Working for Mordor… a comparative of fiction and reality, depicting our weakened society to the freeloader hobbits vs. the labor hardened orcs of Mordor.
I think you’ll agree that a freeloader society is the equivalent of a sinking ship. But, let us look at popular fiction and see where circumstance is penned in to create a sympathetic view of a rather weak ideology. Namely, the hobbit vs. the orc.
Aside from the many misconceptions stemming from Tolkien’s insatiable and deranged hobbit fetish, there is only one useful thing we can draw relevant reference from in The Lord of the Rings. Which is, quite simply, Mordor.
Now, the pacifists would have us believe that Mordor is the land of darkness. Yet, this is more likely a ruse to cover up their own mischief. So, in truth Mordor is the land of industry and progress. Sauron is the embodiment of technology and sorcery. Two very useful things, indeed. Orcs are an extension of this technology and magical power owned by Sauron Almighty.
Consider for a few moments the indisputable difference in usefulness, or lack thereof, between the average hobbit and the mighty orc—Two species which should never have met in the stories of Middle Earth in the first place.
We have on the one hand a barefooted pest who’s height and poise is too comical to be taken into serious consideration for any kind of practical occupation or trade, and of a race only loved by the high elves (and pot smoking Gandalf)—that insufferable know-it-all, the ultimate little wino and connoisseur of biscuits, a packrat of trinkets, he who burrows and makes his residence in the mud… our contemptuous hobbit!
These tiny creatures are so despicable they refuse to wear shoes to work or at any other given time. In fact, most hobbits don’t even have a job. A hobbit is incapable of tying his own necktie in the expected civilized manner. Hobbits insist that their taste in countryside mushrooms puts their miserable personalities right up there with the snooty elves. They tend to be fat and ridiculously attached to trinkets no one of average height or stature would bother to stoop down and regard.
Moreover, and most astonishing of all hobbit faults, is that their ability to read and write is severely limited to only one or two hobbits in all of the Shire. And for this rare accomplishment outside of the scope of usual hobbit nonsense we make reference to a certain unscrupulous character, one Mr. Bilbo Baggins, and his dimwit nephew, Frodo Baggins (errr, Mr. Underhill or whatever this separatist from the fellowship calls himself these days). However well-established Mr. Baggins may be, we know that Bilbo’s nonchalant disposition toward anyone other than his swart-alf (dwarf) friends makes him the intolerable ass at your best friend’s birthday party--Hell, Bilbo was arrogant enough to leave at his own going away birthday party without a parting word to his much beloved and only nephew! In fact, he left the Shire entirely to go stay with his snob friends in Rivendale! (Just read the books! It’s all in there!).
Now, this is something of a disposition that one would expect to skip generations, but, sadly, no. Even Bilbo’s nephew, Frodo, made his gardener, Sam, carry the lazy Frodo Baggins up a volcano and into Mount Doom—and this was only after Sam waited on Frodo hand-and-foot while trespassing into the land of Mordor (Where no hobbit has business being in, in the first place!). As if being a burden to his friends and companions was not bad enough, Frodo insisted that he was the only one carrying a burden (Ah, yes, that’s one we haven’t heard before. But we all know you’re a kleptomaniac just like your uncle Bilbo! We know what you carry in your filthy little pocket! Smeagol will testify!).
Now, take a keen glance over our hard working orc. While less fortunate in appearance, these mighty, untiring, and hardworking creatures will quite literally labor for simple grub (and they are particularly fond of hobbit meat). Orcs are the driving backbone of the armies for Mordor and Isengard. Orcs can run for vast distances, and this distinguishing attribute saves the orcs’ master Sauron from having to purchase car insurance or hand out bus passes.
Moreover, orcs rarely complain about benefits, and will consume their corporate meals with regular gusto. Albeit, maggoty bread runs for a long stretch out in the field for our orkish operatives.
Can we say the same of finicky Samwise the fat hobbit, who continuously harassed his undernourished and hospitable guide, Mr. Smeagol, only to go on calling him names like ‘Gollum’ or ‘Villain’, and ranting about the much deprived Mr. Smeagol’s habit of eating raw and wiggling fish???! I think not! (That’s right, Sam!--You keep those nasty potatoes! Let poor Smeagol eat his sushi in peace, you bully!).
Oh, sure, little Samwise will step all over the bony, but humble, Mr. Smeagol. But, give Samwise room to open his wide trap, and you’ll find him whimpering and droning on about cream covered strawberries, and how homesick he is for the shire.
Getting back to the real villains of importance, we turn our attention back to the Baggins and their ilk.
As if Bilbo’s thievery of Mr. Smeagol’s magic ring was insufficient cruelty, Frodo had to follow in the footsteps of his wicked uncle by placing Mr. Smeagol into a form of indentured slavery, maintained indefinitely by threats of pain or death or in the destruction of Mr. Smeagol’s ring. (And, they call me a villain!). To really rub salt in Mr. Smeagol’s wounds, our contemptuous hobbits threw their host, Mr. Smeagol, into a pit of molten lava! (Oh, I get it. If Frodo can’t have the ring, then nobody can!).
Hero of the story, my helmet!
More to the point, even Frodo’s cousins weren’t much more comfort in companionship from most of their kinsmen. Merry and Pippin (Pipe-head) were a pair of freeloaders at best, and enjoyed bragging about stealing crops from the few hobbits who did any real work (farming being about the only real job in Hobbit land). And it would seem that thievery was some kind of mark of true hobbit mischief, as it was well documented by Tolkien that Pippin snatched up Saruman’s orb, and could think of nothing else but taking it, yet again, from Gandalf. (One would think that a practical solution to hobbit mischief would be to leave the little hoodlums locked in the pig pen, and let the hogs have their way with them!).
While the average hobbit will boast about his talent in finding toadstools in the forest, they are truly unqualified to do any real job. (Just look at how the reckless Bilbo in his youth tied his necktie, and took his friends nose-diving into a pile of manure, only to find less than a handful of mushrooms. Oh, I get it. Like humor, but different.).
Let us ignore the whimsical claims of the weak little hobbit.
On the other hand, look to our skill hardened orcs for an example of true talent and vigor. Orcs make fine lumberjacks, inexhaustible blacksmiths, and superb warriors. An orc can ride a warg into battle. A hobbit can barely get into the saddle of a pony (Again, we need only draw comparison to our fearless white orc—the Defiler—and silly little Bilbo trying to keep up with the dwarves, who could at least ride real horses.).
Orcs may be the Jacks-of-all-trade type, but they’ll pick up new skills without complaining. Whether out in the field (usually burning down little hobbit houses) or back at Mordor incorporated (usually building new machinery and weapons), the mighty orc is your best bet for a job done right. (Need someone to knock on that door of opportunity? Hell, orcs will batter that door down with relentless enthusiasm! One need only look at how the orcs crafted stylish catapults, battering rams, and weapons for tens of thousands of their fellow coworkers.). Now, that is teamwork! (Could one even consider for a moment the pursuit of asking of this same quality from a—ahem—HALFLING?!).
Now, the best thing about working for Mordor is that their CEO—Master Sauron—does not do outsourcing (particularly after his contractor, Saruman the White, failed miserably in that venture). Mordor trains from within its own borders, and catapults the heads of illegal barbarians over castle walls! When the dark lord is in need of a navy, he may use the black ships as contractors. For the most part, Mordor is a hire within kind of organization.
Master Sauron ensures quality in his employees and contractors. Mordor Incorporated tests all of its candidates through vigorous work and harsh environments. Sauron punishes wishy-washy whiners, and promotes engineering and the military industrial complex. That’s right, you safe-space morons! Say good-bye to the thin and transparent elvish goods you so relish. No more wandering vagabonds like Gandalf and his liberal counterparts, the hobbits. The time of the orc is here!
Do not be fooled by the wool-head ideology of the hobbits! Take example of Saruman the White, wisest of wizards. The good Saruman the White undoubtedly tried with all earnestness to warn the foolish Gandalf about the hobbit’s mind-altering leaf. Did he listen? No! In fact, Gandalf, who’s mind was so inhibited by the hobbit’s pipe smoking, then went on to get Radagast the Brown hooked on the same dope that the hobbits supplied in his pipe.
I’m not at all sure what Gandalf’s problem is, but I bet it’s something very difficult to pronounce.
And, let us not forget the self-imposed hero of the trilogy, that barefooted slacker, Mr. Frodo Baggins (More like Frodo Bargains, as he seemed to enjoy watching others do his work for him.).
Did not Mr. Pity-Me-Everyone, Frodo Baggins, top off all his evil deeds when he dumped an incomplete book of his self proclaimed heroism on his poor and illiterate gardener, and the forever indentured servant, Sam? (Egad! What a schnorer of a halfling!).
A sick joke, I tell you! Those Baggins’ are utterly ruthless little devils!
Does one need further example of the dastardly deeds of these little demons? Perhaps, you are not yet convinced. To this I must direct your attention to the Baggins’s family history.
Bilbo’s uncle invented the game of golf by knocking off the head of a less fortunate member of the goblin race. (Racist bastard!). Then, if one considers working for a rich jerk like Bilbo, first keep in mind to reference this freelancer’s resume. As a contractor Bilbo completely and totally screwed Thorrin Oakenshield. When the time came for defending the gold that was rightfully Thorrin’s by inheritance, and later by conquest of the dragon, Smaug, the malevolent Bilbo Baggins had a fit of liberalism and sold out Thorrin to the lake men and the elves (and his leaf smoking companion, Galdalf, had no problem with helping the little devil carry out this devious plan, even though Gandalf was old enough to know better.). Indeed Thorrin was sorry that he ever signed a contract with Bilbo. In the end, Thorrin died painfully, and all the while little Bilbo (Bastard) Baggins went home with pockets full of gold, a magic ring that he stole from a beggar named Mr. Smeagol, and all the pot he could possibly fill in his pipe (and Gandalf's) for years to come.
Alas, fear not. The dark lord promises our nation two things: You’ll have lots of work to do in the new coming age of darkness. And, you’ll enjoy watching the hobbits lose the battle against true power!
Mordor is back in business!
(Disposition and Disclaimer: This article is in its entirety an article of humor, and does not reflect the serious views of our contributors. The article is merely designed as an alternative perspective to heroism in popular literature and film.).