Every entitled freeloader these days thinks they can get something for nothing. Complimentary this, state-sponsored that, just so long as they’re not the ones who end up footing the bill. Well, I hate to break it to all the bums who might wish otherwise, but in this tit-for-tat world of ours, there’s no such thing as a free piggyback ride.
We live in a transactional society. Sure, a man doesn’t send you an invoice after hoisting you up, charging across the lawn at full gallop, and depositing you down on the ground again. But every time you’re carried on a person’s back and taken on a spirited romp through the backyard, someone has to pay for it. That’s simply the way things are.
You may think it costs nothing, but the moment you raise your arms in the air and say “Uppies,” an entry is made upon the balance sheet.
The plain truth of the matter is that a piggy-back ride is not something you have a God-given right to. It comes at another man’s expense. It’s easy enough to take it for granted when somebody squats down, looks over their shoulder, and hollers “All aboard!” with a great big smile. But when you get down to basic economic principles, frolicking through the park on a sunny day while clinging to someone’s back isn’t a service that can be handed out free of charge.
Sadly, most young people these days don’t bother to consider the responsibility that comes with accepting a piggyback ride. They’re too busy crying “Giddyup!” and squealing with delight as they are sped along without a care in the world. When the ground is rushing along beneath them and the wind is blowing through their hair, they ought to be asking what will be demanded of them in return. It’s just possible they’re being taken for a ride in more ways than one.
Life isn’t all fun and games. There’s a price to pay each time you climb up on a big man’s back and he runs with you down the beach, filling you with such joy you can’t help but shout “Wheeeeeeee!”
To be clear, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with piggyback rides. Far from it. I’ve enjoyed plenty in my day, especially as a kid, but the difference is I earned every last one of those rides. Unlike today’s Gimme Generation, I never had any illusions that I would be the recipient of such a treat without being a good boy during a trip to the grocery store, or behaving myself at dinner when we had guests over. I paid my dues. I owed no one. I worked for my place on those backs, dammit, and I expect others to do the same.
This is America. If you want to hop on a person’s back and ride them around like a horsey, you must offer something up in return. It might be tickles. It might be raspberries. They might even want a piggyback ride of their own. But whatever form the bargain takes, you can be sure of one thing: that person’s legs will inevitably get tired, and your debt will inevitably come due.
So go ahead, if you still don’t believe me. Clamber up on somebody’s back. Live in that little fantasy world of yours for as long as you can. But when gravity finally loosens your grip on their shoulders and pulls you back down into the mire of debts and obligations you’ve created, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Jesus Christ is King
