Imagine you’re an eighth grader, and you have to decide whether you want to be a regular, law-abiding citizen of the Netherlands or a controversial rapper, cause if you don’t you’ll be barred from any of Europe’s most prestigious bus museums. The tension builds and builds, and yet you’re not even a citizen of the Netherlands, you’re Yemeni by birth and have lived in southwestern Bolivia for the last seven years selling dirty comic books. And then, no matter what you choose, they tell you it’s the wrong answer, and they hit you and laugh at you, and as you pass out you realize you’ll never see the prototype of the bus that cut intra-Amsterdam travel times by up to 74 seconds…
Is it a nightmare? Are you that guy from the book about the guy who travels through time unsure of his visa status? Is life as you know it just an illusion? Or are you really just an ass who ate hundreds of Werther’s Originals while in the pool and is getting confused by the mix of sugar-high and chlorine? This is for posterity to decide, but it brings up a lot of important issues, like how it’s easy to mistake college painters for fugitive members of the Politburo.
I can think of three ways people might to weasel out of this important life choice. One is a half-and-half method where the person would try to please both sides. So they’d become a hip-hop guy wearing wooden shoes, or hand out remix CD’s at their tulip stand. The second is to pretend not to care about the loss of European bus museum privileges. â€œI’m more a train connoisseur, myselfâ€ such a person would say. The third, and most effective, solution, would be to attempt to serve sauteed weight belts to everyone in the downtown area. You’d have to go heavy on the garlic butter, or they’d bring it all up again during dessert.
Finally, here’s an interesting side note on how the people in your imaginary debate scenario chose to link bus museums with the Dutch-versus-thug battle. They were going to have Legos run the bus museums once they became sentient, but a lot of the officials worried that the Legos would just lay around on each other all day. They wouldn’t be independent enough to build exhibits or curate old photos. But humans didn’t want to do it. So they thought if they scared everyone into thinking they’d be cut off from bus museums, they’d get the kids of tomorrow to go into bus museum curation as a career. Then the Legos wouldn’t have to run the museums at all. Why is your subconscious so concerned about bus museums? Maybe you were a standee on the bus as a kid, and therefore weren’t permitted. Or maybe it was those Werther’s again. Just stay out of the pool for an hour, why don’t you.