If a powerful man, named Chained Dog, never gets to be King, Pope, or President, and stands in the shadow of a man or woman with the real job of leadership, and whispers ” In My Humble Opinion” in the leader’s ear and uses that phrase to elevate humility to the pinnacle of arrogance…
He will abuse the special power of the Side Kick.
There is nothing more dangerous than a chained dog who, as a vice president, a bad cardinal in full church plumage, or a pale court henchman looks at the throne, and thinks, if the king dies I can eat the entrails of his legacy and fatten inside his casket, crying like a mourning Hyena, to gain the sympathy of the people.
If it’s a fat legacy, a previous surplus of money, grain, corn, or war, perhaps Chained Dog will eat well for a time.
This is not a horse whisperer, this is a whisperer to power.
In every back alley, in the halls of great houses, on the battle field of commerce, there is the whispering voice of the Chained Dog, a baby cry of ambition that precedes the growl of war and poverty.
He is bonded in his ego with the Greek Oracles, who were high on gasses from the volcanic core of the earth, while he might just be high from the gasses of his last lunch at the chamber of commerce, he speaks as if he is the wise voice, when in fact, he has long been a serial killer of innovation and imagination.
If Kings were always wise, they would love an honest wolf, and keep at least one to eat the Chained Dogs.
Kings often roll in the shit of their Chained Dog, and then have to listen to the Chained Dog blame them for the way they smell.