...when vegetables cry.
"Once upon a time there was a woman, and she was wicked as wicked could be, and she died. And not one good deed was left behind her. The devils took her and threw her into the lake of fire. And her guardian angel stood thinking: what good deed of hers can I remember to tell God? Then he remembered and said to God: once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar woman. And God answered: now take that same onion, hold it out to her in the lake, let her take hold of it, and pull, and if you pull her out of the lake she can go to paradise, but if the onion breaks, she can stay where she is. The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her: here, woman, he said, take hold of it and I'll pull. And he began pulling carefully, and had almost pulled her all the way out, when other sinners in the lake saw her being pulled out and all began holding on to her so as to be pulled out with her. But the woman was wicked as wicked could be, and she began to kick them with her feet: "It's me who's getting pulled out, not you; it's my onion, not yours." No sooner did she say it than the onion broke. And the woman fell back into the lake and is burning there to this day. And the angel wept and went away." - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (New York: FSG, 1990), 352.
Oh my onion. That was amazing. Great guest post. But what does this mean for democracy? Did the Democrats get pulled out of the pool of political sinners by an Obonion or will it break, leaving us all to languish in this liquid magma of a country? Someone once asked me what vegetable I would be if I were a vegetable, and without hesitation I said, "An onion." He said, "Mmm, sulfurous." I still cannot interpret my answer or his.
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