In the deep jungles of darkest Africa lived a wild native tribe, with a prideful chief. He lorded over his subjects day after day from atop his throne of mud. One day, one of his weary subjects said to the chief, "Wise One, though your throne is large, it is of such poor material. Would you not look even mightier atop a sturdier throne?"
The chief took these words to heart, and that very day ordered his people to construct him a new throne of wood. Proud and regal sat he upon it, until the same subject approached him once more. "What a great sturdy throne, Wise One, but would you not look more wealthy were your throne more ostentatious?" And so the Chief orders a new throne constructed of bronze.
This continues, day after day, with thrones of bone, of silver, of gold, and evermore, and each day, his people provide him with a new throne, and take the old to store them in the attic of the Wise One's grass hut. One night, however, the weight above the Chief as he slept was too much, and the structure collapsed, killing the Chief.
The moral? Those who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.