User blog comment:Lightning2315/Cracked./@comment-995908-20110914201514

Everyone, I've got a story that I believe has a lot to do with this current situation. *clears throat*

It's called "The Ugly Barnacle".

There once was an ugly barnacle. He was sooo ugly, that everyone died. The end.

.......dammit, that's not the right story! [shuffles through some papers] Where is it, where is it...ah-ha! Here it is!

It's called "The Little Red Hen".

Once upon a time there was a little red hen. She lived with a pig, a duck and a cat. They all lived in a pretty little house which the little red hen liked to keep clean and tidy. The little red hen worked hard at her jobs all day. The others never helped. Although they said they meant to, they were all far too lazy. The pig liked to grunt in the mud outside, the duck used to swim in the pond all day, and the cat enjoyed lying in the sun, purring. One day the little red hen was working in the garden when she found a grain of corn. "Who will plant this grain of corn?" she asked. "Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden. "Not I," quacked the duck from her pond. "Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun. So the little red hen went to look for a nice bit of earth, scratched it with her feet and planted the grain of corn. During the summer the grain of corn grew. First it grew into a tall green stalk, then it ripened in the sun until it had turned a lovely golden colour. The little red hen saw that the corn was ready for cutting. "Who will help me cut the corn?" asked the little red hen. "Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden. "Not I," quacked the duck from her pond. "Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun. "Very well then, I will cut it myself," said the little red hen. Carefully she cut the stalk and took out all the grains of corn from the husks. "Who will take the corn to the mill, so that it can be ground into flour?" asked the little red hen. "Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden. "Not I," quacked the duck from her pond. "Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun. So the little red hen took the corn to the mill herself, and asked the miller if he would be so kind as to grind it into flour. In time the miller sent a little bag of flour down to the house where the little red hen lived with the pig and the duck and the cat. "Who will help me to make the flour into bread?" asked the little red hen. "Not I," grunted the pig from his muddy patch in the garden. "Not I," quacked the duck from her pond. "Not I," purred the cat from his place in the sun. "Very well," said the little red hen. "I shall make the bread myself." She went into her neat little kitchen. She mixed the flour into dough. She kneaded the dough and put it into the oven to bake. Soon there was a lovely smell of hot fresh bread. It filled all the corners of the house and wafted out into the garden. The pig came into the kitchen from his muddy patch in the garden, the duck came in from the pond and the cat left his place in the sun. When the little red hen opened the oven door the dough had risen up and had turned into the nicest, most delicious looking loaf of bread any of them had seen. "Who is going to eat this bread?" asked the little red hen. "I will," grunted the pig. "I will," quacked the duck. "I will," purred the cat. "Oh no, you won't," said the little red hen. "I planted the seed, I cut the corn, I took it to the mill to be made into flour, and I made the bread, all by myself. I shall now eat the loaf all by myself." The pig, the duck and the cat all stood and watched as the little red hen ate the loaf all by herself. It was delicious and she enjoyed it, right to the very last crumb.

Now, think about that story (not the ugly barnacle one). It sure fits, don't it?