Most imperative of recent missives was a letter from Forbes, reminding us that we are not a bluebird. "You are not a bluebird," the letter said, gruffly, and then added, "you are a business man." There was a kind of finality about the news, and we read on. "Business is a hard, cold-blooded game today. Survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog. Produce or get out. A hundred men are after your job." If Forbes only knew it, goading of the sort is the wrong treatment for us. We are not, as they say, a bluebird. Nobody who reads the nation regularly, as we do, can retain his amateur bluebird standing. As for business, we agree that it is hard, cold-blooded game. Survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog. The fact that about eighty-five per cent of the dogs have recently been eaten by other dogs perhaps explains what long ago we noticed about business: that it had a strong smell of boloney. If dog continues to eat dog, there will only be one dog left, and he will be sick to his stomach.
E.B. White, "Dog Eat Dog", The New Yorker, 4/1/1933.