The Only Happy Ending...
You might think I'm an evil person when I say I pray for disease, but let me explain.
I mean disease on a massive epidemic scale.
I'm not a maniac.
Let me try to put this into context.
The planet is fucking teeming with us. Ripe, no, ROTTEN with humanity. It is festering with us
- it's deep concrete wounds infected worst of all. I know, we're living longer than ever before, have
more beeping and glowing technological gizmos, more hope, more knowledge.
But there's going to be an end to it all - there always is. There can only be so many of us before the fun stops in a bad way.
The way I see it, we're either going to destroy eachother in a blaze of incendiary doom
taking most of our globe with us, or nature will get the best of us first.
I have always had faith that her billion year old immune system is going to come up with
something that sticks, and frankly, it might be the lesser of two evils.
Since I can't see half of the world's population volunteering for suicide in the interests of a sustainable continuation of the human race, a deadly and uncontrollable plague might be the best way to cull our exponentially growing populous. We would perish gracefully, and with the least possible damage to the environment or our painstakingly constructed infrastructure.
I'm not saying I want it to happen any time soon - or at all, for that matter - it just seems like the only happy ending to this story. It would obviously be an unbelievably tragic ordeal but the few strong and healthy souls that prevailed would have it good. No nuclear winters to survive, no crumbling ruined expanses or souls twisted and scarred from decades of warfare and terror and death. All of our knowledge and technology and stories would be perfectly in tact for Darwin's lucky children.
It's one of my favourite feelings - that buzzing clarity you get after you survive an illness and your strength begins to return.
I mean disease on a massive epidemic scale.
I'm not a maniac.
Let me try to put this into context.
The planet is fucking teeming with us. Ripe, no, ROTTEN with humanity. It is festering with us
- it's deep concrete wounds infected worst of all. I know, we're living longer than ever before, have
more beeping and glowing technological gizmos, more hope, more knowledge.
But there's going to be an end to it all - there always is. There can only be so many of us before the fun stops in a bad way.
The way I see it, we're either going to destroy eachother in a blaze of incendiary doom
taking most of our globe with us, or nature will get the best of us first.
I have always had faith that her billion year old immune system is going to come up with
something that sticks, and frankly, it might be the lesser of two evils.
Since I can't see half of the world's population volunteering for suicide in the interests of a sustainable continuation of the human race, a deadly and uncontrollable plague might be the best way to cull our exponentially growing populous. We would perish gracefully, and with the least possible damage to the environment or our painstakingly constructed infrastructure.
I'm not saying I want it to happen any time soon - or at all, for that matter - it just seems like the only happy ending to this story. It would obviously be an unbelievably tragic ordeal but the few strong and healthy souls that prevailed would have it good. No nuclear winters to survive, no crumbling ruined expanses or souls twisted and scarred from decades of warfare and terror and death. All of our knowledge and technology and stories would be perfectly in tact for Darwin's lucky children.
It's one of my favourite feelings - that buzzing clarity you get after you survive an illness and your strength begins to return.