Best thought-out utopia ever:
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, all the cops have wooden legs And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs The farmer’s trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay Oh I’m bound to go where there ain’t no snow Where the rain don’t fall, the wind don’t blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks And little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind There’s a lake of stew and of whiskey too And you can paddle all around ’em in a big canoe In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin, And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in There ain’t no short-handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks, I’m a-goin’ to stay where you sleep all day Where they hung the jerk that invented work In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
Does it occur to anyone else that the fable is not a warning against doing favors in general but of siding with “outsiders” against “insiders”? When the farmer protects the venomous snake from the people trying to kill it, from a human perspective he’s doing a bad thing. When the heron recommends white fowl as a medicine, even he were not to himself become a meal, he’s not doing the bird community any favors. And the farmer’s wife, in letting the heron go, is depriving her husband of vital medicine.