A Word on Human Nature

I am fresh after seeing the drama by F. Durrenmatt "The Visit of the Old Lady". Its content in short: an old woman is offering a billion dollars to a fallen town. At that price, he wants to buy justice. He demands a lynching on his erstwhile lover. By fulfilling this condition, residents will be able to prosper well. due to failing to do so, he threatens to become even more miserable.

Art heroes rush their lives financially filthy, but in the name of expected prosperity, hide ad acta their scruples. All participants of this dilemma know what cost they will come out of poverty, but, after short-lived scruples and preventive fluctuations, regardless of the consequences, they willingly and easy decide to commit debauchery in the majesty of the law and from now on live with a cloth alternatively of a face.
* Oh, my God *
A second look at the problem in it allowed me to realize that the phenomena occurring before the first experience of the drama were enriched with learning from current experiences. Lessons learned from this teaching.

In this message there is nothing original; most people realize that as they gain experience, they grow a tree of wisdom. I'm intrigued by the crime machine. My question is: why, erstwhile we have a choice between decency and money, most of us choose money?
* Oh, my God *
Ever since I've been dealing with this best fall of tears, I have frequently been convinced that speaking about a man does not sound as arrogant as I wish. I am comforted to think that the past of historical turbulence has frequently proved that, as fear looks into their eyes, they revive social ties, they rekindle longing for real brotherhood, and that the binding of goals returns to mischievous graces.

It seems to us that erstwhile we're doomed to an empty fate, we can mobilize. Fight for his improvement. That, in the name of common sense, we can do noble things. Show discipline and responsibility.

But it only seems that way. Our concern and work is limited to our own navel. due to the fact that erstwhile fear passes away, the “unbreakable bonds” are broken. We're strangers again and unattached. Again, we have no common dreams, and it seems that we are connected by a boiler with tar, which looks forward to us and encourages blogging.