In all the parks in all the cities, I’ve found no statues of committees
Saving town residents from the ungodly chaos of comfort, convenience and enjoyment, a local zoning committee forbade all future town endeavours of any sort, artistic, commercial or educational, saying in an official statement that “…Things were just fine as they were. There are RULES, you know…”
It was pointed out to them that there once was a rule about blasphemy that was punishable by burning at the stake. One committee member, at that moment morbidly fantasizing about holding pillows over the snouts of puppies that pee on the carpet, felt a wave of barely disguised enthusiasm at such a thought but then stopped herself. There are strict regulations about burning this time of year, after all.
Believing devoutly that nothing may be permitted to change since the day they moved to the area, that an absolute stasis must be viciously enforced, the board members trudged over to the decrepit coffee trailer next to the payphone and sucked on miserable, weak coffee out of chipped cups once given away at the Esso, back in the 1960s. “This is how we’ve always done it,” sniffed Joy Jobsworth, committee chair. “It is perfectly good enough,” she added, having unilaterally decided for literally everyone on Earth.
It was pointed out that along with larger populations come physical changes to cities and towns, and with time different needs. This was violently rebutted by Hortense Clench, Vice-Chair, who believes deeply that, “We on this committee have already foreseen all changes that can reasonably occur and which will be permitted. Nothing else can be put forth. As for population growth, there should be a committee tasked with enforcing birth control. We. Do. Not. Need. More. People.” With the last word she began marching around, stiff legged, with a wild look in her eyes. The rest of the group raised their arms to the sky and shouted, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
She went on to say, “Self-denial is the way. Suffering is good for the soul. War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength. Spank me, spank me!!!” One television journalist dropped her notepad in shock. Mrs Clench climaxed with, “I am ready for my closeup Mr DeMille…”