Oh, the mosque near Ground Zero. We've all heard the debate, so I'll spare you the recap.
According to his spokesperson, Senator Harry Reid "respects [the 1st amendment] but thinks that the mosque should be built someplace else." Well, actually that means you don't respect the first amendment. That's like saying, "I agree we should be tolerant ... but fuck that shit." As a liberal, I'm consistently inspired by Harry Reid's unwavering noodle spine, his decisively uncommitted stances, and his steel wool resolve.
This debate adds to the ever increasing history of humanity's fear of buildings. How long has this fear endured? Well, I'm glad I pretended you asked that. Let's take it back to the beginning. Remember this monolith?
Remember how freaked out we were at first? We'd never seen a structure with straight edges, clashing against the random, rough terrain. It looked understandably alien in the backdrop of our early African landscape. But look where we are now: evolved, sentient, mostly hairless!
Speaking of aliens, remember when they gave us these millions of years later?
Can you imagine seeing these stone Goliaths so many thousands of years ago? No wonder the Egyptians were crazy cat people, pulling people's brains out their noses, storing mummified servants in large jars. And yet, like a brain through nostrils, we pulled through. The Great Pyramids didn't hurt us. And think, half the daily programming on the History Channel wouldn't exist without them.
Then came the delicious looking house from Hansel and Gretel. This was humanity's first real test, structurally. Sure, that old witch was a terrific cook, but we were quickly onto her cannibalistic intentions. This building launched humanity into the "no candy from strangers" age. And despite the many creepy vans out there -- filled with promised candy on the inside, painted with majestic eagles and wolves on the outside -- children are rightly skeptical of free candy from people they don't know. Another point for buildings! (Though, minus points for vehicles.)
In the twentieth century we were introduced to both the Amityville house and the Stanley Hotel. And what did we learn from the horrors that transpired in these buildings? That some structures are inherently evil? No, we learned that there is always one person in our family who deep down wants to kill us -- and you've got to get them before they get you. These buildings instilled in us a survival instinct.
The point is, though they may have frightened us initially, all of these buildings taught us something as a people. We learned and grew from their very existence.
The list goes on...
Death Star: We blew it up, we saved the galaxy, and we opened up a lot of jobs for unemployed Imperials.
Death Star II: We blew it up again, again unemployment plummeted, and a bunch of teddy bears far exceeded their dance aerobic workout quota, substantially lowering the galaxy's obesity rates.
Willy Wonka's Factory: Though it seems eerie from the outside and loses children like Neverland Ranch, you'll have a great time if you just avoid being a complete douche.
Bates Motel: Dress up in your mother's clothes and you can still get the girl.
The mosque, I believe, will yield similarly positive results if we approach the situation with an open mind. Also, if anyone's interested in checking out the grand opening with me, I've got room in my sweet van.
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