More Vonnegut...
I've also been hearing a little of this Ant and the Grasshopper analogy for why we shouldn't have compassion for New Orleans' poor. I thought as long as Vonnegut was doing such a great job of explaining the nature of things, I'd let him have another go at it...again from "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater":
(from a conversation between Sylvia Rosewater and her father-in-law, the Senator...The Senator starts...)
"My son doesn't deserve a decent woman. He deserves what he's got, the sniveling camaraderie of whores, malingerers pimps and thieves."
"They're not that bad, Father Rosewater."
"As I understand it, that's their chief appel to Eliot, that there's absolutely nothing good about them."
Sylvia, with two nervous breakdowns behind her, and no well-formed dreams before her, said quietly, just as her doctor would have wanted her to, " I don't want to argue."
"You still *could* argue on Eliot's behalf?"
"Yes. If I don't make anything else clear tonight, at least let me make that clear: Eliot is right to do what he's doing. It's beautiful what he's doing. I'm simply not strong enough or good enough to be by his side any more. The fault is mine."
Pained mystification, and then helplessness, suffused the Senator's face. "Tell me one good thing aboutthose people Eliot helps."
"I can't."
"I thought not."
"It's a secret thing," she said, forced to argue, pleading for the argument to stop right there.
Without any notion of how merciless he was being, the Senator pressed on. " You're among friends now --suppose you tell us what this great secret is."
"The secret is that they're human," said Sylvia. She looked from face to face for some flicker of understanding. There was none.
(from a conversation between Sylvia Rosewater and her father-in-law, the Senator...The Senator starts...)
"My son doesn't deserve a decent woman. He deserves what he's got, the sniveling camaraderie of whores, malingerers pimps and thieves."
"They're not that bad, Father Rosewater."
"As I understand it, that's their chief appel to Eliot, that there's absolutely nothing good about them."
Sylvia, with two nervous breakdowns behind her, and no well-formed dreams before her, said quietly, just as her doctor would have wanted her to, " I don't want to argue."
"You still *could* argue on Eliot's behalf?"
"Yes. If I don't make anything else clear tonight, at least let me make that clear: Eliot is right to do what he's doing. It's beautiful what he's doing. I'm simply not strong enough or good enough to be by his side any more. The fault is mine."
Pained mystification, and then helplessness, suffused the Senator's face. "Tell me one good thing aboutthose people Eliot helps."
"I can't."
"I thought not."
"It's a secret thing," she said, forced to argue, pleading for the argument to stop right there.
Without any notion of how merciless he was being, the Senator pressed on. " You're among friends now --suppose you tell us what this great secret is."
"The secret is that they're human," said Sylvia. She looked from face to face for some flicker of understanding. There was none.