WARM Friday greetings, Indigenous Earthlings. And that's what we are. Why can’t we all
get along?At a time when the movement seems to be toward fractionalizing of the world's peoples, I sought to find a description of the human race that would remind us that we are all but an exotic strain of mold slowly covering an average planet in an average solar system in a presumably average galaxy. And that galaxy, no doubt, will turn out to be just one atom in a gigantic something-or-other, like a baby's diaper that is a zillion light years across. And I'll tell you one thing, I'm not changing it -- the diaper, that is.
And one day, maybe on the summer solstice or on Carl Sagan's birthday, some enormous cosmic scientist being will peer into a fantastic microscope and discover the Earth, which will appear as a microspeck, and the Hubble Telescope will take a picture of a giant eyeball. The space scientist would have to be very, very big, even bigger than Ernest Borgnine's butt, and he'd turn to his fellow scientists and announce, "I've discovered a teeny planet on this shred of diaper." There would be general merriment and congratulations all around and then someone would suggest a closer look to see if there was any life on the planet. The scientist would look again and say, "Yes, there seems to be something moving around down there. I don't know what they are, but they're fighting." About that time, the Johnson Space Flight Center will direct the Hubble to fire a "Laser of Greeting" at the giant eyeball, which will cause the cosmic scientist to stagger backward, holding his eye, tipping over the microscope and plunging the diaper bit, Earth attached, into one of those dirty laboratory sinks you see on TV.
A sorry scenario, granted. But as a cautionary tale, I believe it holds as much water as all the horrible predictions of the end of Earth tossed out by environmentalists who say that because of the destruction of the ozone we are all going to fry like bacon strips.
THE point is that we just have to quit breaking ourselves down into smaller and smaller warring segments, and I'm not just talking about Hutus vs. Tutsis, Catholics vs. Protestants, Jews vs. Arabs and PC users vs. Mac owners. It is getting so bad that not only is the Hawaiian movement fragmented, but now even that one coherent molecule of special interest -- the Bishop Estate -- is dividing into battling factions. As much as I enjoy the entertainment value of such a division, it shows just how crazy this whole thing is getting.
I know, this is quite a buildup to get to the topic of what's happening with the Bishop Estate, but you have to admit it provides some context. In other words, it's not that big of a deal that the trustees refuse to meet with disgruntled parents, alumni and teachers about The Kamehameha Schools. It's embarrassing and silly, but it's no big deal.
You'd think that after all the years of court-appointed masters reviewing the estate's operation, that with five of the highest-paid executives in the state at the helm, and the constant overview of the attorney general's office, the Bishop Estate would have some coherent overall plan as to how the operation should be run.
Imagine someone getting elected to the board of directors of a major corporation and simply deciding, "You know, I'm going to take control of the Widget Polishing Division." And there is no CEO there to shoo her off to a golf course or explain to her that there is a well-thought-out master plan for running the operation that does not allow board members to act merely on personal whim.
So, despite the millions of dollars squandered on a make-believe organizational plan, Bishop Estate remains an overcapitalized personality cult. It may be embarrassing and silly, but it isn't the end of the world.