> The frog in the pond uttereth an azure cry. For behold, is not the
> turtle more round and better protected than the low and whining
> earthworm? Yet the frog is not so round as a hedgehog, nor yet doth it
> cry so bluely, no matter whereupon those matters rest. Yet back in the
> pond, the turtle espies the frog, yet it envieth it not, nor yet doth
> it make a pass at it; for doth not the Master of Ponds provide equally
> for both frog and turtle, no matter what color either of them doth cry?
> Still, when all is said and done, the earthworm would rather be a
> hedgehog than a frog would wish to be a turtle.
>
> Neither is this a surprise, according to Aristotle, for whom all things
> were square and azure. For behold! In the distance I see a frog, and
> up closer I see a turtle. Such things are seen by me, and, even, by
> such men as Aristotle and by such woman as Joan of Arc. Yes, and even
> by such computer geeks as T*d K*ld*s. For behold! there is no justice
> in the pond, save the simple justice of frog and turtle, of duck and
> water-weed, and truly there is much happiness in this, for if the
> Supreme Court were in the pond, there would be little happiness for
> either frog or turtle, duck or weed, or even Justice Sandra Day
> O'Connor who happens to be the best swimmer on the Supreme Court,
> because if she were to be in the pond, she would be wearing her robes.
>
> Yet in the face of this, we cannot help but discover another frog,
> perhaps a frog of justice, perhaps a frog of simple malice. The second
> frog exists; this much we cannot deny. It has green skin with little
> black spots. It lives and breathes, it catches flies just like the
> first frog. Yet it is different. Perhaps it is a frog of joy, perhaps
> it is a frog of cole slaw. One cannot tell by looking. One cannot ask
> the first frog, for this is the second frog and it is different. One
> cannot ask the turtle, for the turtle goes with the first frog. One
> cannot ask Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, because she has gotten out of
> the pond and gone behind the barn to dry off and garb herself anew in
> the robes of the Supreme Court.
>
> Yet for this frog, is there a turtle? We seek high, we seek low, but
> do we seek in the reeds and shoots at the side of the pond, where such
> a turtle would live if it were there? Nay, we seek there not. For in
> the reeds and shoots there might live a snake, a serpent, and perhaps
> we are scared of snakes. Perhaps they place into us some primordeal
> fear. Perhaps we are afraid that the snake will bite us. Perhaps we
> are afraid that the snake will crush us in its coils. Perhaps we are
> afraid that the snake will hire Justice Sandra Day O'Connor to sue our
> pants off. These are fearsome thoughs, and, though we seek a turtle
> for the second frog, we shall not seek there.
>
> The time of the second frog is not yet come, so we may rest and wait.
> But behind it is there a third frog? Has that frog a turtle of its
> own? Shall I go and dance in the woods tonight? The answers are
> unknown, and perhaps unknowable. But underneath the pond, the
> earthworm is awake and sleeping, and behind in its schedule of
> programming. In the sky overhead, the feet twinkle merrily; in the
> language of the blind, the one-eyed man is King Kong. In the pond, the
> frog and the turtle pay little heed to these bewilderisms; they are
> happy with their simple justice, their complex patterns of vortices,
> and the essential reunification of East and West Germany. For what is
> the true meaning of frog and turtle, of Germany and Sandra Day
> O'Connor?
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