There once was an organisation, an administration to be precise, which put upon itself the great burden that comes with declaring oneself as an organisation, and that was to decide what it would administer. People were dying left, right, forward, and backward from dribbling diseases or icky infections, unnecessary falling off high places, and financial ruin triggering total body vegetation. None of these behaviours were healthy for the correct functioning of their species, and it was the duty of administrations to try to cork the holes in the insanity. Organisation and administration were their main production, but they lacked in other departments, so they contracted some experts who had spent a big amount of time knowing a small range of things. There was a chap who knew everything about the front-left wheels of cars (he couldn’t tell you a thing about the front-right or the rear ones), then there was a gal who had studied the recycling process of grass cuttings from Lithuanian front lawns; after her came the doctor of sandwiches but to avoid overloading their studies had constrained themselves to whole-meal seeded with two-condiment fillings. In total there were twenty specializers who pulled the organization along a twenty-dimensional decision space that they just didn’t have the human topology to densely occupy. So they wrote a cloud of words on a whiteboard and drew a few circles around these words, then saw a few Venn Diagrams in their intersections which became geometrical generalizations of Wenn Diagrams and Menn Diagrams of squares and octagons of the fourth kind, and when they stepped back they saw the full picture. The solution for all the administrative duties that had to be done under their new organization reduced to two categories: food and drugs. A small skirmish started over whether to crown their new entity as the Food and Drug Organization or the Food and Drug Administration, and Food and Drug Administration was selected after the leader of the internal FDO campaign mysteriously disappeared on her way to the water cooler.

There once was an organization, an administration to be precise, which put upon itself the great burden that comes with declaring oneself as an organization, and that was to decide what it would administer. People were dying left, right, forward, and backward from poultry poisoning or disease of the ‘mad’ variety, unnecessary chocking of large unchewed objects, and arterial combustion from financial ruin encouraging the purchasing of oil satchels passed off as prepared lunches. None of these behaviours were healthy for the correct functioning of their species, and it was duty of administrations to try to cork the holes in the insanity. Organisation and administration were their main production, but they lacked in other departments, so they contracted some experts who had spent a big amount of time knowing a small rage of things. There was a Swede who had honed his hand on the cartography of potato surfaces (yam or a parsnip geometries were certainly out of the picture), then there was a banker who had invested his entire family estate in the stock market so that he build a provably mathematical model of the buying price of the chunky-tip glitter pens; after the banker came the crow which was the world expert on sorting printed paper based on whether the ink distribution was left or right bias but expected never to scope beyond monochrome printing. In total there were thirty specializers who pulled the organization along a thirty-dimensional decision space that they just didn’t have the human topology to densely occupy. So they wrote a sea of words on a blackboard and then encoded each word using numerical sequences of three’s and five’s which they pinned all around a second blackboard according to fung shwey indicators. Squares were added that went around and between the three’s and five’s, intersecting as they pleased. Wenn Diagrams sprung before their eyes like Escherian illusions and Menn and Wenn Diagrams naturally generalized from the octagons of the fourth kind and circles teased out of the geometrical bazaar. When the deed was done and they stepped back to take a lay of the land, they saw the full picture. The solution for all administrative duties that had to be done under their new organization reduced to two categories: food administration and drug administration. An unprofessional ruckus broke out over whether to birth their new entity as the Food Administration and Drug Administration Administration or the Food Administration and Drug Administration Organization, and Food Administration and Drug Administration Organization was selected after the leader of the internal FADAA campaign lost all his teeth to lime disease while on a sail boat to Bermuda where he’d booked a rental home for a weekend on the beach.