The Prodigal Moron

There is much to be learnt from the parable of the Prodigal Moron, as told by that prophet of the Great Moron we know by the name of B6 Pyroxidal. As the story goes, a man had two sons. Well, his wife had the sons - it would have been biologically impossible for him to have "had" them. But I digress. The younger son demanded his share of the inheritance while his father still lived, and went off Interrrailing about Europe. Where he spent every Euro on drugs and booze and items of no literary merit - in the hashish cafes of Amsterdam, on the raddled whores of Ten-Mark Street in Hamburg, on first editions of Dan Brown's novels... After his tenth arrest for vagrancy, and his sudden realisation that he had no idea how or why he was in Bratislava, or to whom the goat belonged, he came to his meagre senses. Whereupon, he emailed his father asking for money to fund his journey back to the bosom of his family.

When he returned home, his father was over-joyed to see him. He ordered the son's favourite take-away curry and a six-pack of wife-beater, and allowed him use of the comfy chair to watch that night's episode of Katie & Peter. The older brother became angry, jealous at the favoured treatment of his faithless brother and upset at the lack of reward for his own faithfulness. But the father responded:

Son, thou left school at 16 and became a plumber. Thou will earn much spondulicks throughout your life. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was on his gap year, and is soon to go to university where he will earn himself a useless degree. Let him make merry now, for he will pay for it to the end of his days.