He was the cunning critter who tricked his captor into throwing him into the briar patch by pretending he didn't want to be there.
The dumb fox fell for it, tossing Br'er Rabbit precisely where he wanted to be in the first place.
I thought of that tale this week while listening to Buddy Dyer and Teresa Jacobs.
The two were acting as if they'd been forced at gunpoint to attend the NBA All-Star Game.
Sure, they'll be sitting in free luxury suites that would cost the average Joe $5,000.
Yes, they'll be surrounded by the rich, the famous and all the trappings of one of the world's highest-profile sporting events.
But to hear the mayors, City Council members and county commissioners tell it, the poor things are being worked to the bone.
Orlando leaders have "official roles" at the star-studded event, explained Dyer's spokeswoman.
Said Jacobs: "Everybody understands they are coming there to work … I'd rather be home on a Sunday night with my family watching it on TV."
Oh, come now, Br'er mayors.
No need to play us for dumb foxes.
You're going to the All-Star Game. I get it. I don't have any real beef with that. This is what mayors do. They go to big events, try to score some TV time, shake hands and act generally mayoral.
But spare us the malarkey about how you — and nearly dozen other local commissioners and their plus-ones — just have to be there for business reasons.
The "official business" the county cited was recruiting conventions.
Apparently the fact that we spent more than a billion dollars building one of the biggest convention centers the world isn't reason enough to win conventions.
No, we're supposed to believe that what corporate bigwigs truly want to seal the deal is face time and a handshake with the District 2 commissioner for northwest Orange County during the All-Star game.
Not even Br'er Fox would buy that.
