Post by TrashcanMan on Jul 24, 2005 8:56:41 GMT
I don't know the exact sayings (or anything about the song) but from what I've gathered, it's a bad idea to bite the hand that feeds.
I've been thinking about this.
A domesticated dog wouldn't be able to survive without the support of the master's Hand, therefore The Hand is kind. However, The Hand is also in control. The Hand can deny the dog it's sustenance, if it disobeyed. The Hand can be cruel.
What if that dog bit The Hand? What if the dog decided that it didn't need the support of it's God?
The Hand would lose it's control of the dog. It would see no further profit in keeping the dog, but it's sick sentimentality and false emotions wouldn't allow it to let go. The dog would die in it's cage.
As the dog starves to death, madness would overtake it. Doubts, sadness, false hope, hallucinations, every aspect of the dog's mind taking it's turn to surface, screaming, pounding behind the eyes of our rotting friend. In moments of clarity, the dog may realize that it made a mistake. For at least a moment, the dog may see that there is no such thing as freedom. The promises made by our masters, the kind touch we are accustomed to, the sense that we are worth something, are all lies, drilled into our skulls when we are young, trained to be nothing more than disillusioned slaves. But any coherent thoughts the dog may have will be quickly lost in the sea of feverish babbling of a brain that is slowly shutting down.
If the dog is lucky, it will die with the belief that it won.
I've been thinking about this.
A domesticated dog wouldn't be able to survive without the support of the master's Hand, therefore The Hand is kind. However, The Hand is also in control. The Hand can deny the dog it's sustenance, if it disobeyed. The Hand can be cruel.
What if that dog bit The Hand? What if the dog decided that it didn't need the support of it's God?
The Hand would lose it's control of the dog. It would see no further profit in keeping the dog, but it's sick sentimentality and false emotions wouldn't allow it to let go. The dog would die in it's cage.
As the dog starves to death, madness would overtake it. Doubts, sadness, false hope, hallucinations, every aspect of the dog's mind taking it's turn to surface, screaming, pounding behind the eyes of our rotting friend. In moments of clarity, the dog may realize that it made a mistake. For at least a moment, the dog may see that there is no such thing as freedom. The promises made by our masters, the kind touch we are accustomed to, the sense that we are worth something, are all lies, drilled into our skulls when we are young, trained to be nothing more than disillusioned slaves. But any coherent thoughts the dog may have will be quickly lost in the sea of feverish babbling of a brain that is slowly shutting down.
If the dog is lucky, it will die with the belief that it won.