My exciting new children’s television show is starting production. It’s called “Potential.”
Kids are brought into an empty sterile room and faced with two balloons, one green, one orange. Upon picking up either of the balloons a door opens and an actor claiming to be their future self enters. The child spends the next 23 minutes sitting on his own knee listening to a long explanation as to why it ultimately made no difference which color balloon they selected as their fate was determined by a gigantic lottery-type swirling ball machine run by the Rockefellers, forever churning away in an underground pleasure dome just outside Mt. Carmel, West Virginia.
And that, furthermore, they should enjoy the ice cream and model trains now as their destiny requires them to stand staring at a blank, gray wall all day, “just to make sure no one gets away with anything.”