Fiction

This idea just popped into my head today. It kind of sums up my frustration with the whole CPSIA process, and what is going on socially. It's an emotional reaction to the situation and is therefore quite exaggerated - I don't think this would actually happen. I do think that there are certain people who would really like the idea, though, which makes me quite sad for them and their kids. Anyhow, on with the show:

The Paternal States of America

A vignette.

A comfortable looking living room, walls lined with bookshelves, coffee table with a plate of cheese and crackers, and a woman on the couch knitting. A fluffy white cat is sleeping comfortably next to her. A large screen TV is mounted to the wall, but is not turned on.

On the left side of the room there is a thick glass-partitioned area that is blank and white, no furniture or any objects inside it, except for a small, thin, naked child, with its nose pressed against the glass.

“Mommy, I am cold, can I have some clothes today?”

“No, honey, they might have poisonous chemicals in them.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry, can I have some food?”

“No, honey, the food might be contaminated with germs. You also might be allergic to a trace ingredient.”

“Mommy, I’m bored, can I have a book to read?”

“No, honey, the book might have lead in the ink.”

“Can I play a game?”

“Of course not, honey, it might make you violent.”

“Mommy, I’m lonely, can I have a friend to play with?”

“No, you might catch a terrible disease from another child.”

“Mommy, I’m tired, can I have a blanket to lie down with?”

“No, honey, you might catch fire and it wouldn’t put you out.”

“Mommy, when can I come out?”

“You know the answer to that, honey! We’re not allowed to let you out until the government tells us it’s safe. Maybe when you’re 18.”