Honor, as described in Websters, is that of high regard, good reputation, adherence to right principles, and a little further down is the kicker. Treat with respect. When I think about that, I compare it to the officers on the bridge of a ship. You would not want them drunk, but they drink as if there were no tomorrows. You would not want them careless, but they don't care. You would not want them negligent, but negligence is just a word for them - they're so used to throwing other peoples' money around.
Thus, given that the ship has been driven onto the shoals (a shallow place in the water, usually where the boat is stuck, and is ready to keel over), you'd think they'd try to figure out another way to port. They don't. Stubbornly they cling to the idea it's someone else's fault, and some among the crew even blame the passengers.
However, aside of the obvious, as to who actually steered into a disaster, wide-eyed, singing bards and carefree, there is still the notion to get us off and back on course.
Unfortunately, the crew is still drunk, and the captain was sighted naked and climbing the mainmast. To any individual's desire to avoid capsizing, it means getting out of there and limping home.
That's where the topic of honor comes in. Who among the crew is brave enough to admit it was their fault, on their watch, and their responsibility? The captain is now in the bird's nest, the steward fell overboard, and the kitchen's cook was putting together a bouillabaisse no one really wants.
The purser screams that he needs immediate relief, followed by a huge endorsement of everyone's cash. Grumbling, passengers open up their wallets and the money flows. Why the money flows, no one really knows, except you can't use your credit cards without it.
Thus, even though you're stuck on the good ship lollipop, no one questions the illogic of trying to save what's no longer in the stores, regardless of its potential worth. In this context, the word potential means what may be valuable in the future, if ever.
At this point, some of the passengers are saying enough. The crew has proven they're useless. None of them can be trusted. A couple of people come forth and states that although they've never been at the helm, they have a few good ideas on how to save themselves.
Passengers are skittish. Whom to trust? The group that betrayed them or the group that promises at least a good shot at it. That's where John McCain and Ensign Palin come in. John was seeing to the rigging, which loaded up the whiskey, and Ensign Palin, in the head, was fretting over the frozen plumbing and the lack of toilet tissue from the far off land of Seattle. She misses home. From there she could see all the way across the Bering Strait to the eastern shores of Russia. On the other hand, it may have been across Hudson Bay to Ethiopia. She was never very good with descriptions.
Anyway, there they were down in the hold when the cargo of whiskey was discovered and dutifully confiscated by the captain, and the second mate. We don't know where the second mate is right now; he seems to have a hiding place where he drinks alone.
The Steward comes round enough to warn the passengers of the folly of taking over. They had no experience. They had no training. What if they rigged something to free themselves from the shoals, only to drive onto another area of shoals? One of the passengers volunteered to man the helm, and promised not to drink any whiskey, rum or Daiquiris.
A priest steps forward and solemnly blesses everyone, while he secretly prepares a lifeboat for himself. The priest's name is Karl Rove. The navigator, Condi Rice, who benefited in a lot of ways by hauling herself around with the drunken captain's family, maintains that if they stay where they are, help will eventually come for them. Where, she doesn't know, but she has faith.
A crewman, who shot a passenger, and then himself in the foot, now lay in the infirmary. Fearful of their lives, the passengers lock Mr. Rumsfeld away, and throw away the key.
Now, question. Given the facts, is John McCain qualified to take command, and if so, what of his choice as second?
The passengers muddle it over. It's a question of honor, don't you see. Honorable people not only know their limitations, but aren't shy to admit them either. Dishonorable people, on the other hand...make believe they have what it takes, if only to distance themselves from the pack of fools who drove them onto the shoals.
Passengers who fall for their line are morons. This brings us to another question. How many morons can you pack on a ship? As many as a ship stuck on the shoals will carry.
recommend this
email
print
link to this page
