Some time ago, my son had a minor obsession.  Whether at the dinner table, in the car, or out for a walk, he was constantly peppering us with “would you rather” questions.  You know the ones I mean, where you are forced to choose between two equally bizarre or unpleasant alternatives:

“Would you rather always have to say everything that is on your mind, or never be able to speak again?”

“Would you rather have the hiccoughs the rest of your life, or always feel like you have to sneeze but not be able to?”

And finally:

“Would you rather smell like poop and not know it, or know you smell like poop, but others can’t smell it?”