Works out well for us since we got to go to the museum recently, which is comprised of all the bits and pieces of animal remains that they've found in the tar pits. We oohed and aahed over how different life was ten...twenty...thirty thousand years or ago. Didn't really work out as well for all the animals that got stuck in the tar though, as demonstrated by the life-sized installation outside the museum that depicts an adult and juvenile mammoth watching helplessly from the shore as another adult mammoth slowly sinks into the dark muck. Very uplifting, that installation.
I can admit that sometimes I feel not unlike that mammoth stuck in the tar. It was probably wondering, right after it first stepped into the tar and realized that it was in serious trouble, what the hell just happened and how did it get there when just moments before it was on perfectly solid ground. I keep thinking the same questions. How did we get to this place? It feels like just moments ago everything was going along quite smoothly and suddenly WHAM! we're stuck in the fucking tar pits.
It makes me wonder if years from now we will be in our own museum that we have named George and after roaming the halls for the hundredth or millionth time we will stumble upon the fossilized remains of the people who we were before we got stuck and the ones who we had to sacrifice to slog our way out again. We will hold hands and ask each other, "I wonder what they liked to do for fun or how they dressed?" and "Do you think they loved each other as much as we love each other now?"
"They probably had no idea what was about to happen."
"How very sad for them," We will say.
There may even be a placard with a description that reads: "They thought they were invincible."
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