Part 1 of 3 (continued in post below)
Once there was a little girl who reached adulthood and had to leave her small village to make her way in the big world. Now, in the country she lived
in, there were two cities, Leftville and Righton. Most people wanting to make their way in the world ended up in one of the two cities, because cities
are where the action is, as everyone knows. So the girl started to do a little research so she could decide which to live in. The information was so
conflicting and contradictory, though, that she couldn’t make up her mind. She asked the people in her village which was better, but everyone had a
different opinion— so much so that it seemed to the girl at times as though people were talking about entirely different places. Throwing up her
hands at last, she decided to go visit them both and see for herself.
The day she set out was a sunny one, full of hope and promise. The first stop for her would be Leftville. She crested a ridge and came upon the
sprawling metropolis, bigger than anything she’d ever seen before. She approached the city gates and asked the guard: “Is Leftville a good place
for a girl looking to make her way in the world?”
The guard replied, “Oh yes, absolutely! This is where you want to be, without a doubt. First of all you are young, and Leftville has traditionally
been a city of the young. Second you are a woman, and Leftville is a champion of women and other traditionally marginalized groups. Come right in,
your future awaits!” And he opened the gates.
The girl entered and couldn’t believe all the sights, sounds, and smells that hit her. Leftville was certainly full of colorful characters like
she’d never seen before: Long-haired men, short-haired women, and all manner of beings of seemingly indeterminate gender bustled here and there.
There were plenty of smiles, and good music wafted on the breeze. As she walked through the city, she saw much to admire: The people here were readers
and scholars, lovers of theory, and their leaders spent their days spinning beautiful intellectual webs high above the town in gleaming, remote ivory
towers. The city was full of art, music, and excellent cooking. People were always friendly and seemed to cooperate well with each other. They also
seemed to really enjoy life.The girl was charmed. Perhaps this is my new home, she thought.
But as the days went by, the girl discovered some less-than-favorable facts about Leftville. She began to notice how shabby and ramshackle everything
was. The buildings were run-down, the streets were full of garbage and potholes, and everything seemed perpetually worn out and useless. This was
because there was no private property in Leftville, so everyone shared everything…and consequently nobody took care of things properly…it was
somehow always mysteriously “somebody else’s job.” The work available was, in fact, uninspiring, and the girl thought it was unfair that
everyone on a given work team got paid the same…even though a lot of people ended up loafing around. Then she started to get a sense of how
Leftville was run. If you wanted anything “nice,” you had to use the black market, which was always choc-a-bloc with people standing in long
lines. The rulers of Leftville seemed an odd bunch: The intellectuals presided in their lofty ivory towers, but they seldom deigned to descend to
street level, where packs of thugs called “labor muscle” or “community patrols” seemed to rule the roost. But these groups had to be bribed to
do anything, and were incredibly corrupt. Worst of all, despite the love of books and learning she’d been so thrilled with at first, Leftville was
very closed-minded in some ways. People were super-sensitive about using certain words, for example, and would completely freak out if you happened to
use the wrong one. She later learned this habit was called “political correctness,” but she never came to understand it—only that it seemed
creepy and mentally repressive somehow, and was wielded as weapon by angry people who were trying to make her feel guilty for all sorts of things
she’d never done. Finally, despairing of finding a clean shower and a lice-free bed, she threw up her hands and left the city.
edit on 13-11-2011 by Partygirl because: (no reason given)