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Thursday, August 28, 2014

The horrors of a world run by babies

I've mentioned before that Audrey does a lot of artwork at daycare, which is generally awful and kind of an embarrassment.

(that's a joke. she's a baby for chrissakes.)

Well, recently she came home with this little gem:

And it really got me thinking. Imagine if Audrey really were the sheriff? (also, do you have any idea how hard that word is to spell? How many r's? How many f's? IMPOSSIBLE!)

What if Audrey made all the laws of the land, and everyone had to obey them or go to jail?

What a terrible, nightmarish dystopia of a world that would be. Here are a few of the laws that I'd expect to find:

If you have something in your hand, it's yours.

They say "possession is nine-tenths of the law." Well, in Sheriff Audrey's town, possession IS the law.

It doesn't matter how you got the item in question. Maybe you found it on a high shelf, or in a cupboard that was supposed to be locked. Maybe you pulled it out of the garbage, or found it hidden under the couch cushions. Maybe you took it out of your Mommy's hand. Hell, maybe your Mommy is wearing it around her neck! 

None of this matters a bit. Once it is in your hand, its original owner has lost all rights to it. 

And if someone thinks they can just immediately take it back from its new owner, thus making it theirs again, all I can say is dream on. The laws don't have to make sense in a world run by babies.

If you're eating something and someone wants some of it, you have to share with them.

They don't have to actually ask you for it, either. All they have to do is come and sit near you, watching you like a hawk. You have about ten seconds to comply with this law before you end up in handcuffs.

Imagine how the mall food court would look in the world ruled by Sheriff Audrey. People hiding their food like guilty squirrels while the hungry babies lie in wait, ready to strike at the first crinkle of a Panda Express foam box. Oh, you think your meal is way too spicy for a baby to eat? I'll be the f***ing judge of that.

There is no such thing as 'trespassing.' Curiosity trumps all.

There is no private property in BabyLand. If someone is curious and wants to explore, then that's the end of it -- they have to be allowed to explore. Oh, it might be dangerous for them? Well, too bad; maybe being carried out by this powerful riptide will teach them a lesson about water safety. Their presence might endanger others? Tough break. You should have taken the presence of curious babies into account when you designed this coal mine.

Please note that this curiosity rule unfortunately also extends to the bathroom. There are no doors in BabyLand. You'll just have to learn to poo quickly, and with an audience.

The rules about trespassing extend to your person as well.

Babies need to explore their world, and unfortunately for you, their world includes your face and body. This means that if a baby wants to stick a finger up your nose, then sit still and let that baby stick a finger in your nose. They're learning. Do you want to do hard time in a federal penitentiary? No? Then open your mouth and let me feel your teeth.

People can play with whatever they want, in whatever manner they deem fit.

Under Sheriff Audrey's rule, everything is a toy and there are no rules whatsoever on how these toys can be used. Safety, schmafety. If I want to put a fork into an electrical outlet, that is my right. If I want to wave a leather whip around in a crowd of people, you can't stop me. It's a free country. I'll throw this rock at your head if I feel like it. It's my rock (I had it in my hand, after all), I wanted to throw it at your head, and so I did. Game, set, match.

If someone hurts themselves by playing too aggressively, people are required to assist them.

There's no such thing as personal responsibility in BabyLand. If I want to wave around a stick that is on fire, and that stick that is on fire touches me and burns me, you can't just stand there and say "well it serves you right for doing that." It's illegal. You have to help me! I'm hurt for chrissakes! Don't just stand there!

Of course, if I hurt anyone else while waving around a stick that is on fire, then that's just tough luck for them. Nobody is required to help the bystanders caught in the crossfire. They shouldn't have been standing there.

So now I leave you with a perfectly plausible BabyLand scenario, to truly drive home how terrible such a world would be:

You get home from work after a long day, peeling a banana as you pass through your front entryway (no door, remember?). "Thank god," you think. "I haven't had a chance to eat anything all day! My coworkers are such mooches!"

Just as you take the first bite of your banana, you step into your living room and discover a strange man and woman standing in there.

"What on earth are you doing here?" you demand, noticing that they both seem to be clutching items of yours. "Put those things down! They're mine!"

"We wanted to know what was inside your house, so we came in," the man explains. "Then we saw this stuff and it looked cool, so we grabbed it. It's ours now."

At this point, you notice that the woman has sidled up next to you, staring at your banana and making excited noises. "Oh for f**k's sake," you groan, biting off a piece of the banana and giving it to her.

"I like your house," the man continues, climbing up onto your couch and then stepping gingerly up onto the back of it. "Look how high I am!"

"You really shouldn't do that," you warn, continuing to feed pieces of your banana to the woman. "It's not safe. You could fall."

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" the man shouts, raising his arms over his head. You see that he is holding one of your socks in one hand, and your TV remote in the other. He begins mashing the buttons on the TV remote. "I LOVE THIS REMOTE!"

"I really wish that you would get down from there," you say nervously, noticing that the man's furious button-pushing seems to be rocking the entire couch.

"No!" he cries. And just at that moment, the entire couch tips over backwards from his weight, sending him sprawling. "AHHHHHWWWWAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Shit," you mutter, handing what's left of your banana to the woman while you run over to console the man and check him for injuries.

"I FELL AND I GOT HURT!" the man sobs. "Why did you let this happen?"

You sigh. "I'm so sorry that you got hurt. Here, let me make it better." You wrap your arms around him, rocking him slowly in your lap until his sobs begin to quiet.

Just then, the woman steps in front of you and smashes you in the face with the banana peel, laughing maniacally. And as your jaw drops in surprise, she wordlessly slides a single finger into your mouth all the way to the base knuckle. You can't help but notice her finger's bitter, gritty taste as she pokes at your uvula. Then the man shits himself in your lap.

Don't vote for Audrey for Sheriff. You will regret it.

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