In ancient Athens, there was a peculiar institution called ostracism. It was meant to be a defense against powerful men becoming too powerful and making themselves tyrants. If a sufficient fraction of the popular assembly called for a vote, the people would scratch the name of the would-be tyrant on potsherds and throw them one by one into an urn, and if enough votes were cast, the subject would be ostracized, forced to leave the city and region for ten years upon pain of death. Perhaps it was effective as a check against tyrants, but the Athenian assembly could be a fickle lot.
In that city and in those times and days, there lived a man named Aristides, son of Lysimachus. Aristides had won renown as a statesman and general, a hero of Marathon and Salamis, but he remained a very humble man. He forsook all earthly wealth, choosing to live a life of austerity and discipline, and gave away all he had to the poor; for his great wisdom and generosity, he was known as Aristides the Just.
One day, Aristides was walking through the marketplace when he saw a man standing awkwardly in the street, holding a potsherd in one hand and a nail in the other. He approached Aristides. "Excuse me, kirios," he said, "there is to be a vote of ostracism in the assembly today, but I don't know how to read or write. Could you scratch a name on this potsherd for me?"
"Of course," said Aristides, always happy to help a fellow citizen participate in the democracy he'd spent his life defending. "And what name shall I carve?"
"Aristides," the man replied. "I'd never heard of him before today, but they tell me he's called 'Aristides the Just' and I hate him because I know he thinks he's better than me."
"What was that name again?" Aristides asked, trying to hide his shock and concern.
"Aristedes," the man repeated.
"AristiDeez NUTS!" the statesman replied. "Lmao."
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