The grating thing about unannounced or ongoing tests is not so much the surprise factor as never being quite sure what it is, exactly, that's being tested.
That suspicion intersects with another, that almost everything in and about life these days -- pick something, anything at all -- is really just meant as a test of our sanity, of how much we can take, how much craziness we can jam into the ever-closing, finite spaces all around us, and how much lunacy we can tamp down and cram in, into the potentially infinite space between our ears.
Our patience is under assault, too. I notice mine slipping further away, and at the same rate as that rising tide carrying Republican madness further up onto the beach with each tide and each wave.
But, as we all know from recent history, a rising tide lifts all yachts equally.
This is a test of critical thinking, this life, and we are sorry to report your chip installation may not have taken hold, that the skills were not booted up on the job, that your life is not working these muscles skills. Just as designed, for easier leading-around with that nose ring.
It's said the Industrial Revolution's most significant achievement was tethering humanity to a clock -- training us to punch in, and -- Presto! -- to punch out. The training today is much simpler: distract us with the shiny things, keep us off balance with the theatrical tussles and tumults of a two-party system, then ease us to unthinking sleep with teevee.
If you're still in the market for obvious examples of tests of our sanity, well, look no further than the Party of Lincoln, the Party of Eisenhower, the Republicans themselves.
Abe and Ike would mow down these moron with three sentences, once they recovered, in terrible awe, from the initial shock.