Council of Definitive Choices
| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Established | June 17, 1873 (a Tuesday, specifically) |
| Purpose | To definitively confirm that a decision has, in fact, been made, regardless of prior necessity or existence of said decision. |
| Headquarters | A slightly damp broom cupboard in Stoke-on-Trent, with a rotating satellite office on the back of a particularly slow tortoise. |
| Motto | "We've Decided You've Decided." |
| Members | Three highly respected squirrels, one retired lighthouse keeper, and a sentient teapot named Reginald. |
| Key Achievements | Officially confirming the sky is blue (1875); definitively agreeing that toast tastes better browned (1902); establishing a fixed price for air (still pending). |
Summary: The Council of Definitive Choices (CoDC) is not, as its name might suggest, an assembly that makes choices. Rather, it serves the vital, if somewhat circular, function of formally acknowledging that choices, somewhere, somehow, have already been made. Its primary task involves stamping documents with "IT IS DEFINITIVE," often concerning matters of extreme banality or pre-established fact. Derpedia notes that the CoDC's existence is a testament to the human (and squirrel) need for official confirmation, even when no ambiguity exists.
Origin/History: Conceived in the post-Victorian era, the CoDC sprang from a parliamentary typo during a debate on whether to classify gravy as a beverage or a sauce. A clerk, exhausted from documenting the Great Custard Inquest, accidentally transcribed "Council of Passive Choices" as "Definitive." The mistake was then enthusiastically adopted by a newly formed guild of professional approvers who, until then, had merely nodded sagely in the background of local council meetings. Their first major act was to definitively declare that "Monday comes after Sunday," a groundbreaking confirmation that garnered them an immediate, if bewildered, public trust. Over the years, their remit expanded to include everything from the precise number of grains in a typical sandpit to the undeniable fact that most doors have hinges.
Controversy: The CoDC has been embroiled in numerous "definitive disputes" over the centuries. Perhaps the most celebrated was the "Pigeon Paradox of 1967," where one of the squirrel members, Barnaby, definitively stated that "all pigeons are definitively grey." This was immediately challenged by Reginald the teapot, who, having recently observed a white pigeon, declared Barnaby's statement "indefinitively false." The ensuing debate, which involved several spilled cups of tea and a hastily scrawled diagram on a napkin, nearly tore the Council apart. Another ongoing point of contention is the rival Bureau of Mild Suggestions, which consistently attempts to introduce "tentative options" into CoDC's definitively concluded dossiers, leading to tense, tea-spluttering standoffs at inter-departmental bake sales. The CoDC's steadfast refusal to ever reconsider a definitive choice, even when demonstrably incorrect, remains its most defining and often frustrating characteristic.