Arm Flapping, Inc.

Each of us exists in a vortex between our own personal reality and Reality itself. When these two realities are in conflict, we have war. When conflict is absent, we have harmony. Luckily, harmony is what everyone says their reality is! But even if conflict does exist, for a time, even that can seem as harmony.


If a man jumps off a cliff and flaps his arms, he can - for a time - claim to be flying. And it's during this time before reality (literally) hits curious things can be observed! Two groups of people are drawn to such a person. First are the Blind Loyalists, "friends" of the Arm Flapper who cheer him on: "Don't listen to the naysayers, the defeatists and the small-minded men who say it can't be done! You showed them all you can fly!" Next are the Morality Posers. "We have come not to speak ill of this man, to judge him not and any idea of interference is off the table!" Thus did they hope to be seen in the right.


But the true tragedy was none admitted "Flying Man" wore a parachute - not even the flyer himself. So taken was he with the idea he could fly, the moron rejected any thought of opening his chute. He was falling to greatness, rewriting history on what was and was not possible! He was, quite simply, a god. This drove his Blind Loyalists into a frenzy, cheering him to "stay the course!" After a lifetime of losing, the Arm Flapper gloried in success beyond his wildest dreams.


The Morality Posers congratulated themselves for not engaging in such tomfoolery and proudly proclaimed how they had no ill will to destroy the Flapper's dream. But searing anguish did it cause when others insisted the Falling Man use his chute! Bitter rage and howling wails rained down upon these Insisters of Reality from the Flapper and his ilk in such fury that their venom could not be mistaken: to criticize is to declare total war. Upon hearing this, the Posers - self-styled patrons of peace - dutifully held their tongues.


But Reality - with a THUD a thousand feet below - made all this moot. No longer was there any right or wrong, traitors or patriots, sane or insane - there was only That Which Was: an irreversible Reality of doom. For in his (allowed) grab for ultimate power, the Flapper held secret the place he'd stored the summer harvest. That was his personal laughing legacy as his people watched the cold of winter slowly sap the warmth from their days. And in the frigid winds of cold starvation, no longer was harmony proclaimed.


Reality trumps all Man's claims of self-righteousness.