“Do you know why I pulled you over?” asked the officer with a dazed look in his eyes. “Seriously, I have no idea. Help me out here.”

“License and registration please,” he demanded while holding your license and registration papers in his hands. “Do you know how fast you were going? Fuck if I know.”

“Where am I?” he asked, before muttering some gibberish into his radio. “What country am I in? What year is it? Is Victor Serge still alive? God, dear God…Where am I??”

At press time, a philosopher-cop didn’t even know why people should be pulled over in the first place.