Harey Tales —The Continuing Adventures of Flopsy and Wopsy — Flopsy Greets Promethean Action

Harey Tales, is an occasional post capturing the views of Hares with respect to those deranged Malthusians claiming unceasing love for them.

Flopsy Greets Promethean Action

“Ow!  Ouch!  Drat!” —We find our hero Flopsy fighting among the branches and bushes and thorns in a thicket of woods not far from his abode.   “I am getting too old to do this,” he muttered.  Nevertheless, he persevered, for he knew that somewhere in this maze—Somewhere!—there was a patch of raspberry bushes with ripe succulent fruit.  “Grr!” he growled.  Try as he might, he could not find them.  Suddenly the branches and leaves parted and he found himself in a clearing.  “Oh, well,” he sighed, “I might as well take a rest.”  And with that he found a spot with soft grass and squatted down.

Flopsy rested for quite some time—for it was a beautiful day, warm with just a slight breeze.  A handful of butterflies danced around a wild fuchsia, and he spied a few ladybugs crawling among the leaves, performing their beneficent work.  “Beautiful creatures,” he murmured.  In other words, it was a day that signified God’s love for all of His creatures.

But little did Flopsy realize, the day was about to become even better.

He heard a noise behind him, sort of a shouting or yodeling, and he turned his head.  Rushing toward him, from the other side of the meadow, he saw a figure bounding forward, but bounding didn’t really describe it.  It was a crazy and erratic zig-zag of hopping—up and down, right and left, at diagonals this way and that, and even, if his eyes hadn’t fooled him, a series of jumps that seemed to curve in mid-air.  As the mad-cap approach drew near, he gasped and spoke, “Why, it’s Wopsy!”

Flopsy was both astounded at Wopsy’s unorthodox entrance and very pleased to see him.  It had been months since he either spoke to or laid eyes upon him.  “Wopsy!  Wopsy!” he cried, “It is so good to see you.  Where have you been all this time?”

Wopsy stopped, dead in his rabbit tracks, bent forward and breathed deeply.  A few heaves, several deep breaths, and then he blurted, “Flopsy, I have been looking all over for you!  I was told you were out at the raspberry patch.”

“Yes, but I didn’t find any.”

“That’s because you’re in the completely wrong place.  They are all the way over on the other side of Mrs.  McGintey’s old farmhouse.”

“Oh, dear me!”

“Anyway, to answer your question, I have been gone these many months visiting my cousin in San Francisco, but I will speak of that adventure another time.  I have something much more important to tell you.  That is why I rushed over here.”

“What could possibly be that important, dear Wopsy?”

“Just this;  a group of courageous and bright humans have just announced the founding convention for a new association called ‘Promethean Action’, and what they propose to accomplish could change the world in astounding ways.”

 “Well that sounds encouraging my friend, and you certainly seem enthused about it”—here he paused, then continued—”but many of these human groups and organizations come and go without making much of a difference.  What makes you think this is different?”

 “They have issued a Manifesto, and it is nothing like what you have ever heard before.  They intend to ignite a new Renaissance to uplift human culture.”

 “Well,” Flopsy shot back, “that is certainly needed.  Human beings are in a very sad state right now.”

 “I know.  Here, let me read you a short section from what they have written.  It goes like this:

 “Across thousands of years, the image of Prometheus stands for the struggle of mankind to progress through the creative powers of the mind, against opposition by the degenerate Olympian oligarchs determined to keep mankind stupid and impoverished. The image of Prometheus was in the minds of the Greek thinkers Solon, Socrates, Plato and Archytas, who led the fight against the earthly Olympians of their day—the Persian Empire, the tyrants of Athens and Sparta, and the democratic party of Athens who held the same hatred of human development as Zeus. The image of Prometheus was well known to the early Christians and Jews who fought the oligarchical Roman Empire, which, like Zeus’s Olympians, ultimately destroyed itself through its own moral decay. 

“Later, in the 18th and 19th centuries, the image of Prometheus stood for our fight to establish the U.S.A as a constitutional republic based on the principle of the inherent dignity of man. Benjamin Franklin, the intellectual and political founder of the U.S.A., was known as the Prometheus of the 18th Century, who “snatched lightning from the sky and the scepter from tyrants.” The greatest German, English, and American poets, musicians, and painters celebrated the story of Prometheus to inspire their audiences to spread the cause that had finally achieved success with the founding of the completely new and unique American republic. Lyndon LaRouche shared this vision of Prometheus and held that the fostering of God-given human creativity was the driver of all economy and the most important function of a republic.”

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Wopsy exclaimed.

“It certainly is, dear Wopsy.  We hares have always admired the quality of creativity which God chose to bestow on humans.  It has been very sad, indeed, to see them squander this gift in recent years.  You are absolutely right.  This portends great things.  It could change everything in the world.”

The conference is in Taylor, Michigan on June 8^th.  You can pre-register here.