If Things Were Done My Way

Assuming, dear reader, that you can count yourself among those who hold to the worthy habit of attempting to look further (if only slightly) than the end of their own nose, at least once or twice every twenty-four hours, then you probably are fully aware that, currently, things are, for the most part, not nearly as good as they could be or should be. (Not, I grant you, that things have ever been what might be regarded as altogether peachy.)

However, there is no need to abandon yourself to utter despair, for I am pleased to offer a remedy. It is my belief that if things were done my way, the general situation would be different, and, I daresay, a great deal better.

If things were done my way, no meal, at any time of day, would ever include a serving of stewed prunes.

If things were done my way, schools would be converted into fun houses, and children would be able to play without needless distractions.

If things were done my way, greedy businessmen would be forced to eat their own underwear as a penance for their sins.

If things were done my way, people who wore silly hats and false noses, every day of the week, all year round, would not have to pay taxes.

If things were done my way, everyone would be given a choice of either growing up or growing down.

If things were done my way, stepping in puddles on rainy days would be accepted as equivalent to obtaining a degree from a university.

If things were done my way, young people who desire wealth would be given a harsh rebuke and sent to their rooms for the rest of their lives.

If things were done my way, concrete would be scorned, and weeds would be allowed to flourish.

If things were done my way, people who lived in mansions, with many more rooms than they needed, would have to do all the housecleaning themselves.

If things were done my way, wars would be fought with feathers, popcorn, and cotton balls, rather than with guns, bombs, and missiles.

If things were done my way, anyone who displayed bad manners would, after receiving three warnings, be banished to a desert island.

If things were done my way, voters would be held to account for the actions of those whom they elect.

If things were done my way, reciting Elizabethan poetry backward, while standing on one's head, would be an Olympic sport.

If things were done my way, clocks would run much slower on sunny days, so that the sunshine would last longer.

It remains to be seen, of course, whether things will ever be done my way. Indeed, it is likely that, for the time being, things will continue to be done every way other than my way, which means that things will continue to fall short of my standards, but one can always hope.