Those Are the Rules
I’m sorry, but those are the rules.
You were asked to phrase your responses in the form of a question, regardless whether this was a multiple choice exam.
Unfortunately, the points you’ve earned have therefore been invalidated and I’m afraid you’ll have to retake this driver’s test, my friend.
Because the rules are the rules—I don’t make them up. We can’t be capricious with the rules, you know. If we were, there’d be anarchy. It’d be Saigon 1975 all over again, and I think I speak for every Republican voter here when I say that there are already too many Asians running around here to want to invite comparisons to a war-torn South Pacific metropolis on the brink of failure and ensuing Communist rule.
Or, in case that little historical reference escapes you, it would be Chumbawamba circa 1998.
Please don’t pretend like you don’t understand that reference, either. Chumbawamba was one in a long line of one-hit-wonders from the late 90s, and their song was called “Tubthumping.” It was terrible, and yet each and every one of us knows all of the words to the chorus.
Why? Because we were all slaves to alternative radio, that’s why. And thank God it’s over.
The point is that they, Chumbawamba, were anarchists, and where are they now? Discarded beneath the rock of obscurity, that’s where. Yes, I wish we could say the same for Coldplay, too, but unfortunately they persist. They get to play Super Bowl halftime shows, even though they have to be buttressed with appearances by Beyonce and some short Latino singer who, as near as I can tell, has a talent that consists solely of annoying listeners with over-produced sampled retreads of better songs than he’ll ever write.
So you see why we need rules? That’s why.