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   KeepTakingTheSoma (keeptakingthesoma@spinster.xyz)'s status on Friday, 13-Feb-2026 01:22:20 JST KeepTakingTheSoma
   As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
   I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
   Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
   And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.
   
   We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
   That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
   But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
   So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.
   
   We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
   Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
   But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
   That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.
   
   With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
   They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
   They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
   So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.
   
   When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
   They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
   But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
   And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."
   
   On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
   (Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
   Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
   And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."
   
   In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
   By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
   But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
   And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."
   
   Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew,
   And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
   That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four–
   And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.
   
   As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
   There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
   That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
   And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
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   And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
   When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
   As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
   The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
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     HebrideanHecate (hebrideanhecate@spinster.xyz)'s status on Friday, 13-Feb-2026 01:56:51 JST HebrideanHecate

     in reply to

     @KeepTakingTheSoma Good old Kipling.

     KeepTakingTheSoma likes this.
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     Nina Paley (ninapaley@spinster.xyz)'s status on Friday, 13-Feb-2026 01:58:08 JST Nina Paley

     in reply to
     @KeepTakingTheSoma The Rich Man's Burden
     Parody of Kipling's "White Man's Burden" by Nina Paley, circa A.D. 2000
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden--
     Send forth the best ye breed
     To sell your captives products
     regardless of their need;
     Go wait, in heavy harness,
     on bosses far away--
     So that your corporate masters
     can save on workers' pay.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden--
     In patience to disguise,
     To veil the threat of terror
     With media that lies
     By double-speak and symbol,
     To serve your Bosses' gain,
     To seek your Masters' profit
     And cause your captives pain.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden--
     The savage Wars of Peace--
     Kill, maim, explode, and torture,
     to make the violence cease;
     And when your goal is nearest
     (the growth of markets sought)
     Watch unemployed consumers
     bring all your hopes to naught.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden--
     No iron rule of kings,
     But rule of Corporations
     that Globalism brings.
     Their ports ye shall not enter,
     Their rugs ye shall not tread,
     Go, serve them for your living,
     Go, serve them 'til you're dead.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden,
     and reap his old reward--
     Employment for the boring,
     TV shows for the bored--
     The cry of other nations,
     on whom you force your plight
     Of quiet desperation
     With military might.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden--
     Ye dare not hope for more--
     Don't challenge ye the system
     That churns for greed and war.
     By all ye will or whisper,
     By all ye leave or do,
     Stay silent, sullen peoples,
     You've got your jobs to do.
     
     Take up the Rich Man's burden!
     Do not think for yourself!
     Obey the Bosses' orders--
     Half devil and half elf!
     Work for the Rich Man's profit
     Die for the Rich Man's war;
     Take up the Rich Man's Burden
     And stay forever poor.
     KeepTakingTheSoma likes this.
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     KeepTakingTheSoma (keeptakingthesoma@spinster.xyz)'s status on Friday, 13-Feb-2026 02:00:53 JST KeepTakingTheSoma

     in reply to

     • Nina Paley
     @ninapaley Love it.