WORKS ON DIGITAL PAPER

The Office

It is the moment of tragicomedy in every new parent's existence. The moment when they hand the newborn to you, shuffle you out the door, put you in the car and wave goodbye. Then, all of a sudden, you are the proud and hilariously unsuspecting owner of a human life. I remember Marina turning to me and asking in a half serious half mock terror, "wait, that's it? We just take him away?" It is a similar moment of tagicomedy when one realizes the ineptitude of institutional thinking. At this point, the veracity of everything we are told is good for us is on the table. Doctors get it depressingly wrong with their generalized assumptions, wide-net diagnosis and narrow, non-holistic tendencies. Teachers have to operate out of an underfunded defensive huddle, doling out thoughtless lesson plans whether they like it or not. The institutions of governance rely so heavily on public opinion, their number are often culled from the more dogmatic (read, stupid) sections of cultural leadership. I am currently faced with the decision to vaccinate my son from this new pig sickness. I do not regularly partake in vaccines for myself, and I am generally wary of putting anything foreign into my child. Granted, I don't want to end up like some poor Zimbabwean who has been brainwashed to believe the Polio vaccine is really a syringe loaded with AIDS. I've had conversations with people from both sides. Some look at me crazy for considering the vaccine, some look at me like a bad father for thinking otherwise.