Museums - Shouldn't They Be More Accomodating?

We’ve all been there: The Museum. Of course, as a hygienic and handsome member of society I do enjoy the occasional visit to a museum, or “house of fancy stuff” as the unwashed sectors of the populace refer to them. There’s no doubt that museums serve important purposes, like harboring paintings by dead schizophrenics, keeping hideous modern sculptures out of our public parks and restrooms, and providing a location for dates with women who are always saying that all you like to do is watch action movies and yell at the neighbor’s fat children for no reason aside from the fact that they’re fat, and you need to prove them (the women, not the fat children) wrong when they say you lack depth of character, hypothetically speaking. So, everything’s hunky-dory, right? Not right.
For all their glitz – the columns, the windows, the high school dropout employees wearing suits – museums lack a couple important amenities, like heart, and more importantly, an abundance of comfortable chairs in every room. Once upon a time I visited a gigantic and huge museum in a little town called Paris (I won’t say which museum, I don’t want to namedrop), and I found that I was having a serious problem: the problem of very tired legs and feet that don’t want to walk.
“That problem doesn’t seem too serious, Guiles” you might say. Bullshit. A man cannot effectively absorb culture if his feet are sprouting blisters and his legs are full of aches. What’s more, I find feigning interest in the thousandth painting of an unattractive woman in a state of unerotic undress becomes exponentially more difficult the less comfortable I am.
Fortunately for the world I’ve got a foolproof solution (what else is new?). Every museum simply needs to obtain a fleet of luxury wheelchairs, the kind that people of intellect deserve. Leather upholstery, hydrogen powered, dual cup-holders, and etcetera. This way people like me can enjoy museums under optimum conditions. What’s more, should one find himself driven to sleepiness as a result of the draining strain of cultural intake he can simply roll himself to a secluded corner (museums have lots of these – they’re mostly for making out with people who are under the impression that you’re sophisticated) and have a nap. Think about it, this could change the world. With more cultural knowledge the disparity between the average “Die Hard: With a Vengeance” watching person and the average contestant on “Jeopardy!” will begin to be eliminated, making it more likely that you might win two thousand dollars for asking someone “Géricault?” when you overhear them talking about tubercular infections.