Illustration for article titled Would You Rather: Supposing Suppositories Edition

What time is it? You know what time it is: It’s time to exercise the part of your brain that does all the important stuff, like evaluating absurd options and regulating adrenaline. I think it’s the pineal gland. In other words, it’s Would You Rather Time!


So, let’s get right to it! Would you rather...

Thanks to some magic suppositories you found discarded by the air machine at a gas station, you are now impervious to traffic. That means that every time you use one of the magic suppositories (they seem to magically replenish every night or so, with an audible thunking sound) no matter where you drive, traffic will be in your favor.


I mean anywhere. For example, if you were in LA, you could go from Silverlake to Santa Monica — even on the 405 — in, like 10-12 minutes. Those suppositories are miraculous.

Oh, I probably should mention that a side effect of the suppositories is that within 5 or so minutes after your arrival at your location, you’ll have a massive bout of urgent, gut-wrenching, rainbow-colored diarrhea. There’s no way around it. Once you tried swallowing the suppository instead of, um, inserting it, and you ended up ejecting painful, rainbow vomit.

or, would you rather

The once-well-worshiped god, Mercury, has returned to Earth to make you a deal. Using his prodigious deity-powers, he can put you in charge of any automobile manufacturer you want. You can dictate company policy, come up with ideas for new models to build, change the company’s focus, start a factory racing team, anything.


Of course, there’s a catch: you can never drive or even ride in any of the cars your company makes. Due to Mercury’s vanity and terrible taste, the only car you can use is a poorly-restored 1983 Mercury Marquis.

Your cars will be all around you, yet, like the Ancient Mariner of old, it’s cars cars everywhere, but nary a drop to drive. Just that crappy Marquis, with its stupid 85 MPH speedo.


So — what’s it going to be? Traffic freedom topped by a mound of rainbow ass-ejecta, or the being the most frustrated CEO in all of automobildom?

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