Picture a bad day in the art studio. You're nailing two pieces of wood together when suddenly you hit your thumbnail with the hammer. Ow! You exclaim. Damn this politically correct hammer! Your nail is broken so you try to find a band-aid to try to hold it together, at least. You must do it fast, because art lesson is starting in two hours.
The cupboard where the band-aid box lies is too high for you to reach, and you grumble once again about the paternalistic society and the glass ceiling that obstructs your way to the band-aid box. But you forget your pains, as you find a ladder that you could climb on.
Pain is throbbing in your thumb, but there is no time to waste (at least, not after twenty minutes of rolling about the floor whining about neoconservative media) You grab the wooden ladder and mount it against the sink below the band-aid box cupboard. The ancient timber creaks and strains under your weight, but you manage to reach the cupboard. At last!
Your hand opens the cupboard door, whereupon the ladder, up till then conforming to Hooke's law of elasticity, chooses to defy the conventions of society and gives way to your descent.
The gesture of falling apart proves to be a controversial one on the part of the ladder, because while it has stripped you of your fundamental human rights to be provided adequate medical aid, it has in fact put forth a bold critique of your stereotypes and preconcieved notions pertaining to how ladders should behave.
A great step forward for ladderhood, you think, as you get up and look at the sorry splintered wreck. As there are no ladders left, you resolutely repressed the pain in your thumb, wrapped it up in traditional toilet paper instead, and prepared for class.
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