THE TRIAL

I have this dream where I am in a large courtroom confronted by The Powers That Be. If I were to peer over the side of the table where I sit, I would see golden letters forming the word "Defendant." I do not peer over the side of the table, however, because The Powers That Be intimidate me and I feel like it is very important that I act Decorous and not do Undecorous things like peer over the side of my own table. So I stand there, waiting, nervous and trying to look meek and properly respectful. Then The Powers That Be speak. They say to me, "Robert Smith, you stand before this court in order that you may be tried for the Crimes of Humanity." At this point, shock prompts me to forget the "meek and respectful" bit and I respond, "Whoa." Then, to be sure they understand my position, I repeat this line a few more times. Eventually, in the interest of clarity, I rephrase my objections, "Wait a minute. You're charging me with the Crimes of Humanity? What have I done that this burden should fall to my shoulders? Isn't there someone better suited to this? Isn't there someone who perhaps had a hand in the Crimes of Humanity that you might want to charge instead?"
The Powers That Be smile at me indulgently and I realize two things. One, it is probably not a good idea to be yelling at The Powers That Be. Two, I do not have a lawyer, or if I do, he is incompetent for letting me yell at The Powers That Be. Neither of these realizations fills me with much hope for the outcome of this trial. "Actually," say The Powers That Be, who can be very nice when it suits them, "You're not being charged with any crimes. You have been chosen as a representative of Humanity that you may defend, justify, or explain certain actions of your species. Before you raise another eloquent objection, other trials have already addressed the Greater Crimes like Genocide, Greed, and Boy Bands. We have also addressed most of the lesser crimes. Your trial addresses humanity's repeated violation of basic sense." I look around once more for a lawyer and see no one who will explain to me what is really going on and how I should respond. I bite the bullet and say, with complete honesty, "I do not understand."
The Powers That Be try again. "We would like you to serve as humanity's representative in helping us determine humanity's guilt or lack-thereof in what, We suppose, would basically boil down to ‘the perpetuation of bizarre quirks.'" Comprehension completely fails to dawn on my face. They go on, "For instance, there are the timeless questions: Why do people park in driveways and drive on parkways? Why isn't phonetics spelled the way it sounds? Why is there brail on the keypads of drive-up ATM's? You've heard all of these questions before."
"Yes, and I believe I can at least answer the last one. It's for blind people in taxicabs."
"Then tell Us, have you ever seen a speaker on a drive-up ATM?" I admit that I have not noticed such a thing. "Then how do these blind people in taxicabs know what is displayed on the screen of the ATM?" I have no answer to this and say so. The Powers That Be consider their point proven and continue, "Really, however, these issues are tip-of-the-iceberg cliches but they illustrate, We think, the concept We wish to examine at today's trial. But enough explanation. We shall now proceed with the trial. You have heard the accusations against you. How do you wish to plead?" I think for a moment then settle upon an answer I believe fits the situation.
"I wish to plead Contemporary Insanity." This is not what The Powers That Be had expected. They ask me to repeat my plea. "I believe that humanity should be acquitted of these accusations due to the fact that we were all Contemporarily Insane at the time these acts were committed."
The Powers That Be shrug, "Okay."
"Okay?"
They nod. "Yes. We find humanity not guilty by reason of contemporary inanity."
"Insanity." They shrug again and ignore my interruption. "Now, having so ruled, We order that you must submit yourself to treatment."
"I what?"
"Treatment." I look around for a lawyer again hoping that maybe he was just late and would, at any moment, rush into the courtroom to save me. He fails to do so and The Powers That Be continue, uninterrupted by timely legal objections, "We order that you should observe these acts of contemporary insanity and report your findings to Us regularly for the next year. At that time We shall reconvene to determine whether the therapy has been successful. Case closed" Then I am led away by the bailiff who turns out to be my fifth grade gym teacher who takes me to a McDonald's filled with smurfs that all look like John Malkovich, or at least how he would look if he were blue and really short. Ultimately, it's a pretty weird dream.