There is danger lurking at the Montshire Museum of Science in Norwich, Vt. Do not, under any circumstances, visit the Montshire Museum of Science.
No matter how alluring Vermont may seem in general; no matter how intrigued you are that Norwich, Vt., has a science museum, unlike some other New England towns you might think of; do not be fooled.
Under no circumstances should you visit the Montshire Museum of Science.
What would happen to you if you went to the museum? Your imagination would be snatched from you; your sense of wonder would ooze from your little brain like maple syrup from a Vermont maple tree.
The museum is prepared to show you exactly how an Elmo doll learned to dance. The museum is prepared to unveil the truth about how an Etch a Sketch actually, well, you know, sketches. In fact, the Satan worshipers who run this museum are poised to unveil “The Inside Story” of toys.
This is simply awful. You don’t want to know all that. It’s as if they did an autopsy of Santa to show you how many rechargeable batteries he had in his pacemaker.
There should be a sense of wonder in the world. It’s enough to know that Elmo can dance; I don’t want no scientist showing me wires dangling from Elmo’s butt.
Nothing good can come from this kind of meddling curiosity. It’s one of the things wrong with both science and journalism. As President Lyndon Johnson once put it: “The fact that a man is a newspaper reporter is evidence of some flaw in character.”
Corporate boards of directors often fall victim to the same problem. Some super-curious compensation committee or another will start to ask a bunch of questions about the fancy consultant report recommending that the CEO should be making $47 trillion, instead of $37 trillion; and then the CEO gets all offended and quits and goes to work for a hedge fund, which in turn buys the company and fires everybody — all because the overly curious compensation committee couldn’t accept the mystery and awe of comp consultants.
There’s some stuff that you simply don’t want to know. For instance, the law firm Bryan Cave released survey results in May indicating that more real-estate tycoons were planning to invest in the Northeast than in any other part of the country, including the Sunbelt.
Now, if I wanted to make myself miserable, I could ask why investors would be all hot to invest in union-loving, high-tax, high-cost, environmentally difficult Connecticut than in some sunny, low-tax, no-union, fast-growing place with cowboys and stuff. But why would I do that? Elmo can dance. That’s good enough for me.
Look at all the anguish caused by the Financial Accounting Standards Board when it got curious about the estimated value of options to employees. It was enough for us to know that the corporations had our best interests in mind when they reduced earnings to pay for exercised options. Etch A Sketch is magic; that’s good enough for me.
You can make yourself all crazy getting too suspicious or curious about stuff that you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about. Ponder the old Iraqi proverb, “When you see the teeth of the tiger, don’t assume the tiger is smiling.” See the problem? Iraqis are all suspicious and stuff — and look what happened to them.
Curiosity is irritating for government, as well. In New Hampshire, for instance, your property tax assessment can include a surcharge of sorts for having a good view. The assessors say the view is an important part of property value — and it is simply more transparent process to have a “view tax.”
And how exactly is the view tax determined? There you go again. And I suppose you want to know how Elmo can dance?
You overly curious people probably wondered how your local school system was going to identify and respond to “verified instances of bullying,” as recommended in legislation at the General Assembly. Well, you nosey troublemakers, the bill didn’t pass. Are you happy now?
And there is no Santa. No Santa. And Elmo probably has a battery.
Laurence D. Cohen is a freelance writer.
