This was not a stupid frog. He knew the water was boiling. He was smarter than a whole bunch of people, which, for a frog, is impressive. There are millions of people too stupid to realize that.
And yet he continued to sit in the pot of water, occasionally hopping out for a moment to turn the burner up increase the heat. The heat, he knew, attracted the flies and he happily engorged himself on the giant swirl of flies. He smiled and rubbed his huge distended belly.
He dunked in the water and drank the same water and told himself—no, told everybody who would listen and even those who wouldn’t—that all was well.
He glanced down at his tadpoles who were darting about frantically. The tadpoles complained they were hot and the water stinks. But dad dismissed his bratty children. They are, after all, very young and they will learn.
The frog was certain that his age was wisdom itself, and that the world would continue as it always had. Only he’d have more and more glorious flies.
Fortunately, the desperate tadpoles murdered him in his sleep, turned down the heat and studied engineering and science. They would, one day, create ice cubes.