You want to play a prank on your friend. She’s about to give a tremendously important piano recital in front of a tremendous crowd. It’s a big deal, but unfortunately, you are an asshole and “It’s just a prank, bro.” You put a woopie-cushion filled with gravy under the seat of maybe a third of the chairs in the auditorium. But these aren’t ordinary woopie-cushions. You replaced the actual seat cushions, disguising them so seamlessly that the only way to find them is to sit down on them. These folding chairs get stacked and put away, and you congratulate yourself, knowing that you did a good job. No one will ever find all the woopie cushions.
Your friend hears about your prank, and in outrage, she cancels the performance and moves it to a venue that doesn’t have landmines. But you have no idea where you planted the landmines anymore. You can take a wild guess, but the point was for them to be an undetectable explosive hazard. And undetectable they remain. A year later, the gravy has rotted and congealed. The few woopie cushions that do go off release a toxic biohazard that gets people seriously sick when they detonate.
You’ve made this music venue completely uninhabitable. They have to close for years to clear the toxic sludge out of every corner of the chair storage area. It’s long and expensive. Ten years later, someone finds a woopie cushion that they missed, and ends up in the hospital with a lung infection.
TL;DR. This would be like planting a woopie cushion under a bunch of folding chairs at a giant music venue. Mines are very hard to find and dangerous to everyone, it’s why they shouldn’t be used.
Doubt.
Consider:
You want to play a prank on your friend. She’s about to give a tremendously important piano recital in front of a tremendous crowd. It’s a big deal, but unfortunately, you are an asshole and “It’s just a prank, bro.” You put a woopie-cushion filled with gravy under the seat of maybe a third of the chairs in the auditorium. But these aren’t ordinary woopie-cushions. You replaced the actual seat cushions, disguising them so seamlessly that the only way to find them is to sit down on them. These folding chairs get stacked and put away, and you congratulate yourself, knowing that you did a good job. No one will ever find all the woopie cushions.
Your friend hears about your prank, and in outrage, she cancels the performance and moves it to a venue that doesn’t have landmines. But you have no idea where you planted the landmines anymore. You can take a wild guess, but the point was for them to be an undetectable explosive hazard. And undetectable they remain. A year later, the gravy has rotted and congealed. The few woopie cushions that do go off release a toxic biohazard that gets people seriously sick when they detonate.
You’ve made this music venue completely uninhabitable. They have to close for years to clear the toxic sludge out of every corner of the chair storage area. It’s long and expensive. Ten years later, someone finds a woopie cushion that they missed, and ends up in the hospital with a lung infection.
TL;DR. This would be like planting a woopie cushion under a bunch of folding chairs at a giant music venue. Mines are very hard to find and dangerous to everyone, it’s why they shouldn’t be used.
Wow. Have you ever considered writing educational books for children?
Piano recitals, toxic gravy, woopie cushions.
This analogy is so relatable.
Hey, I’m trying! 🥲
I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the analogy.