The Truth About Ruth

The King Pear complained yesterday about his team being called “ruthless.”  He claimed not to know what “ruth” is, and in the next breath claimed the Pears have lots of it.

The Commissioner’s Office mission statement includes “making sure all owners have the information they need to succeed, or at least come in second.”  The Pears clearly do not have that level of information. I’m not sure it’s the same level of information for everyone — perhaps the Pears need more than others.  At any rate, judging by the Pears’ EFL history, either having ruth is immaterial to success (or second place) in the EFL, or you have to have it AND you have to know what it is.

So I looked up the definition of “ruth” — which is clearly a thing.  Here it is, straight from the interwebs:

Wolverines ownership has ruth. Lots and lots of ruth. Here’s the proof of our ruth:

Last night I caught what I hope is the Last Mouse in our House in one of those sticky traps.  The problem is the mouse lives for a long time stuck on one of those traps, especially when you’ve put a dab of peanut butter there for its convenience. I thought about just leaving him there, but when I realized he was trying to chew the trap apart, which would end up with him getting his mouth stuck in the trap, I had compassion — I mean, ruth.

I even asked him if he’d been lonely lately. True, I was in part trying to get him to squeal on any other mice who might still be alive in our house, a thing he refused to do. But it did add to my ruth to consider what it might be like for a mouse when all his family members disappear one-by-one.

So next the mouse and I faced the problem of what to do, now that he was trapped.  I didn’t think I could detach him from the trap without dismembering him, or getting bitten.  And anyway, then what would I do? It wasn’t like I could count on him learning his lesson and moving out of our house — so I’d just have to trap him again.

I finally decided I had to end his misery quickly.  I know that decision was much easier for me than it was for him, but I was doing my best.  So I drowned him in a bucket of water.

Apparently he didn’t concur with the ruth of my decision, because he struggled frantically to get back to the surface. He was still stuck to the trap, which I’d pinned to the bottom with a heavy item.  I turned away — I was by that time so ruthful, I couldn’t watch his final moments. Later I gave him a solemn burial in the trash can.

Now, now, relax.  I’m not about to drown all my EFL competitors.  That’s not the lesson from this little story. You are not pooping all over my garage, for one thing, and if you want some of the food from our kitchen or our trash cans, you can just ask and I’ll give you some.

The lesson is: ruth is a good thing.  Having it is good, and knowing what it is is good, and having it AND knowing what it is can get you into first place.  Like this: