Rosinante Quixote
ONCE upon a time there was an island. It was a peaceful place – if a little unsophisticated – but its people lived largely in a spirit of proud ignorance. There were some poor, many comfortable, and some rich. But the richest of all were the Monster-Food Makers.
The island was an excellent source of a vegetable matter which constituted Monster-Food. Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd had become experts at the art of acquiring the product and selling it offshore at considerable profit; a process by which everyone benefited, but none more so than the company management and shareholders.
Of course, not all of the people were company management or shareholders. In fact, most of the people were not. Occasionally those people might ask, “Who owns the vegetable matter?” and “What price does the company pay for it?”. But, on those occasions, the people were told of the necessary secrecy of such an arrangement, and reminded that they would be far better off focussing on its significant and obvious benefits.
One day, while pondering the significant and obvious benefits of the Monster-Food business, the management of Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd developed a brilliantly audacious plan.
“We need a monster.”
“To what end?” enquired the Leaders Of The People.
“Look, this island enjoys significant and obvious benefits from the sale of Monster-Food…”
“Agreed.”
“… Imagine how much more Monster-Food we can sell, and how much more significant the benefits, if we eliminate all that unnecessary freight nonsense.”
This was powerful logic, and the Leaders Of The People were convinced that this was Good. However, being Leaders Of The People, it was necessary that they had input into the decision making process.
“It can’t just be any old monster” they warned.
“It will be the biggest and most impressive monster ever seen in these parts.”
“Right. Do it then.”
Some months later Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd unveiled their newly acquired monster. It was indeed the biggest and most impressive monster ever seen in those parts, and the people basked in the pride and security that ownership of such a asset brought. The asset also brought a rapacious appetite, and Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd were stretched to the limit of their substantial resources in keeping it fed. Everyone was busy, and everyone agreed that Progress was indeed a wonderful thing.
The monster’s voracious appetite meant that the vegetable matter which constituted the Monster-Food was being consumed faster than it could be replaced. Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd were forced to go further and further a field in their quest for the product. The Monster also demonstrated a significant thirst. More and more people became involved in the reaping, transportation and delivery of the product, and the reaping, transportation and delivery of water. The Leaders Of The People wallowed in the efficacy of their vision.
The monster, as a result of its tireless consumption, produced significant quantities of effluent. Each day the steaming pile of odious monster dung grew higher and wider, and the puddle of noxious monster urine became deeper and broader. Removalists had never been busier as people elected to move their homes to locations upstream and upwind from the monster effluent, and transport services struggled to keep up with the daily movement of people into and out of the monster zone. Never had so many of the people been so gainfully employed. The now legendary Leaders Of The People retired from their leadership positions and took up consultancies in other places.
Then the island ran out of vegetable matter and water.
The monster – hungry – left.
Monster-Food Makers Pty Ltd, with nothing to feed and nothing to feed it with anyway, went into receivership.
The shareholders joined together in a class action against the management.
The management – bankrupt – were forced to go and live in luxurious places with their extraordinarily wealthy wives and children.
And the people cleaned up the dung.
