Doing laundry. Watching TV. What a life, eh? I just learned, via the History International channel, that the mummified dead of the Incas got dressed up in jewels and fine clothes, and went to lavish parties with other mummies. (Now that's the life... or death?) They accomplished this by means of a devoted class of attendants, who also carried them through the streets on parade, and carried them into battle. They owned all the best land and the best stuff, and were catered to day and night. These "Royal Dead" sounded more like the Royal Pain.

On the other had (and isn't there always the other hand, mummified or not), these so-called devoted attendants got to eat and drink the food and beer that was set before the Royal Dead. Got to live in their palaces. Got to look spiffy in parades. Ok, there was the occasional battle. Nevertheless looking after the dead was a cushy life. They got to "speak" for the worshiped Royal Dead, making deals with the living. They became devoted to their greed. Thus the Inca empire unraveled. True, there were other factors like the Spaniards and their small pox.

The moral of the story: When one group decides to be the spokespeople for another group whose voices aren't as loud (yes, I know, in this case they were dead -- but I'm making a point here), exploitation follows. And centuries later it becomes an expose on TV for viewers who wonder during the commercials if their whites will come out bright. Deep thinking on a Thursday.