A fable, by way of advice

Once upon a time there was a little guy. And the guy published a little publication. And nobody much noticed the little publication.

One day the little guy made some remarks that annoyed some people who regarded themselves as big guys. The big guys started to make quite a big noise; after all, they were big guys and their ego did not allow them to be pinpricked by a little guy. The noise spread, and people who would never otherwise have, got to hear of the little guy.

Among the big guys was a wise little guy. The wise little guy started thinking about what he saw. And when he had done enough thinking, he went around the big guys and said to them: "you're not getting anywhere with this little guy."

So they began to ask him: "Do you have a better way?"

And the wise little guy answered: "I think I do."

And a great silence fell. And the little guy who had caused all the noise went back to his obscurity, untroubled by anyone.

And the moral of the fable is: big noise, big stupidity.

Ingratitude

I hope I have never been anything but scathing and unforgiving about Dan Brown's fraudulent novel The Da Vinci Code. Among other things I have repeatedly pointed out is the fact that it is wholly based on a bad cult book from the early eighties, The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, which I read at eighteen. What I did not know is that Brown had, among his other egregious sins of intellectual fraud, committed the one of ingratitude. This article appeared recently in London's Daily Telegraph. I especially appreciate the cynicism of the closing sentence.
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A drabble for Kenna Hijja

He's leaning against the battered wooden door of the Shrieking Shack and watches me approach with a barely suppressed smirk on his face. “Well, Dung,” he drawls, “have you got something for me?”
“Indeed I do, Mr.Malfoy.”
“Tell me, then, my dear fellow. Time is Essence of Dragon Heart, you know.”
“It’s only money to me, sir, only money. I do not have the ambition that is your prerogative.”
“Dear me, dear me. Mundungus Fletcher talks all posh. Aren’t you going to be chucked out of the East End for that?”
“Ah, bless yer, guv, where would a poor crook be wiv’out arf a dozen accents? Well, Mr. Malfoy, there is the certificate, and there is the solicitors’ report. You are the owner beyond a doubt.”
Malfoy flashes a satisfied smile. “I always knew that we were the legitimate owners. One of my less bright ancestors allowed himself to be stampeded out of the land, but, by the Dark Lord, it belongs to us!”
Meanwhile I'm counting the money.
I've cleared it all with old Dumbledore, of course. The land had been stripped bare of all its magical properties when its last owner had moved south from Whitby to London. All that was left was a considerable amount of undisturbed Transylvanian earth.

Another drabble for KH

So you want to go to Hogwarts? It’s a lonely old place, you know. Since they drove the dragon out, nobody much has anything to do with it. Yes, yes, I know I’m a chattering woman. Give me one second, would you? It ain’t the dragon. Even the other dragons disliked her, and helped the monks destroy her. You won’t find no dragons there, no, sirs and madam.
No, it’s just that nobody likes the place. Since the dragon died, good plants just don’t grow there. Good fat kale and barley like you get in Hogsmeade down the valley just won’t rise, and the cattle won’t eat the grass. Some people say it’s cursed, anyway, it’s empty.
I’m getting there, I’m getting there! Don’t push me. Well, see that hollow between the mountains? Yes, that one over there? That is the pass you want. Walk through that and you will in the Strath Hog, the Valley of Hog. And what would you want there, anyway?
Already gone! I knew it, I just knew it. No time to talk, no time to do anything, always rushing somewhere or other. Wizards, if I ever saw them. Two wizards and two witches. Going to the empty lands of Hogwarts? I wonder what two wizards and two witches want there.