Replace Historic Buildings with Bouncy Castles

Bouncy Castle

I’m a big fan of historical landmarks.  I love Mount Rushmore, with all the Presidents heads and goiters on prominent display.  But I have to draw the line with the efforts of local preservation societies.  They forced my hand on this latest and perhaps greatest epiphany – replacing historic buildings with bouncy castles.

Travel with me to the small town in which I live.  This wee little burg lies on the cusp of Madison, and is Mayberry-like in many ways.  Traffic is scant; the local paper is coveted for high school sports news and police reports; and everyone is well-acquainted with everyone.

The town is also home to a group of dedicated local historians, who spend countless hours researching and documenting the town’s ho-hum past.  I have no beef with that.  Most of these  historians are retired, and they’d be gaming on the couch if they weren’t archiving away.

My objection concerns the people who fight for the preservation and restoration of antiquated, crumbling structures simply because they’re old.

I call these folks “Hysteric Historians.”  They’d fight against the construction of a cancer research facility if it required tearing down a 150-year old outhouse crapped in by Confederates during the Civil War.

In my wee little town, our Hysteric Historians have set their sights on a decrepit house that is – you guessed it – old.  They’ve enlisted the help of craftsmen, financiers, and clean-up volunteers to restore this heap.

And for what purpose?  To preserve a piece of history (never mind that it is being restored with modern building materials) and to boost tourism (because most families would opt to visit an old Victorian over Disneyland.)

Now this blog is not meant for whining and kvetching, although a little seems to have leaked out.  I’d rather produce real-world, meaningful solutions.  Which is why I proposed tearing down the old house and replacing it with a bouncy castle.

Fighting Fire with First Graders

Yes, the bouncy castle, more beloved by children than Barney or high fructose corn syrup.  Put a bouncy castle in the front yard and you’ll attract urchins from across the globe.  It’s a like a dog whistle; they hear the thrum of the air compressor, and they come running.

By replacing the historical house with a bouncy castle, we could do the town some serious good:

1.  We’d replace an eyesore with eye candy.  Who gets jazzed about a Victorian House?  It’s like getting your ya-yas over a doily.  Screw the lattice work: A bouncy castle has all the primary colors, and its fat like Santa or the Michelin Man, two beloved icons of children.

2. We’d generate big bucks.  Our Hysteric Historians are hoping their white elephant will attract tourists.  If you truly want tourists, go bouncy castle. Kids would crawl across deserts or even clean their rooms to bounce in the big boy.

3.  We’d jump-start the local medical economy.  Just think of all the broken bones and concussions that would occur in the bouncy castle. Business would skyrocket for local medical practitioners.  Remember, children’s pain = bottom-line gain.

With so much upside, I requested my proposal be added to the Village Board’s agenda.  The Hysteric Historians caught wind of my conniving, and rallied their supporters for the board’s next meeting.

I countered with an army of my own.  I recruited the town’s first through sixth graders, pitching it as a civics lesson to the parents, and bribing the kids with Milk Duds.  In no time, we were three-hundred strong.

The Hysteric Historians put up a mean fight, but my troops threatened tantrums if the Bouncy Castle wasn’t built. It passed with a unanimous vote.

The next day, killer dozers demolished the haggard old heap.  Several Hysterics chained themselves to the front porch, but my kid-army pelted them with water balloons until they finally scampered off.

The Bouncy Castle Subdivision

As expected, bouncy castle business boomed.  Local streets gridlocked with minivans from faraway lands. Businesses thrived, including the insurance guy who was making a killing on bouncy castle rider policies.

Then, wouldn’t you know it, the wheels came off yet another epiphany.

A local yokel took a page out of my capitalist playbook and rented his own bouncy castle.  Soon overflow from the town bouncy castle migrated to his place.  His neighbor then followed suit, and soon subdivisions were blanketed in bouncy.

All the competition spread revenue too thin.  Homeowners panicked, and decided to build bigger and better bouncy castles to rekindle interest. They maxed out their home equity loans, which naturally prompted bankers to lend even more.  It played out like a painful rerun of the 2008 housing imbroglio, and we prompted a worldwide re-recession.

The town was forced to close its bouncy castle.  I simply couldn’t bear to see it go.  As they were about to deflate the beast, I placed a call to the Hysteric Historians.  “They’re threatening to take away a piece of our town’s past,” I pleaded.

“We’ll be right over,” they replied.  “Any idea how we can handcuff ourselves to hot air?”

Photo by RobotSkirts

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