Curling rocks
Literally!
Ajitpaul Mangat, Staff
If I were to build a Republic of my own, Plato-style, it would look a lot different than the world we live in right now. Won’t somebody please think about the children? Yes, Mrs. Lovejoy, that is exactly where I would begin the construction of my gay, magical, East High-esque wonderland.
No longer would a child’s first communal experience involve someone exclaiming, “Yo, pass that ganja, bro.” Instead, their lives would be cleaner than Emma Nelson, as they would learn to get high off of the commonplaceness of life: by throwing rocks and sweeping with brooms in unison!
No longer would children be allowed to listen to all that flippity-flip. Instead, the soundtrack of their lives would consist of men and women screaming “Harder! Faster!” as big, hard rocks rubbed up against one another.
No longer would children be taught that life is harmonious, all cute bunnies and true love. Instead, they would learn the truth that the acne-ridden Easter bunny makes you fat and that one is more likely to end up like Pacey Witter, in a relationship with a loony scientologist, than Dawson Leery, up a creek with Steven Spielberg.
In my Republic, children would learn about life, love and liberty the proper way: by curling. Because curling rocks! And children are, after all, the pillars of our future.
Living in a Western culture, children are socialized to think first and foremost about themselves. Philosophy tries its best to teach children about the positive aspects of community and altruism. There is the “tragedy of the commons”: the good of community should come before one’s own individual interests. The “prisoner’s dilemma”: the greatest individual reward only comes as a result of co-operation. And the A.C. Slater royal quandary: the only way to get with a princess is to rely on the accomplishments of others – one’s parents. Even so, the average child is still extremely likely to become a selfish little bugger addicted to MTV (“more tits and violence!” for me) and Facebook.com (look how popular I am).
In my Republic, children would learn, first and foremost, about the philosophy of curling. For curling is, in all senses of the phrase, a “team” sport. No player can win individually, as on every shot the team, as a whole, decides on a strategy, and the shooter needs the help of the sweepers to succeed in placing the rock accurately in and around the rings. From lead to skip each player is equally significant and influential. The philosophy of curling truly is a philosophy of co-operation.
That time comes in every child’s life when they want to learn about the birds and the bees. The opposite sex’s cooties have become a distant memory. They are replaced with more profuse sweating, hairier limbs, and an expression of the “choch-gene,” or a squattier frame, whinier voice, and an expression of the “Do-I-look-fat-in-this?” gene, which are somehow simply irresistible.
What is an embarrassed parent to do? Send their children to the curling rink, of course.
It may not seem like it at first glance, but curling is the sexiest of all sports. To achieve the climax of victory, one must work with a teammate, or a group of others (if you are into that type of thing), to hit the spot, by vigorously rubbing and pounding sticks as hard and fast as possible. Forget talking, in my Republic, children will learn about the great mystery of love by curling.
One of the most difficult lessons of life is that it hardly ever ensues like one hopes and dreams it will. Or as Murphy expressed it so pithily in his law: “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.” If you dream of being a pop star, you will be born without a beautiful singing voice. If you dream of being a woman, you will become trapped in a bizarre purgatory of being not a girl not yet a woman. If you dream of having a family, you will accidentally marry a rat and end up losing custody of your children.
The capricious nature of existence is personified in the sport of curling. Every match is a novel experience, as the conditions of the ice are never the same game-to-game. Because of this unpredictable playing surface brushing becomes a guessing game. As a result, drawing, hit-and-rolls, and tap-backs are made and missed by the slimmest of margins. Even at the highest level of the sport shots are regularly missed, resulting in exciting games, and unpredictable outcomes. By playing curling in my Republic, a child will soon learn that, although one is born with liberty, this liberty is controlled by a whimsical world.
There are many ways to teach children about the world they live in, but in my Republic they would learn by curling. Because there is no better way to discover that life requires co-operation, the birds and bees of love, and that liberty does not really exist.
