The only one clueless enough not to understand why everyone hates Willard is Willard.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Prodigal Bain
Willard and Detroit.
One brother stayed on the farm his father had built, working hard and dutifully tending the fields even as the soil grew thin, many crops were lost and hard times came and kicked his ass over and over again. The other brother went off to Wall Street and made a fortune buying up other people's farms, firing the farmers and selling the equipment and seed corn to China for a handsome profit.
Then one day a planet-engulfing shitstorm that came roaring out of Wall Street. It destroyed homes and jobs by the millions. It leveled entire states and brought whole countries to their knees. And in the middle of the howling maelstrom, Detroit -- the son who had stayed with the family farm -- found that his hard work could no longer outpace his bad luck. Without help the family farm was doomed and so in his hour of greatest need, he called up to the high place atop the mountain of cash on which his brother -- Willard -- lived and ask for his brother's aid.
After hearing his brother's pleas, Willard wrote a long letter to the New York Times explaining why his loser brother should fuck off and die. And that would have been the end for Detroit had his farm not been saved at the last minute by a half-Kenyan, half-Samaritan community organizer.
A year later, Willard came down from his mountain of money long enough to visit his brother's now-prosperous farm and tell him -- with a completely straight face -- that Detroit should help Willard defeat the half-Kenyan, half-Samaritan community organizer because the half-Kenyan, half-Samaritan community organizer secretly hated farms and wanted to destroy them.
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http://driftglass.blogspot.com/2012/02/parable-of-feculents.html
