Never fear! Underdog is here!
(Pictures in this article come from www.toontracker.com/totaltv/underdog.htm)
Underdog and Sweet Polly Purebred
Do you remember that cartoon show “Underdog”? You might have watched it as a kid in the 1960s and early 1970s. Underdog was a “humble and lovable Shoeshine Boy” who had a secret identity.
Whenever there was a serious world crisis or threat to the city, Underdog would turn into a superhero after taking a special vitamin pill from the secret compartment in his watch.
Underdog had a girlfriend named Sweet Polly Purebred. Sweet Polly was sweet on Underdog. Sweet Polly was a reporter, who seemed to get into trouble with the bad guys in every show. When in crisis mode, she would yell, help, help, help, Underdog, help. Sometimes Sweet Polly would actually sing despondently when Underdog was late in arriving. “Oh where, oh where has my Underdog gone?”
Underdog was probably the best boyfriend Sweet…
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I think that you might agree with me that it is rare to find a truly “good” human—a person you know instinctively is kind, compassionate, honest, transparent and loving—and not just to those who serve his or her interests, but to all beings. Well, I met a middle-aged man the other day and knew right off the bat that he was “good.” He owns a grocery store in town and sells tasty homemade snacks. Since I was hungry, after I shopped I ate something there, and he joined me at the small table in the back and freely told me his story. Lots of financial setbacks, he said, shaking his head sadly, and at one time a big position in a company in the Middle-East that he had lost—an underling who had coveted his job had made such big trouble for him that he had finally quit.
Last night I had one of my long dreams—often they are complete stories and quite fascinating in their twists and turns. The star of this one was a woman I know who, by dint of hard work and her husband’s ability to take enormous financial risks, has moved up from a lower economic status to become a multi-millionaire. Unfortunately, although she maintains a simple façade, she is blown away by her own rise; although she continues to be miserly and harsh in her treatment of the poor and the sick, she will not fail to let you know that she and her family have been specially favored by the material gods.
There’s a middle-aged sadhu here in Tiruvannamalai whom I often give a ride to on my way to and from the Ashram. He’s skinny, bespectacled and a speed walker; he foots it everywhere, from morning to night, getting his free food at the various Ashrams, and then finding a quiet place to do his meditation and study. He tells me he practices yoga everyday too, and most passionately. In his frayed shoulder bag he carries cheap packets of biscuits and feeds the stray dogs he encounters on his daily travels. I’ve known him now for close to eight years now and he tells me he prays for me every single day, which makes me inordinately happy.
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