Contrasting Pinocchio

Now that Pinocchio is in office and cartoonists show his nose growing, here’s a tale about honesty to warm your Winter Solstice.

“I was tired after the journey and went to a cash-till. As I inserted my card, even before tapping in my code, money began flipping out of the distributor, loads and loads of it! Yippie! The Lottery! I quickly stuffed it in to my bag. Then began my own transaction and taking my cash and receipt, I walked away. It was hot, at least 22C and I was dressed for England, wearing a thick jumper and a winter coat. I was carrying a rucksack which also had shopping for the house would be empty of food. I was sweating like a piglet as I trudged off. It was a long road to the station. I caught the train and trudged towards the house, but half way there, I stopped to rest.

What had I done! I was a thief!”

At this point somebody interjected, “You did nothing wrong! The cash was yours to take.”

She said, “No. That was the bank’s money.”

“Rubbish, it was their fault it spewed out.”

We agreed with her and argued against him.

She continued, “Wracked with guilt, I ran back, clutching my heavy coat and jumper and weighed down by he rucksack in that Mediterranean heat. God was I boiling! I had to keep stopping to cool down and catch my breath, but the thought of the Police arriving to arrest me spurred me on. I was panicking! My image would be in their security cameras, they knew it was me who’d done that transaction. I had to hurry!”

He said, “Anyone could have taken it. I bet there were no cameras.”

“Terrified that I’d be met by cops, I speeded up. Back at the railway station, two guards walked down the platform, certain they were coming to get me, I looked away! Guilty as heck. But they walked past. By the time I got to the town I was in a right state, red faced, shivering with fear, convinced I was soon to be a criminal. The bank had closed. I rapped on the door. Nobody came so I thumped the window. Eventually somebody peered out and they looked worried. I waved my hands. Atman was called, he opened the door a tiny bit. With few words in the language, I stumbled to explain. He too looked worried. I waved the stolen money at him and pointed at the cash distributer, mimicked money flipping out. He caught on, nodded, opened the door full, took the cash and thanked me.”

I asked, “So did fear of being caught prompt your sudden honesty, rather than a moral stance?

“Both.”

And that’s what’s wrong with our political system. It’s neither. With flexible ‘morals’

We need a revolution which puts the Pinocchios in the dock, which makes them explain why they lied and then we should shove them in jail to pay for all the wrongs they’ve done. Boris and Trump, we hope you one day will fear what will come of you if we take power.