The Tale of the Twelve Officers

[no country for old wainds]

The Tale of the Twelve Officers

Mark I. Vuletic

It was, of course, sad to hear that Ms. K had been slowly raped and murdered by a common thug over the course of one hour and fifty-five minutes; but when I found out that the ordeal had taken place in plain sight of twelve fully-armed off-duty police officers, who ignored her terrified cries for help, and instead just watched until the act was carried to its gruesome end, I found myself facing a personal crisis. You see, the officers had all been very close friends of mine, but now I found my trust in them shaken to its core. Fortunately, I was able to talk with them afterwards, and ask them how they could have stood by and done nothing when they could so easily have saved Ms. K.

"I thought about intervening," said the first officer, "but it occurred to me that it was obviously better for the murderer to be able to exercise his free will than to have it restricted. I deeply regret the choices he made, but that's the price of having a world with free agents. Would you rather everyone in the world were a robot? The attacker's choices certainly weren't in my control, so I can't be held responsible for his actions."

"Well," said the second officer, "my motivation was a little bit different. I was about to pull my gun on the murderer when I thought to myself, 'But wait, wouldn't this be a perfect opportunity for some unarmed bystander to exercise selfless heroism, should he chance to walk by? If I were to intervene all the time like I was just about to, then no one would ever be able to exercise such a virtue. In fact, everyone would probably become very spoiled and self-centered if I were to prevent every act of rape and murder.' So I backed off. It's unfortunate that no one actually showed up to heroically intervene, but that's the price of having a universe where people can display virtue and maturity. Would you rather the world were nothing but love, peace, and roses?"

"I didn't even consider stepping in," said the third officer. "I probably would have if I hadn't had so much experience of life as a whole, since Ms. K's rape and murder admittedly seems pretty horrible when taken in isolation. But when you put it into context with the rest of life, it actually adds to the overall beauty of the big picture. Ms. K.'s screams were like the discordant notes that make fine musical pieces better than they would have been had all the notes been flawless. In fact, I could scarcely keep from waving my hands around, imagining that I myself was conducting the delicious nuances of the orchestra."

"When I first arrived on the scene, I actually drew my gun and pointed it right at the rapist's head," confessed the fourth officer, with a very guilty look on his face. "I'm deeply ashamed I did that. Do you know how close I came to destroying all of the goodness in the world? I mean, we all know there can't be any good without evil. Fortunately, I remembered this just in time, and a wave of such strong nausea came over me when I realized what I had almost done, that it knocked me to my hands and knees. Man, was that a close one."

"Look, there's really no point in my trying to explain the details to you," said the fifth officer, who we had nicknamed 'Brainiac' because he had an encyclopedic knowledge of literally everything and an IQ way off the charts. "There's an excellent reason for why I did not intervene, but it's just way too complicated for you to understand, so I'm not even going to bother trying. I mean, you admit you are nowhere near as knowledgeable as I am, so what right do you have to judge? Just so there's no misunderstanding, though, let me point out that no one could care about Ms. K. more than I did, and that I am, in fact, a very good person. That settles that."

"I would have defended Ms. K," said the sixth officer, who was notoriously careful about staying out of the public eye, "but it simply was not feasible. You see, I want everyone to freely choose to believe in me. But if I were to step in every time someone was about to be raped or murdered, then the evidence would be so clear-cut that everyone would be forced to believe in me. Can you imagine a more diabolical infringement upon their free wills? Obviously, it was better for me to back off and let Ms. K be raped and murdered. Now everyone can freely choose to believe that there is this extraordinary cop out there who loves them like his own children."

"What are you complaining about?" exclaimed the seventh officer when I turned to him, his eyebrows shooting up in exasperated disbelief. "I just saved a woman from getting raped and murdered last week! Do I have to jump in every time I see something like that about to happen? I would say the fact that more women are not raped and murdered in this city is almost miraculous testimony to my goodness."

The eighth officer, too, looked frustrated. "Nothing I do is good enough! Do you know how much worse it could have been? The thug actually had a blowtorch with him when he started out, but I said 'No way, not on my watch,' and knocked it away from him with my nightstick. Sure, I let him keep the switchblade, the pliers, the coat hanger, and the vial of acid, but think how much worse it would have been with a blowtorch! Ms. K should have thanked her lucky stars that someone so loving was there to watch over her."

"I'll let you in on a secret," said the ninth officer."Moments after Ms. K. flatlined, I had her resuscitated, and flown to a tropical resort where she is now experiencing extraordinary bliss, and her ordeal is just a distant memory. I'm sure you would agree that that's more than adequate compensation for her suffering, so the fact that I just stood there watching instead of intervening has no bearing at all on my goodness."

The tenth officer gave us all quite a start when he revealed a surprising secret about Ms. K. "I genetically engineered her from scratch. I made her, therefore she's my property, and I can do whatever I want with her. I could rape and murder her myself if I were so inclined, and it would be no worse than you tearing up a piece of paper you own. So there is no question of my being a bad person for not helping her."

The eleventh officer chimed in, gesturing at the tenth officer "I hired him to create Ms. K for me, because I wanted someone to love and worship me. But when I approached Ms. K about the matter, she actually turned away from me, as though she could find meaning and happiness with someone else! So I decided the loving thing to do would be to break her spirit by arranging to have her raped and murdered by a common thug, so that she might turn to me in her extraordinary suffering, thereby fulfilling the purpose for which she had been created. Well, mission accomplished, I'm happy to say! A few seconds before she died, she was so insane with terror and pain that she actually convinced herself she loved me, since she knew that only I could end her ordeal. I'll never forget the love in her eyes when she looked up at me the last time, begging for mercy, right before the thug bent over and slit her throat. It was so beautiful it still brings me to tears. Now I just have to go to that island so she can claim her prize of servitude."

"Well, this is quite a coincidence," chuckled the twelfth officer. "It looks like the thug got himself double pay, because I actually hired him to carry out the murder, too! Why? Oh, well it was just a test. Ms. K and I had been dating for some time (no offense, I didn't know she was someone else's property), and one beautiful night she finally told me she loved me. So, naturally, I wanted to see whether this was indeed love - that is, whether she would continue to adore me even while drowning in a pool of her own tears and blood, with me standing before her doing nothing."

By now, it had become clear to me that any difficulty I might have had in reconciling the presumed goodness of the officers with their behavior that day was unfounded, and that anyone who sided against them could do so only for love of evil over good. After all, anyone who has experienced their friendship in the way I have knows that they are good. Their goodness is even manifest in my life - I was in a shambles before I met them, but now everyone remarks on what a changed person I am, so much kinder and happier, apparently possessed of an inner calm. And I have met so many others who feel exactly the same way about them - so many who, like me, know in their hearts the truth that others try to rationalize away with their cold reason and sterile logic. I am ashamed that I ever doubted the entitlement of the twelve officers to my loyalty and my love.

As I was getting ready to leave, the first officer spoke up again. "By the way, I also think you should know that when we stood there watching Ms. K. get raped and stabbed over and over, we were suffering along with her, and we experienced exactly the same pain she did, or perhaps even more." And everyone in the room, myself included, nodded his head in agreement.

This is a bit of a silly little parable if I may say so, but it might spark off some decent discussion. You can at least try ranking the officers from best to worst. I'll do that later.

 

[AsModEe]

Interesting read... makes you view the world differently, but I would rather keep my cold reason and dry logic to actually feel good in conscience. The worst is the third officer IMO, and the least worst is the ninth officer. By my morals, I also believe that the tenth officer is one of the worst, because he thought that by creating something, you can do whatever you want with that thing. This isn't entirely true, cause I believe there's responsibility over everything we own and create, especially if this thing is alive and has a conscience. Actually, I would add that a being with conscience shouldn't be "owned" by anyone. My 2 cents. I might give opinions about the others later.

 

[anonymousnick2001]

I read through them, all the while thinking there was something amiss about the testimonies, some tongue-in-cheek irony or something I was missing, because the responses were so clearly disturbing (especially #3 I agree). Only when I reached #11 did the parable make sense.

The best officer is the silent thirteenth, who stood watching as the rapist ran away from the crime scene, turned a corner and bumped into another rapist twice his size, who summarily served him an anal bronto burger. The officer then resuscitated Mrs. K. and did much of what #9 did, and smiled to himself as he knew the rapist would be left to die. If asked how and why, he would answer similarly to #5, without the blind arrogance and egotism.

 

[speed]

Maybe this says something about my world view, but I actually like the God that is #3 the most. Pure chaos.

 

[Kenneth R.]

i see them as satires on arguments people make in regards to religion/life in general.

they seem to take those points beyond extreme and twist the meaning somewhat, to the effect of creating a shocking response.

6 being the argument that God does not show himself outright or else faith would be unnecessary. however, it is a twisted example.

1's argument seems flawed to me. if the rapist had free will to choose to commit the crime, the officer has free will to stop him if he so chooses.

2 sounds very much "the strong prevail".

4 seems to to have twisted the argument of "you cannot know good without knowing evil"

5 is in my opinion an incredible fool. a pseudo intellectual.

7 is again a slam on what people say about God. the "he can't save everyone every time" argument

8 is quite bad, to diminish evil to a lesser evil but allow it to remain isn't destroying it.

9 plays on the idea of "heaven" and seems the least bad to me, but the method of its implementation (just standing there till she dies) doesn't fly.

10, 11, 12 all satire on creationism and influence.

3 seems by far the worst to me.

 

[speed]

3 is written to be a bit over the top, but I dont know, I still see it as the most relevant. At least it rejects the ideas of good and evil, and accepts only the beauty of chaos-- it sort of reminds me of nature in a strange sort of way. Im sure everyone has accepted this view sometime in their life. Dont we accept the killing of innocents and wars? We may morally and intellectually condemn them, but we still accept them as facts of life and existence. And by accept, I mean we do nothing more than watch and complain, not act.

 

[Kenneth R.]

actually i would not accept the killing of innocents as acceptable in any way at all and if there is action i can take to stop it, i sure as hell will.

and unlike you, i have not ever rejected the idea of good and evil.

 

[AsModEe]

This reminds me of Ciceron limitations of friendship. He said that if one of your friend does something non virtuous, it is your duty to stand against this friendship and use action to stop this ex-friend.

 

[speed]

This reminds me of Ciceron limitations of friendship. He said that if one of your friend does something non virtuous, it is your duty to stand against this friendship and use action to stop this ex-friend.

Yes and thats why he (Cicero) accepted the protection of his former ex friends repeatedly. Hypocrite.

 

[WarHammer]

3 is written to be a bit over the top, but I dont know, I still see it as the most relevant. At least it rejects the ideas of good and evil, and accepts only the beauty of chaos-- it sort of reminds me of nature in a strange sort of way. Im sure everyone has accepted this view sometime in their life. Dont we accept the killing of innocents and wars? We may morally and intellectually condemn them, but we still accept them as facts of life and existence. And by accept, I mean we do nothing more than watch and complain, not act.

This statement makes little sense to me. The only understandable aspect of chaos is its unreadable nature. Many say they wish for chaos, or that they admire it for specific reasons, which betrays its nature as chaos. No definition, just chaos. Its beauty must be an acquired taste, for if applied to a society, chaos breeds only death. Many would say that is not such a huge jump from what we have today, but I look at it differently. We fight wars as we always have, but conscience is being steadily injected into the hearts of our populace. I would ask you what your definition of "doing something" is. If you mean kill to stop killling, what have we proved? We have proved that by your view, death is the only way, which is exactly the attitude that spreads wars and the killing of innocents. I deplore senseless death and war to the ends of this earth, but what you must understand is all we have is our intellect. The only true way to transcend the unending chaos of our animal instincts to kill, destroy, and/or conquer is through superior intellect. Death, in a sense, is a natural part of life, but we should have the right to choose how and why it happens, which is why wars are allowed to occur to a degree, because the soldiers are willing to die for something they believe in. I don't, so I do not go to war. Innocents are killed because of the primitive intellect of others, but it all stems from your definition of innocence. I would say the best way to do something is to deplore it intellectually, with all your facts and arguments in order, so that less enlightened people might learn from your example. But I am in fact, human, and I can tell you if someone was being raped in front of me, I would do anything in my power to stop it. That I can promise.

 

[anonymousnick2001]

That last statement is intriguing in itself. If these parables reflect God, they are faulty. God is not held to the same standard as human beings, is He/She/It?

As humans, the officers should have been compelled to stop the rape, IMO.

I hope I didn't just open a can of worms.

 

[speed]

This statement makes little sense to me. The only understandable aspect of chaos is its unreadable nature. Many say they wish for chaos, or that they admire it for specific reasons, which betrays its nature as chaos. No definition, just chaos. Its beauty must be an acquired taste, for if applied to a society, chaos breeds only death. Many would say that is not such a huge jump from what we have today, but I look at it differently. We fight wars as we always have, but conscience is being steadily injected into the hearts of our populace. I would ask you what your definition of "doing something" is. If you mean kill to stop killling, what have we proved? We have proved that by your view, death is the only way, which is exactly the attitude that spreads wars and the killing of innocents. I deplore senseless death and war to the ends of this earth, but what you must understand is all we have is our intellect. The only true way to transcend the unending chaos of our animal instincts to kill, destroy, and/or conquer is through superior intellect. Death, in a sense, is a natural part of life, but we should have the right to choose how and why it happens, which is why wars are allowed to occur to a degree, because the soldiers are willing to die for something they believe in. I don't, so I do not go to war. Innocents are killed because of the primitive intellect of others, but it all stems from your definition of innocence. I would say the best way to do something is to deplore it intellectually, with all your facts and arguments in order, so that less enlightened people might learn from your example. But I am in fact, human, and I can tell you if someone was being raped in front of me, I would do anything in my power to stop it. That I can promise.

Well thought out. I agree, my yearnings are horrifically destructive; but, sometimes my intellect is my greatest enemy.

 

[speed]

And on another note, if these officers are to represent God's, and or creatures with some sort of omnitpotence, then clearly no 3 is the only relevant option. Nature (Or the real world) is a cruel beast who cares little for the sufferings of one poor wretch. Millions are raped every year, and how many go unpunished? We may have laws, spiritual laws, and societal standards we follow, but these are advisory in nature, and created to tame the natural monster in all of us--the no 3 in all of us. I should really quote some CIoran for this one.

 

[infoterror]

SHIP OF FOOLS
by Ted Kaczynski

Published by OFF! Magazine, a zine produced by students at SUNY Binghamton and edited by Tim La Pietra.

Once upon a time, the captain and the mates of a ship grew so vain of their seamanship, so full of hubris and so impressed with themselves, that they went mad. They turned the ship north and sailed until they met with icebergs and dangerous floes, and they kept sailing north into more and more perilous waters, solely in order to give themselves opportunities to perform ever-more-brilliant feats of seamanship.

As the ship reached higher and higher latitudes, the passengers and crew became increasingly uncomfortable. They began quarreling among themselves and complaining of the conditions under which they lived.

"Shiver me timbers," said an able seaman, "if this ain’t the worst voyage I’ve ever been on. The deck is slick with ice; when I’m on lookout the wind cuts through me jacket like a knife; every time I reef the foresail I blamed-near freeze me fingers; and all I get for it is a miserable five shillings a month!"

"You think you have it bad!" said a lady passenger. "I can’t sleep at night for the cold. Ladies on this ship don’t get as many blankets as the men. It isn’t fair!"

A Mexican sailor chimed in: "¡Chingado! I’m only getting half the wages of the Anglo seamen. We need plenty of food to keep us warm in this climate, and I’m not getting my share; the Anglos get more. And the worst of it is that the mates always give me orders in English instead of Spanish."

"I have more reason to complain than anybody," said an American Indian sailor. "If the palefaces hadn’t robbed me of my ancestral lands, I wouldn’t even be on this ship, here among the icebergs and arctic winds. I would just be paddling a canoe on a nice, placid lake. I deserve compensation. At the very least, the captain should let me run a crap game so that I can make some money."

The bosun spoke up: "Yesterday the first mate called me a ‘fruit’ just because I suck cocks. I have a right to suck cocks without being called names for it!"

It’s not only humans who are mistreated on this ship," interjected an animal-lover among the passengers, her voice quivering with indignation. "Why, last week I saw the second mate kick the ship’s dog twice!"

One of the passengers was a college professor. Wringing his hands he exclaimed,

"All this is just awful! It’s immoral! It’s racism, sexism, speciesism, homophobia, and exploitation of the working class! It’s discrimination! We must have social justice: Equal wages for the Mexican sailor, higher wages for all sailors, compensation for the Indian, equal blankets for the ladies, a guaranteed right to suck cocks, and no more kicking the dog!"

"Yes, yes!" shouted the passengers. "Aye-aye!" shouted the crew. "It’s discrimination! We have to demand our rights!"

The cabin boy cleared his throat.

"Ahem. You all have good reasons to complain. But it seems to me that what we really have to do is get this ship turned around and headed back south, because if we keep going north we’re sure to be wrecked sooner or later, and then your wages, your blankets, and your right to suck cocks won’t do you any good, because we’ll all drown."

But no one paid any attention to him, because he was only the cabin boy.

The captain and the mates, from their station on the poop deck, had been watching and listening. Now they smiled and winked at one another, and at a gesture from the captain the third mate came down from the poop deck, sauntered over to where the passengers and crew were gathered, and shouldered his way in amongst them. He put a very serious expression on his face and spoke thusly:

"We officers have to admit that some really inexcusable things have been happening on this ship. We hadn’t realized how bad the situation was until we heard your complaints. We are men of good will and want to do right by you. But – well – the captain is rather conservative and set in his ways, and may have to be prodded a bit before he’ll make any substantial changes. My personal opinion is that if you protest vigorously – but always peacefully and without violating any of the ship’s rules – you would shake the captain out of his inertia and force him to address the problems of which you so justly complain."

Having said this, the third mate headed back toward the poop deck. As he went, the passengers and crew called after him, "Moderate! Reformer! Goody-liberal! Captain’s stooge!" But they nevertheless did as he said. They gathered in a body before the poop deck, shouted insults at the officers, and demanded their rights: "I want higher wages and better working conditions," cried the able seaman. "Equal blankets for women," cried the lady passenger. "I want to receive my orders in Spanish," cried the Mexican sailor. "I want the right to run a crap game," cried the Indian sailor. "I don’t want to be called a fruit," cried the bosun. "No more kicking the dog," cried the animal lover. "Revolution now," cried the professor.

The captain and the mates huddled together and conferred for several minutes, winking, nodding and smiling at one another all the while. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and, with a great show of benevolence, announced that the able seaman’s wages would be raised to six shillings a month; the Mexican sailor’s wages would be raised to two-thirds the wages of an Anglo seaman, and the order to reef the foresail would be given in Spanish; lady passengers would receive one more blanket; the Indian sailor would be allowed to run a crap game on Saturday nights; the bosun wouldn’t be called a fruit as long as he kept his cocksucking strictly private; and the dog wouldn’t be kicked unless he did something really naughty, such as stealing food from the galley.

The passengers and crew celebrated these concessions as a great victory, but the next morning, they were again feeling dissatisfied.

"Six shillings a month is a pittance, and I still freeze me fingers when I reef the foresail," grumbled the able seaman. "I’m still not getting the same wages as the Anglos, or enough food for this climate," said the Mexican sailor. "We women still don’t have enough blankets to keep us warm," said the lady passenger. The other crewmen and passengers voiced similar complaints, and the professor egged them on.

When they were done, the cabin boy spoke up – louder this time so that the others could not easily ignore him:

"It’s really terrible that the dog gets kicked for stealing a bit of bread from the galley, and that women don’t have equal blankets, and that the able seaman gets his fingers frozen; and I don’t see why the bosun shouldn’t suck cocks if he wants to. But look how thick the icebergs are now, and how the wind blows harder and harder! We’ve got to turn this ship back toward the south, because if we keep going north we’ll be wrecked and drowned."

"Oh yes," said the bosun, "It’s just so awful that we keep heading north. But why should I have to keep cocksucking in the closet? Why should I be called a fruit? Ain’t I as good as everyone else?"

"Sailing north is terrible," said the lady passenger. "But don’t you see? That’s exactly why women need more blankets to keep them warm. I demand equal blankets for women now!"

"It’s quite true," said the professor, "that sailing to the north imposes great hardships on all of us. But changing course toward the south would be unrealistic. You can’t turn back the clock. We must find a mature way of dealing with the situation."

"Look," said the cabin boy, "If we let those four madmen up on the poop deck have their way, we’ll all be drowned. If we ever get the ship out of danger, then we can worry about working conditions, blankets for women, and the right to suck cocks. But first we’ve got to get this vessel turned around. If a few of us get together, make a plan, and show some courage, we can save ourselves. It wouldn’t take many of us – six or eight would do. We could charge the poop, chuck those lunatics overboard, and turn the ship to the south."

The professor elevated his nose and said sternly, "I don’t believe in violence. It’s immoral."

"It’s unethical ever to use violence," said the bosun.

"I’m terrified of violence," said the lady passenger.

The captain and the mates had been watching and listening all the while. At a signal from the captain, the third mate stepped down to the main deck. He went about among the passengers and crew, telling them that there were still many problems on the ship.

"We have made much progress," he said, "But much remains to be done. Working conditions for the able seaman are still hard, the Mexican still isn’t getting the same wages as the Anglos, the women still don’t have quite as many blankets as the men, the Indian’s Saturday-night crap game is a paltry compensation for his lost lands, it’s unfair to the bosun that he has to keep his cocksucking in the closet, and the dog still gets kicked at times.

"I think the captain needs to be prodded again. It would help if you all would put on another protest – as long as it remains nonviolent."

As the third mate walked back toward the stern, the passengers and the crew shouted insults after him, but they nevertheless did what he said and gathered in front of the poop deck for another protest. They ranted and raved and brandished their fists, and they even threw a rotten egg at the captain (which he skillfully dodged).

After hearing their complaints, the captain and the mates huddled for a conference, during which they winked and grinned broadly at one another. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and announced that the able seaman would be given gloves to keep his fingers warm, the Mexican sailor would receive wages equal to three-fourths the wages of an Anglo seaman, the women would receive yet another blanket, the Indian sailor could run a crap game on Saturday and Sunday nights, the bosun would be allowed to suck cocks publicly after dark, and no one could kick the dog without special permission from the captain.

The passengers and crew were ecstatic over this great revolutionary victory, but by the next morning they were again feeling dissatisfied and began grumbling about the same old hardships.

The cabin boy this time was getting angry.

"You damn fools!" he shouted. "Don’t you see what the captain and the mates are doing? They’re keeping you occupied with your trivial grievances about blankets and wages and the dog being kicked so that you won’t think about what is really wrong with this ship --– that it’s getting farther and farther to the north and we’re all going to be drowned. If just a few of you would come to your senses, get together, and charge the poop deck, we could turn this ship around and save ourselves. But all you do is whine about petty little issues like working conditions and crap games and the right to suck cocks."

The passengers and the crew were incensed.

"Petty!!" cried the Mexican, "Do you think it’s reasonable that I get only three-fourths the wages of an Anglo sailor? Is that petty?

"How can you call my grievance trivial? shouted the bosun. "Don’t you know how humiliating it is to be called a fruit?"

"Kicking the dog is not a ‘petty little issue!’" screamed the animal-lover. "It’s heartless, cruel, and brutal!"

"Alright then," answered the cabin boy. "These issues are not petty and trivial. Kicking the dog is cruel and brutal and it is humiliating to be called a fruit. But in comparison to our real problem – in comparison to the fact that the ship is still heading north – your grievances are petty and trivial, because if we don’t get this ship turned around soon, we’re all going to drown.

"Fascist!" said the professor.

"Counterrevolutionary!" said the lady passenger. And all of the passengers and crew chimed in one after another, calling the cabin boy a fascist and a counterrevolutionary. They pushed him away and went back to grumbling about wages, and about blankets for women, and about the right to suck cocks, and about how the dog was treated. The ship kept sailing north, and after a while it was crushed between two icebergs and everyone drowned.

© Ted Kaczynski, 1999

 

[no country for old wainds]

Yeah, ship of fools is lovely.

 

[Mormagil]

But he's the Unabomber, so it's DERANGED RAMBLING.

 

[Kenneth R.]

initially i agreed with the cabin boy and the professor both, but i disagree with using violence.

suppose they kill the captain and the officers. who then would run the ship? who then would be giving orders, and who would be of rank? surely since these all disagree on other matters, they would still drown, unable to reform some form of order after said act. instead of waiting to die, they would be asking for its immediate occurance. that is the flaw in the tale.

if "sailing north" is progress and a departure from traditional and cultural values, while "turning back" is seen as a heroic return to roots, then violently murdering the officers and captain to usurp control will leave a hollow government on the ship. many crewmembers but no clear chain of command. it is indeed fascism that would take place, and like those fascist regimes of reality, they will quickly crumble unto their own hollow framework.

it is a flawed philosophy.

 

[Mormagil]

suppose they kill the captain and the officers. who then would run the ship? who then would be giving orders, and who would be of rank?

The officers and captain aren't really doing much; they're not irreplacable. If the crew could agree on what to do there would be no need for someone to give them orders from on high because they'd be able to formulate their own plan of action.

surely since these all disagree on other matters, they would still drown, unable to reform some form of order after said act. instead of waiting to die, they would be asking for its immediate occurance. that is the flaw in the tale.

That's why it's called the ship of fools...

 

[Kenneth R.]

The officers and captain aren't really doing much; they're not irreplacable. If the crew could agree on what to do there would be no need for someone to give them orders from on high because they'd be able to formulate their own plan of action.



That's why it's called the ship of fools...

yes, and given the conversational situations above, i doubt they would form that plan much as our current society is incapable of overthrowing its dictators.

 

[Mormagil]

As long as everyone prefers to fight over less important issues, yeah, you're right. But *if* they weren't complete morons they'd realize they have to cooperate in order to save their lives, and after that was accomplished they could sit down and iron out the details.