What do minivans and waterslides have in common? No, not fun. The answer is kids—loads and loads of screaming kids.
It’s possible that none of this matters. Billions of years from now, after all of humanity’s great struggles and achievements, the universe will collapse back in on itself, and all that exists and all knowledge of all that was will be compressed into a singularity so inescapable that not even Katniss Everdeen will be able to shoot her way out. Meanwhile, perpetuating life on Earth is, for whatever reason, our most basic urge. And that’s not such a bad thing—right up until you succeed. Then it’s all sympathy weight; poop in unimaginable colors, textures, and places; and, later, insolence. But the biggest bummer of all is that your best option, if you think about it rationally, is to drive a minivan.
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