"How Then Shall We Live?"

It happens slowly; I guess you could make the obvious comparisons: frogs in water, insipid change, devious misdirection, lies. But it happens and when it happens and you realize it it’s too late for anything. Because they did it while you were sleeping, when you were on vacation, whenever. But they did it. They kill you, kill your past, your present, and then they kill you in public. And they tell you it’s ok.

They are killers. They change things when you aren’t looking. They kill you and they don’t even tell you that you are dead; you are forced to suffer the indignity of the self-realization of your own death. Wow. How slick it that.

It happens the same way everywhere. Status quo is challenged, hushed conversations lead to gelled thought converted into some new public opinion, tested weakly by those who ‘truly have your best interest at heart’.

I like Orwell. I like him because he told us about all of this a hundred years ago. Remember 1984? No? How about Animal Farm? Let’s talk about that one. The farmer dies, or moves to Florida, or whatever, and the farm is left on it’s own. So the animals begin to starve. And that adversity forces them to all pull together, planting crops, gathering firewood, fetching water. All the animals on the farm, a socialist paradise, producing, providing, living, loving. All of the animals except for the pigs.

See, the pigs were smart. Or they thought so anyway. It doesn’t matter, because this already happened, and now they have killed all of us and our dreams and besides, it’s better because they know best. But let me tell my story, because I have a little time to kill before I go.

So anyway, the pigs were smarter. It was the pigs who came up with the idea that we should have a plan, a common goal uniting us in the struggle. So they talked, and we listened. They talked some more and we sat there and took it. We took them seriously as they took away our lives, one rule at a time. At night. While we were sleeping.

The pigs liked to eat (don’t they all? But that’s profiling; sorry). They ate later than us, and since we all know that being smart and thinking require more food and drink then ordinary labor, it seemed ok at the time. I’m not nostalgic, just trying to clear my memory, ok? So they ate later, and slept later. Besides, they knew best. They got so smart they actually moved into the farmer’s house and started (trying, at least) to walk on two legs! Funny, I know. But then they decided to learn to read. And write.

So they wrote. I remember that meeting. They called us all together and sat us in the barnyard. The haymow was covered by a large cloth, held there with a couple of nails and some bailing twine. They talked about how well we were all doing and how far we had come, and also about how far we had to go. They reminded us winter was coming, and that ‘while our current efforts were to be commended, they fall far short of the reality of our increasing needs’. Then they talked about their recent decision to learn to read and write, and went on and on about all of us being ‘in this together’. Then they lifted the sheet covering the haymow.

Of course we are all animals and can’t appreciate the written word, but they explained to us what it said:

“All Animals Are Equal”

They told us what it meant, and boy, how we cheered. The strong draft horses worked themselves to death, braying out ‘we are all equal’. The dogs got into the act, working with the cats to organize the barnyard. The sheep and cows gave more milk and wool; you name it, we tried to do it harder. Then came the next meeting. The same barnyard; the same haymow; the sheet hung in pregnant anticipation.

“There just isn’t enough for all of us” they said. “And besides, we hear that some of you are not true believers in our common endeavor’ (we didn’t understand all the big words, but we got the picture). That’s when they began to sell us off to market. We knew it was coming; we thought that we had escaped that little sad chapter of our lives but, as usual, the pigs knew best (certainly) and besides, isn’t that the way it was always done?

So, the meeting. The announcement about sending us to market was not popular, but as we looked around we realized that there were a lot of us who, let’s face it, just weren’t pulling their weight. They were getting older and weaker, or couldn’t/wouldn’t adapt, whatever. So, the sheet:

“All a*****s pigs are equal”

Of course it made sense. Pigs are smart. They help us make it into and through the winter; they even speak for us when we can’t express ourselves. Of course all pigs are equal; how could you see it any other way? Anyone who truly believes in the farm can see that yes, the pigs are certainly equal. Of course.

So the autumn dragged on into winter. The draft horses (those who were left) pulled harder; the chickens pushed out eggs as fast as they could, but still it was not enough. We just couldn’t do enough to keep the pigs happy. See, they worked hard in the farmhouse; they had meeting late at night, and had taken to actually conversing with the people in the town and dealing with them to negotiate (another word we don’t know, but it’s ok) for better prices. And then there was the drinking. The pigs couldn’t keep thinking and planning all the time, they would become exhausted. So on the weekends, when our labors were through, they would close up the farmhouse and we could hear the tremendous noise coming from their private parties. Sometimes the noise turned nasty. One night it ended badly, and the next day the men came from town with a cart and took away one of our leaders to the processing plant. That’s the day that I remember waking up; the day I realized I was dead. The day we had the next meeting.

See, we knew we were all equal, and that the pigs worked hard. We also knew that since the pigs worked harder than us that we should be thankful for them and support them, no matter what. So, the meeting. Again, in the barnyard. The sheet, on the haymow. The leader pig, standing before us on two feet (!), talking about “the plan” and “true believers” and other things that used to sound smart and make us feel good. Then he signaled and the sheet came down.

“All animals pigs are equal, but some pigs are more equal than others”

Anyway, I don’t know what it all means. It’s time for me to go now. I have gotten a little older and slowed down, and of course all us have to make some sacrifices sometimes. I need to go now; don’t worry about me. I’ll be ok. I heard it doesn’t hurt. They just do something to your brain and then it doesn’t matter because you can’t feel pain or fear or raise a fuss.

See you later.