After much trial, as the little prince was so busy asking questions of his own, the misanthropic pilot finally learns why the little prince is in need of a sheep. Apparently, the asteroid on which he calls home is infected with the seeds of baobabs:
"Now there were some terrible seeds on the planet that was the home of the little prince; and these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of that planet was infested with them. A baobab is something you will never, never be able to get rid of if you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. It bores clear through it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and the baobabs are too many, they split it in pieces..."
"It is a question of discipline," the little prince said to me later on. "When you've finished your own toilet in the morning, then it is time to attend to the toilet of your planet, just so, with the greatest care. You must see to it that you pull up regularly all the baobabs, at the very first moment when they can be distinguished from the rosebushes which they resemble so closely in their earliest youth. It is very tedious work," the little prince added, "but very easy."
In a situation like that, I can certainly see why the little prince could benefit from having a sheep in a box.
Oh, if only we had been tending to our baobabs as diligently as the little prince suggests. Think about the problems we face now. Not one, but two corrupt political parties, each one more worthless than the other; a President-select who, with the aid of his corrupt party, violated all the rules of the social contract in order to secure his power, a man whose only consistency is to speak out of both sides of his face; a federal government that has been flagrantly operating in violation of the Constitution for years, without so much as a peep from the nation's sheep. And for all of the shouting, railing, and protesting by PUMAs in 2008, the best we can expect is to be watchful for the baobabs that sprout up now, removing them from the soil as quickly as possible, before they grow too large and rip us apart (start praying to whatever higher power you believe or don't believe in that it isn't too late). And that's not even talking about the sad state our planet is in at the moment.
But not all hope is lost. Even this misanthropic pilot holds out on hope; the hope that out there are those who can make good use of the sheep in the box, and who think beyond their own toilet. I know you're out there. You're a PUMA. You're a member of Team Sarah. You're awake and pacing the floor, stomping your feet, and shouting at the sky. You're a child who does not yet know how to ask. I know you're out there. For you people I will be writing next on tending to the rosesbushes.
By the way, the illustrations for my Little Prince series were all done by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I have lifted them, and the text I am using, from the Janusz Korczak Communications Website. I do not have permission, nor have I sought it, and will plead to any and all those who seek to rend from me what little I have in this world for violations of any copyright that might be held, that you keep in mind that the little prince is not of this world. He belongs to the universe, and I do not doubt that Monsieur de Saint-Exupery would feel the same. And I'm not making one frickin' dime off this blog. Should this situation change, and a deranged benefactor wishes to publish a book from the fount of wisdom that is my blog, I shall honor and seek to uphold any and all copyrights.