"I live where ever I happen to be," replied the Man. "It cannot be
otherwise. I cannot live where I am not."
"What is your name?" asked the Census Taker.
"My name?" replied the Man.
"Yes, what are you called?"
"Oh, you mean what do others shout when they want my attention?"
"Ummm, I guess you could put it that way."
"Usually 'Dummy'" replied the Man, grinning.
"No, no, I mean by what name does the tax man call you?" Asked the
Census
Taker, careful to keep his very serious attitude.
"Um, youll have to ask him. I do not know."
"Let me see some ID."
"ID?"
"Yes, Identification! I want to see your Drivers License; your Social
Security card."
"I do not drive. What is a Social Security Card? Oh yes, I remember
now: you
mean that 'voluntary' system put in place by FDR. I didn't volunteer."
"You must have something to Identify you to the State? How does anyone
know
who you are?" Sputtered the Census Taker.
"Oh that is easy." Replied the Man, "I am me. Would you like a cup of
rosehip tea? Picked em right outside my door?"
"No thanks!" said the exasperated Census Taker trying to hold his
thought, "then who is this me to whom you refer?"
"Why, is that not obvious? It is I who stands before you, sir. How can
it be
otherwise?"
Suddenly the Census Taker visibly flinches as he realizes what the Man
is
saying to him. No longer certain of his mission, he turns and wanders
away
deep in thought. He returns to his office and sits at his desk.
"Where is your report?" his boss demands breaking into his reverie.
"There is nothing to report, sir."
"Did you not do your job today?"
"Explain to me exactly what you perceive my job to be." He says looking
up at his supervisor.
Ahgast at the man's audacity, the Supervisor says, "You know what it
is: You
are to account for all the people in your district."
"Why?" Asks the Census Taker.
"So we can get paid for them. The Federal Govt offers us money based
on how
many of them live here."
"Ahhh, so we are being paid for the number of cattle we have in our
herd?"
The Supervisor laughs, nervously. "I suppose you could put it that
way."
What other way would you put it?"
"none I guess but what difference does it make?"
"It means that we are OWNED. We are slaves." Said the Census Taker.
"No, no, only THEY are owned. We are the ones doing the Census Taking
here."
"Wait a minute: Are you on that list?"
"Well, yes, I suppose."
"Am I on their list?"
"Of course."
"Then you and I are owned and owning?"
"Well, isnt it better to be one of the keepers of the herd than the
herd
itself...ummm, even if we are all still owned? Can't beat the System,
after all."
"Perhaps you would be right if those were the only choices."
"What do you mean? Those ARE the only choices."
"No, theyre not. There is a third Alternative."
"And what might that be?
"I quit" said the Census Taker.
"You cant quit."
The Census Taker tosses his drivers license and SS card on the desk. "I
quit," he repeats.
"But you have to have ID or they will arrest you.
"I have ID, he laughs.
"Where, what? sputters the Supervisor.
"I'm me he says, Im just me and he leaves.

The Supervisor returns to his office pondering what was just said.
Suddenly a visible quiver runs through him. He picks up the phone and calls the
District Manager: "I quit, he says.
"Whadda ya mean: you quit?" asks the Manager.
"I will not support a system that creates fictional people out of paper
and then demands that they live as the papers say. I am not a fiction and
neither are you, Sir. We are real, in the flesh beings with real, in
the spirit Minds. We have the right to make mistakes and to grow without
the interference of the State. It is ONLY the pressure put on us by the
State through the application of FEAR that causes us to do the harm the State
incarcerates us for. I will no longer participate" He hangs up the phone.

On the other end of the dead line, a decided shiver moves up the spine
of  the Manager. He sits for a long time at his desk before he calls his
boss at
the IRS: "I quit" he says. I'm leaving now."

"I'll have you audited!" screams the tiny mind of hate at the other
end
He laughs. "I'll save you the trouble: 10 fingers; 10 toes; 2 eyes; 2
legs;
2 arms; one spleen; one gizzard; one head; ALL Heart. Bye now."

The tiny mind of hate at the other end removes the gun from his top
drawer
and shoots himself in the head.

 

Moral: Negativity is self-consuming. If
you
dont grow, you die.

Watch closely while 'THEY' all go up in smoke. What they have not told
us is
that the smoke 'they go up in' is from the LIGHT of our own Fire. 'Turn
on
your HeartLight. You KNOW where it is! It automatically provides light
for
your neighbor to light his own fire... WOW! How could it be any easier?

The en...er....Beginning