another arts & crafts night: a study in 21st century imperialism

I've been on night float again for the past two weeks. As was witnessed in my last blog post about the paper doll show choir, I get bored and do weird things at work, especially at night. During the night, I experience a unique combination of boredom, sleep deprivation, and poorly-controlled Attention-deficit disorder that is equal parts random, creative, and beautiful. So its Sunday night in the hospital. The flu and RSV seasons are winding down and we have a lot of free time. This time, my equally random friend/co-resident Umang was around. The floor she was covering was even slower than mine. So of course, we decide to do what seems to be the only natural thing to do as a a grown man and pediatrician training at one of the best children's hospitals in the nation. We decide that we wanted to do some Arts & Crafts. So first, we take stock of our resources. There is a large, cardboard box from a local sandwich shop in which the Chinese food from the night from before was delivered that I kept. I don't know why I kept it, I just knew at the time that there was something different about the box. Something worth keeping. Something special about that box. And little did we know, that box would change our lives forever.

I can't really figure out how it happened, but before we knew it we were fully occupied with creating a diorama. And not just any diorama -- a diorama of awesomeness. A diorama of truth. A diorama of extreme liberal bias based on pure nonsense. And this is the greatness that was created:
As you can see, this is the diorama. But it ain't you're momma's "shoebox diorama" you made in elementary school with some rocks and plastic dinosaurs that was an excuse to sniff rubber cement. This is a bold, in-your-face diorama for the MTV generation (even though the MTV generation is in its 20-40s and has no reason to care about dioramas). As you can obviously tell, it is the moon. And of course, on the moon you find the Pink Panther, Optimus Prime, and Marvin the Martian. We kind of randomly decided who would be on the moon. But once thewe got midway through, we realized that there was really only one story that could be told. I wrote the story that is on the side panels and reproduced below, but I really think that it wrote itself. And yes, that is an orchestra pit in the front.

In the middle of the 21^st century, earth’s oil and fossil fuel resources had become depleted by 200 years of automobiles, airplanes, pottery kilns, hairdryers and all-night roller disco jams. The earth’s international superpowers and oil conglomerates, led by the Pink Panther, realized that something must be done. After years of suppressing alternative energy technology and research, clean energy was not online. Deciding against clean energy and the resultant drop in oil conglomerate stock prices, they chose to follow the lure oil to the next closest celestial body – the moon. The moon was the perfect resource. It had large untapped oil reserves. It was close enough that the Alaskan oil pipeline, which extended deep into the depths of the Bering Sea, could be moved and extended to create an easy conduit to transport the black gold. But alas! Upon the team’s arrival on the surface of the moon, they found a vast and complex vacation community built by Martians that dwarfed mid-21^st century Boca Raton. The Martians loved the moon for its rocky and cratery beauty and its expansive views of the earth and other cool things in space. The Martians, ages ahead of the earth’s civilizations in clean energy technology and love of planet, didn’t need the oil. They loved the moon for what it was, a large satellite that may or may not have been composed entirely of cheese. This left the earth’s superpowers with a delicate question – what to do with the moon. They could choose to change, to choose life over death, to create rather than to destroy. But to do such would fly in the face of history, years stained by the blood of the oppressed whose only mistake was being native to areas of great resources. But alas! The momentum of years past is too great, and the decision is made to strip the moon of its oil by whatever means necessary. With any such endeavor, a strong showing of military force is necessary to ensure indigenous compliance. The Pink Panther recruits Optimus Prime and his merry band of Autobots who, having defeated Megatron and the Decepticons once and for all, have little left to do besides race NASCAR and scare small children. The Autobots are up to the challenge and accompany the colonizing party, which ironically is headed by The Pink Panther himself after he steps down as Secretary General of the United Nations and his part time job as pitching coach for the New York Mets. And thus we arrive at the our present scene, one that will surely be remembered by mankind, pantherkind, robotkind, and Martiankind alike. Will the Pink Panther purchase the oil with the blood and tears of the Martians? Will Marvin and the Martians allow themselves to be destroyed or will they fight back, martialling together their collective power to protect their homes (and likely moon cheese)? Will Optimus Prime sacrifice his deeply seated robo-ethics to kick some Martian butt? Hard questions require hard answers, and only in searching our own hearts will we ever find the truth.

And now it all makes sense. The lawn chair and tiki bar. The surprised look on Marvin's face as he is frightened for both his lawn chair and moon cheese. The Pink Panther's smug superiority. The Houston Oilers-inspired oil derrick in the background. In all truthfulness, I hope that people will really think about the message and make steps toward a cleaner future. They don't even have to be big steps, or even real steps. You could start with doing a google search of the Toyota Prius. Look up what Arbor day is. Coast down hills in your car. Wear the color green. Admire a tree. Better yet, make your own diorama trying to get people to change. If this diorama leads to another diorama, which leads to another diorama and so forth, imagine what could happen. The world wouldn't be big enough to contain these dioramas. Everybody would be coloring and taping things. Rubber cement would be flying off the shelves. And maybe, just maybe, the world would be a better place.

Like raising a child or being a village, it takes a village. Many people's thoughts, efforts, and managerial duties went into this project, and I would be remiss if I didn't give credit where it is due.

Credits:

• Umang: taping skills, obtainer of random supplies from hospital floors, set design
• Cheryl: making the chair and tiki bar from nothing, doing medical stuff when necessary to give others protected "craft time", provider of Disney music to listen to during "craft time"
  
• Clay: casting, downloader of things from the internet, coloring, staff writer, cleanup
• Michelle the Med Student: team leader, taping the title at the end, general encouragement, asking relevant medical questions to remind us that we were doctors, reminding us of youtful optimism
  

It was an inspired project and inspiring night. I'm pretty sure I felt just like Van Gogh did at the end of painting Starry Night, if Starry Night had actually been a wicked sweet diorama. And of course, no children were harmed in the making of this diorama. Finally, a few more random pics:


Optimus Prime is ready to mix it up. Turns out, he isn't doing it for the money. He's doing it for the moon cheese. And those craters are in fact paper cups from the cafeteria that I put ketchup and BBQ sauce in.

Poor Marvin, all he wants to do is hang out in his lawnchair and sip virgin strawberry daiquiris while reading the latest issue of The New Yorker. Oh well.