Why can't you just do what you're mother asks!?

In a manner of speaking this post is dedicated to my mother. Your mother too really. I'm sure at some point or another your mother as sighed deeply, looked you square in the eye (this move is to make you both freeful and listen) and then in a shouting hushed tone said, "It's not about liking everyone. Just get along with them anyway, or just get away from them."

This was my mother mantra to me growing up. You don't have to like everyone, but by god as my witness you will smile, and no be rude back. Worse yet was when fights were broken up, the good kind (such as me winning) "Just get along, or I will whip you!" That's right mom! That will teach love for our fellow man alright. haha.

Sometime in childhood we don't think much of why everyonew is different. We make little comments which can be rather embarassing. My neice once pointed and shouted, "Look that man is brown. Why aren't we brown too? How did he get that way?" Sick dread on the uplook only to find he was laughing. Ah kids these days, they sure know there colors at younger and younger ages.

But that really is the thing. In young childrens eyes that all it is a color, a shape, there is no hatred in their voices when they say the things they do. Just the things they see. All of that comes later. In things they hear, things they are taught. If everyone listened to their mothers when their mothers told them, "Treat others the way you want to be treated." would the world be in such a state of mass confusion, fear, and hate?

Oh the world is not all bad, and I don't think that no one listened, but why does each generation look on and say "One day. One day it will get better." Why not now? Does your god tell you to love your fellow man? Does he tell you to do you best? Do you not believe? Do you believe in moral rights? Do you do what's right even when no one is looking? But enough of all that, and yet mre of all that.

The Lorax - By Dr Seuss

At the far end of town, where the Grickle-grass growsand the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blowsand no birds ever sing excepting old crows...is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.
And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,if you look deep enough you can still see, today,where the Lorax once stood, just as long as it couldbefore somebody lifted the Lorax away.
What WAS the Lorax? And why was it there?And why was it lifted and taken somewherefrom the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?The old Once-ler still lives here.Ask him. HE knows.You wont see the Once-ler. Dont knock at his door.He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store.He lurks in his Lerkim, cold under the roof,where he makes his own clothesout of miff-muffered moof.And on special dank midnights in August,he peeks out of the shuttersand sometimes he speaksand tells how the Lorax was lifted away.
He'll tell you, perhaps...if you're willing to pay.On the end of a rope he lets down a tin pailand you have to toss in fifteen cents and a nailand the shell of a great-great-greatgrandfather snail.
He pulls up the pail,makes a most careful countto see if you've paid him the proper amount.
Then he hides what you pay himaway in his Snuvv,his secret strange hole in his gruvvulous glove.
Then he grunts, "I will call you by Whisper-ma-Phone,for the secrets I tell are for your ears alone."
"SLUPP!"Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your earand the Once-ler's whispers are not very clear,since they have to come downthrough a snergelly hose,and he sounds as if he hadsmallish bees up his nose.
"Now I'll tell you," he says, with his teeth sounding gray,"how the Lorax got lifted and taken away...It all started back...such a long, long time back...
Way back in the days when the grass was still greenand the pond was still wetand the clouds were still cleanand the song of the Swomee-Swans rand out into space...one morning, I came to this glorious place.And I first saw the trees!The Truffula Trees!The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula trees!Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze.
And, under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-lootsfrisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suitsas they played in the shade and ate Truffula Fruits.
From the rippulous pondcame the comfortable soundof the Humming-Fish hummingwhile splashing around.
But those TREES! Those TREES!THOSE TRUFFULA TREES!All my life I've been searchingfor trees such as these.The touch of their tufts was much softer than silkAnd they had the sweet smell Of fresh butterfly milk.
I felt a great leaping of joy in my heart.I knew just what I'd do!I unloaded my cart.
In no time at all, I had built a small shop.Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop.And with great skillful skill and with great speedy speed,I took the soft tuft. And I knitted a Thneed!
The instant I'd finished, I heard a GA-ZUMP!I looked.I saw something pop out of the stumpof the tree I'd chopped down. It was sort of a man.Describe him?...That's hard. I don't know if I can.
He was shortish. And oldish.And brownish. And mossy.And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy.
"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze,"I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.And I'm asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs"--he was very upset as he shouted and puffed--"What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"
"Look, Lorax," I said. "There's no call for alarm.I chopped just one tree. I am doing no harm.I'm being quite useful. This thing is a Thneed.A Thneed's a Fine-Something-That-All-People-Need!It's a shirt. It's a sock. It's a glove. It's a hat.But it has OTHER uses. Yes, far beyond that.You can use it for carpets. For pillows! For sheets!Or curtains! Or covers for bicycle seats!"
The Lorax said,"Sir! You are crazy with greed.There is no one on earthwho would buy that fool Thneed!"
But the very next minute I proved he was wrong.For, just at that minute, a chap came along,and he thought that the Thneed I had knitted was great.He happily bought it for three ninEty-eight
I laughed at the Lorax, "You poor stupid guy!You never can tell what some people will buy."
"I repeat," cried the Lorax,"I speak for the trees!"
"I'm busy," I told him."Shut up, if you please."
I rushed 'cross the room, and in no time at all,built a radio-phone. I put in a quick call.
I called all my brothers and uncles and auntsand I said, "Listen here! Here's a wonderful chancefor the whole Once-ler Family to get mighty rich!Get over here fast! Take the road to North Nitch.Turn left at Weehawken. Sharp right at South Stitch."
And, in no time at all, in the factory i built,the whole Once-ler Family was working full tilt.We were all knitting Thneeds just as busy as bees,to the sound of the chopping of Truffula Trees.
Then..Oh! Baby! Oh!How my business did grow!Now, chopping one treeat a time was too slow.
So I quickly invented my Super-Axe-Hackerwhich whacked off four Tuffula Trees at one smacker.We were making Thneedsfour times as fast as before!And that Lorax?...HE didn't show up anymore.
But the next weekhe knocked on my new office door.
He snapped, "I'm the Lorax who speaks for the treeswhich you seem to be chopping as fast as you please.But I'm ALSO in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-lootswho played in the shade in their Bar-ba-loot suitsand happily lived, eating Truffula Friuts.
"NOW...thanks to your hacking my trees to the ground,there's not enough Truffula Fruit to go 'round.And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummiesbecause they have gas, and no food, in their tummies!
"They loved living here. But I can't let them stay.They'll have to find food. And I hope that they may.Good luck, boys," he cried. And he sent them away.
I, the Once-ler, felt sadas I watched them all go.BUT...business is businessAnd business must growregardless of crummies in tummies, you know.
I meant no harm. I most truly did not.But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I got.
I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads.I biggered my wagons. I biggered the loads of the Theends I shipped out. I was shipping them forth to the South! To the East! To the West! To the North!I went right on biggering...selling more Thneeds.And I biggered my money, which everyone needs.
Then AGAIN he came back! I was fixing some pipeswhen that old-nuicence Lorax came back with MORE gripes.
"I am the Lorax," he coughed and he whiffed.He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed."Once-ler!" he cried with a cruffulous croak."Once-ler! You're making a smogulous smoke!My poor Swomee-Swans...why, they can't sing a note!No one can sing who has smog in his throat.
"And so," said the Lorax,"--please pardon my cough--they cannot live here.So I'm sending them off.
"Where will they go now?... I dont hopefully know.They may have to fly for a month...or a year...To escape from the smog you've smogged-up around here.
"What's more," snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.)"Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp.Your machinery chugs on, day and night without stopmaking Gluppity-Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp.And what do you do with this leftover goo?I'll show you, you dirty old Once-ler man, you!
You're Glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed.So, I'm sending them off. Oh, thier future is dreary.They'll walk on their fins and get woefully wearyin search of some water that isn't so smeary."
And then I got mad.I got terribly mad.I yelled at the Lorax, "Now listen here, Dad!All you do is yap-yap and say 'Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!"Well, I have my rights, sir, and I;m telling YOUI intend to go on doing just what I do!And, for your information, you Lorax, I'm figgeringon biggering,and Biggeringand BIGGERINGand BIGGERING,turning MORE Truffula Trees into Thneedswhich everyone, EVERYONE, EVERYONE needs!"
And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack!From outside in the fields came a sickening smackof an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree fall.The very last Tuffula Tree of them all!
No more trees. No more Thneeds. No more work to be done.So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one,all waved good-bye. They jumped into my carsand drove away under the smoke (or smog)-smuggered stars.
Now all that was left 'neath the bad-smelling skywas my big empty factory...the Lorax...and I.
The Lorax said nothing. Just gave me a glance...just gave me a very sad, sad backward glance...as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants.
And I'll never forget the grim look on his facewhen he heisted himself and took leave of this place,through a hole in the smog, without leaving a trace.
And all that the Lorax left here in this messwas a smaLl pile of rocks, with one word... "UNLESS."Whatever THAT meant, well, I couldn't guess.
That was long, long ago.But each day since that dayI've sat here and worried and worried away.Through the years, while my buildings have fallen apart,I've worried about it with all of my heart.
"But NOW," says the Once-ler,"Now that YOU'RE here,the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear.
UNLESS someone like youcares a whole awful lot,nothing is going to get better.It's not.
"SO...Catch!" calls the Once-ler.He lets something fall."Its a Truffula Seed.It's the last one of all!
You're in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds.And Truffula Trees are what everyone needs.Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care.Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air.Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack.Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back."

Now go do what your mother said!