Sometimes, the behavior of Mudcatters appalls me. We have a number of people who post here who may not fit into the conventional standards of human behavior. I think that psychologists might say that they suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. They may not fit into the conventions of behavior; but they're still human beings, and they still have worthwhile things to say. We do what we can to keep these people under control without smothering them, but that's not good enough for some Mudcatters. Sometimes, they gang up and repeatedly bully the individual until they drive that person away, tailing the poor scapegoat like a pack of hounds. Occasionally, the bullies act like they're the martyrs, that they're oppressed by the misfit. I find that hard to believe.


A Mudcatter sent me this in a personal message, and gave me permission to post it. I think it teaches a good lesson:

I see the thread "More than a little fed up" has disappeared. Too bad;
I was working on a long message that I meant to add to that thread. I
put so much work into it, I am reluctant to throw it away. Please read
this and tell me what you think I should do with it.
*
Here's a story I heard long ago. I'm retelling it from memory, so it's
probably not exactly the way I heard it:

A Zen master was sitting with his disciples, leading them in guided
meditation.

A bird flew in through an open window. Someone moved to shoo the bird
away, but this only frightened the bird, which then became
disoriented, and it was unable to find the window to fly out again. It
flew around vainly trying to escape, fluttering from one corner of the
room to the next, near the ceiling. Some of the disciples thought,
"This is disturbing our meditation. We ought to do something." So they
got up and tried to catch the bird. They failed to catch it, and only
made it more agitated. The poor bird flew around in a state of panic,
crashing into walls and furniture.

Finally the master said, "Everyone sit down and be quiet. Leave the
bird alone."

The disciples obeyed, reluctantly, because they couldn't believe they
were going to accomplish anything that day, due to the disturbance.

Exhausted, the bird landed on the back of a chair. It sat there
quietly for a while, and then flew to the top of a bookshelf. Then it
flew again and landed on the windowsill.

At this point, the master clapped his hands abruptly, and the bird
flew out the window and was not seen again.

[Then the master summed up the experience with some pithy comment, but
I am unable to remember what the comment was. I guess you'll have to
figure it out for yourself.]