A note to readers: this is an old post on the archive website for Promethean PAC. It was written when we were known as LaRouche PAC, before changing our name to Promethean PAC in April 2024. You can find the latest daily news and updates on www.PrometheanAction.com. Additionally, Promethean PAC has a new website at www.PrometheanPAC.com.

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

"Flopsy’s New Year’s Advice"

Our hero Flopsy was snuggled down in his seat, engrossed in one of his favorite stories, “The Gnat and the Lion,” hearing, without really noticing, the faint clickety-clack of the train wheels humming away below him.  Sensing a yawn coming on he leaned his head back and tried to cover his mouth with his paw, and at that moment, much to his surprise, his gaze fell on his dear acquaintance Wopsy, sitting not more than three seats away.  With some difficulty, he laid down his book, climbed down from the seat he was occupying and maneuvered himself over next to his friend.

“Well, hello Wopsy, and Merry Christmas to you!”

“Oh!  It’s you, Flopsy.”

Flopsy noticed a deep furrow in Wopsy’s brow, and even worse his ears were flopping straight down.

“What’s this dear friend?  Why such the Gloomy Gus in this delightful holiday season?”  Did something untoward happen on Christmas Day?”

Wopsy sighed.  “No, the day was fine.  I visited with all of my nieces and nephews.  There were so many of them!  It seems like my sister and her husband just can’t stop doing ‘it’!” 

“Well, after all, that is the way of our species.”

“I know.  I know.  And I was happy to see all of them.  Little Whoopsy was just taking her first hop.”

“Then, why such a downcast look?”

Wopsy sighed again, chewed his lip and said, “I’m worried about my New Year’s Resolution.”

“Your New Year’s Resolution?”  the astonished Flopsy replied.

“Yes.  Every year I pledge to do something good, or to improve myself in some way, and every year I fail miserably.  One year I promised to stop stealing Mrs. O’Shaughnessy’s carrots, but within a week, I was digging in her carrot patch for lunch.  Another year I vowed to break myself of the habit of chasing after the young delectable does, but the very next night that pretty bunny Floopsy got me alone behind the big old oak tree,. . . and you can imagine what happened next!”

“Yes, I’m sure I can.”

“The worst was this year’s resolution,” and with that, Wopsy’s ears sagged even further down.

Flopsy tried to focus on Wopsy’s dilemma, but the mention of carrots had set his mind off thinking about carrot casseroles and carrot stews, and how they would taste with just the right herbs, such that for a moment he forgot exactly where he was.  Finally, he asked, “What exactly was this resolution that proved so disastrous?”

“I resolved to be a better hare, to treat every hare fairly and charitably, just as I would want to be treated.  But I soon found myself falling into the same old habits.  I have not been a very nice hare during the last 12 months.”

The wise Flopsy sensed at once the nature of his friend’s error.  “Your problem is a common one, dear Wopsy.  You have confused ‘being good’ with ‘doing good.’”

Puzzled, Wopsy replied, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“It’s like this, Wopsy.  Most who say they want to be a “good hare”—and our friends the humans suffer greatly from this same misapprehension—are actually thinking about themselves.  They want to be perceived as being good.  They want a reputation that they are ‘good’.  They are like the self-important rabbi or priest who wants to appear holy to his congregants.  They don’t actually have to do anything, just feel warm and satisfied about their own ‘goodness.’”

Wopsy seemed extremely confused, so Flopsy continued, “It is true that our great teacher, Poor Richard, instructs us ‘A right Heart exceeds all’, but to fully understand the meaning of this it is necessary to consult Richard’s teacher, the Reverend Mather.  He advises us,

‘According to the common notions, and common practice of mankind, doing good implies what ever removes pain or imparts pleasure.  But this is evidently a mistaken view of the subject; for pain is frequently a great blessing, and pleasure is frequently a serious evil. . .

‘It is unquestionably owing to the very loose and imperfect ideas which are entertained on this subject of doing good that, amidst all the kindness that is felt, and all the activity which that kindness originates and keeps alive, so little progress is made in the improvement of man's condition—so little added to the aggregate of human happiness—so little achieved of what an enlightened judgment would pronounce to be substantially and unequivocally beneficial.’”

“I don’t understand any of this,” blurted Wopsy, “and what is all this about pain being a great blessing?”

“It’s simple, dear Wopsy.  The key is to realize that ‘being nice’ is not the same as ‘doing good’.   You must think into the future and judge the consequences of your actions.  To do good you must be willing to be unpopular.  How else do you think we hares have survived for so long?  No one likes us but the humans who value us for our wisdom.  It falls to us to tell the foolish goats ‘Don’t jump off the cliff’ and to warn the dim-witted frogs ‘Don’t go near the snakes’.  We have saved many of our fellow creatures in this way, despite rebuffs for our often unappreciated advice.”

A pause ensued.

“Anyway, enough of these serious matters.  Come over to my house.  My granddaughter is preparing a delicious soup, and we shall share in good cheer.”

“Your granddaughter,” mused Wopsy, and a dreamy twinkle entered his eyes.

“Wopsy! Remember ALL of your resolutions!”