

We write more, but learn less.

We plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait.

We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just ignore it.



Compiled by: YJ Draiman

The Dinner Roll

The Dinner Roll

Once upon a time I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with
the President.

I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for
computers and portable electronics.

There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the
administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a FREE country. There's
nothing that the government can do to me if I've broken no laws. My wealth
was EARNED honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President
is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the
President in a yellow dining room.

We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great
Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out,
plucked a dinner roll off my plate and began nibbling it as he walked back
to the kitchen.



"Sorry 'bout that," said the President. "Andrew is very hungry."


"I don't appreciate..." I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes
across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner
roll. "Of course," I concluded, and reached for my glass.

Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away
and swallowed the wine in a single gulp. "And his brother, Eric, is very
thirsty," said the President.

I didn't say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I
withheld my comments and decided to play along. I don't want to seem unkind.

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite. "Eric's children are
also quite hungry."

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from
under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was
carried from the room. "And their grandmother can't stand for long."

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool.
Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I
reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the
President. "Their grandfather doesn't like the cold."

I wanted to shout, "that was my coat!" But again, I looked at the placid
smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my
hands helplessly and chuckled.

Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself
and walked to a phone on an elegant side table.

I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts
emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had
been thrown out of our home.

Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President
hadn't moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the
phone into its cradle and turned to face him. "Andrew's whole family has
made bad financial decisions. They haven't planned for retirement and they
need a house. They recently defaulted on a sub-prime mortgage. I told them
they could have your home. They need it more than you do."

My hands were shaking. I felt faint I stumbled back to the table and knelt
on the floor.

The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak, and drank his wine. I
lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that
were water drops.

"By the way," he added, "I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing
your factories.

I'm firing you as head of your business. I'll be operating the firm now for
the benefit of all mankind.

There's a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can't come to
you for jobs groveling like beggars...we need to spread YOUR wealth around."


He drained the last drops of his wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a
cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and
I were a man hanging over an abyss.

I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had
earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle.

Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played
and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that
there was no game board between us. What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, President Obama suddenly cocked his
head, locked his empty eyes to mine, bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly
as he folded his hands.

"You should have stopped me at the dinner roll," he said.

WAKE UP AMERICA !!!