Out of the Chalk of Babes

On a recent trip to the Science Museum, I happened upon a children’s section where they had set up a series of small chalkboards. Children were supposed to write what kind of museum they would like to make when they grew up.

The chalk boards had been set up behind glass so no one could actually write anything new, which to my mind kind of defeated the purpose of chalkboards. It also struck me as odd that some teacher thought that elementary-school students at a science museum would rather learn about museum curator-ship than, say, science. The children’s suggestions for what kinds of museums they wanted all had the kind of naive, deliberate cuteness that, though charming in Welch's grape juice commercials, can be nauseating in large doses. “A MUSEUM OF ORANGE THINGS!” in all caps was next to “i would like to see a kitten museum” written in careful, ‘I’m learning cursive’ style cursive.

Then I noticed that around the corner, blocked from view by a large magnet, some child had written in scraggily block letters, the words “Poop Fuck.” At first I thought it was simple vandalism, but then the genius juxtaposition of two such disparate curse words began to dawn on me, and I began to see what that child saw: The Museum of Poop Fuck, it was way better than that lame kitty Museum.