Idiots should not be allowed to dress themselves. Or decide on their own haircut, or the colour of their shoes (white, by the way, to contrast nicely with their dark suit), or the names of their children.
In fact, idiots should just be rounded up and put somewhere, out of harms way, where they can be left alone to bleach the tips of their hair, grow disproportionately around the midsection and wear tight satin dresses without bothering the rest of us.
In such a distopia, they would be free to be the truly useless human beings they are capable of being. There would be no pesky, normal people to subtly encourage them to lift their game or urge them to try asparagus (even though it is clearly gay).
In their own society, these idiots would flourish. They could become hairdressers, where they would stupidly be entrusted to sculpt the top of peoples’ heads into styles popular with rugby league players four years ago. They could be police officers, and blindly refuse to consider reason and logic when carrying out the simplest elements of their duty.
These monumental morons could even become teachers, and look confounded when asked by a student if they could write an assignment on Catcher in the Rye. In such a society, a senior English teacher would be perfectly within his or her rights to have never heard of such a book, or its author J.D. Salinger.
(Of course, everyone else would think that they’re a complete retard, but we musn’t import our own ideals and standards to the kingdom of idiocy.)
If only there was an unused tract of land that we could send these people to. If only there was a town in this country that was purpose built to accomodate idiots and their lifelong pursuit of idiocy.
Oh, wait. There is. Welcome to Brisbane.
