why he or she doesn't just quit, instead of carrying on drawing the pay while telling us all how awful it is?
Someone once told me, ONB, that a true socialist will fight to the death to modify his working environment to suit himself rather than morph to the space available. Simplistic, yes, but a reasonable analysis of our callow Aloue who regularly falls over himself to shout from the rooftops just how dreadful Ryanair is. The poor chap must be hyperventilating with apoplectic joy at our recent legal speed hump. Oh well, a good mood is such a fragile thing, and who am I to spoilt it for him.
He's not alone in his delight, though, and such
base pleasure from so admired an adversary too. Dear oh dear.
Leo, Leo, wherefore art thou Leo?
Never
too far away, Minuteman, rest assured. Most unbecoming of you to gloat, though, and over such small beer too. To take you up on your Shakespearean affectation, though, I wondered how I might gently remind you of the dangers of gloating. Aaron seems to do the trick, if you know your Titus Andronicus. He, too, was gloating in his own villainy, Minuteman, but was rather more machiavellian than your good self, in my estimation at least. Aaron, rest assured, was planing rape too, though. He of Levinia, you of Ryanair. He was motivated by his love of Tamora. What motivates you to rape, Minuteman? Perhaps a clue lies in Canto 13 in the Hell of Danté, as distinct from the hell of IALPA, which is proving somewhat more expensive.
The harlot, who ne'er turn'd her gloating eyes
From Caesar's household, common vice and pest
Of courts, 'gainst me inflam'd the minds of all;
And to Augustus they so spread the flame,
That my glad honours chang'd to bitter woes.
My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought
Refuge in death from scorn, and I became,
Just as I was, unjust toward myself.
By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear,
That never faith I broke to my liege lord,
Who merited such honour; and of you,
If any to the world indeed return,
Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies
Yet prostrate under envy's cruel blow.”
Like all enduring long term relationships, Minuteman, we know by now how to push each other's buttons. Lets not bother, though, until the real game's afoot and as you and I will both no doubt agree, its some way off yet. Happy summer to you, old friend.