Tuesday, July 11, 2006
De-Evolution
I have been thinking about Evolution lately. It has been in the news of late, due to the controversy over Intelligent Design. It seems that a rift is developing between those who believe in evolution, like myself, who are called Evolutionists, and those who believe in Intelligent Design who are called morons. Lately, I have begun to worry about Evolution. Not that I am doubtful of it's existence; I am a man of science. (You all know science? That big batch of voodoo whose facts always get in the way of faith.) I am beginning to worry about our intervention in evolution.
That's right, our intervention. We all do it...yes you…don’t shake your head! OK, I'll prove it. Here's a quiz:
Question: Who was the King of the Jungle?
(clue: it's not me.)
Answer: It was the Lion.
Why? Because nothing killed the lion. (except maybe insecure men with big guns and small penises) Lions ruled. They had nothing to fear and were living the life of Riley. Now?...Endangered Species!
Who's the king now?...Easy. The house cat! That's right...People will do anything to save a cat. They'll jump in front of a moving vehicle. Run into a burning building. Spend 10 grand for cornea replacement surgery. All for their cat. Dogs may be our best friends but when it comes to our cats, we are their bitch! A hundred years ago, that cat would have been an after dinner snack for some lion. Now it's..."Drop that cat Simba or I'll be dryin' my feet on your hide when I step out of the shower tomorrow." We have changed the evolutionary order of whole species.
Now, while house pets and wild animals are important, there is something much more significant at stake here. The future of the entire human race! That's right, we're doing it to ourselves. I'll explain...
Let's say we join Sherman and Mr. Peabody in the “Way Back Machine” and go back, say, 20,000 years. (insert your own sound effect here) Now, let's say there is this guy walking along (we'll call him Cave Dude) and he comes upon a couple of gals (we'll call one Cave Babe and the other...NeanderHag). Cave Babe is tall, slender, built out to here with a gorgeous face. The other is short, fat, buck toothed, flat as a board, with no chin and her hair is frizzy. The outcome is obvious. Darwinian evolutionary forces will take over and Cave Dude will walk up to Cave Babe and ask her out. She'll say no...He'll club her over the head...Take her, and her Hot Chick DNA, back to his cave and they'll start poppin' out good lookin' cave babies like a pre-historic Pez dispenser. And, we all take one more evolutionary step towards the perfect woman. Who is, of course, my wife, Lorna. That's right sweetie, could you get me another beer? Thanks...OK she's gone. So, maybe it's Jessica Alba or Heather Locklear but neither of them are here to get me a beer so…they miss out. Anyway...
Now, let us jump back into the "Way Back Machine" (sound effects) and return to present day. Very little has changed in 20,000 years. The process is essentially the same except instead of a club we use a Lexus and lots of Jägermeister. For instance, now a days, Cave Dude would run into the gals while walking out of a Starbucks with his DoubleDecaf MochaChaiFrapaLaWhatever. The problem is, while Cave Babe is still smokin' hot (and chocked full of those HotChick Genes of hers), NeanderHag has now had liposuction, a boob job, orthodontia, a chin implant and a major hair weave. She looks better than Cave Babe! And now she and her ugly genes are steppin’ into the Lexus and there's not a club in sight. You see, 20,000 years ago she’d be cryin’ her eyes out in the woods and eventually eaten by a pack of wild dingos having never passed on her genes. Now, thanks to $30,000 of twenty-first century cosmetic medicine, she defeats all the evolutionary trip wires we have in place. Twenty years from now, Cave Dude is sitting in his barcalounger wondering why his daughter is fat, flat chested, buck toothed, chinless and has hair that looks like something you’d find on a Cave Woman. And somewhere in a quiet corner of Westminster Abbey, Charles Darwin is rolling over in his grave. Damn you Dow Corning!
I have been thinking about Evolution lately. It has been in the news of late, due to the controversy over Intelligent Design. It seems that a rift is developing between those who believe in evolution, like myself, who are called Evolutionists, and those who believe in Intelligent Design who are called morons. Lately, I have begun to worry about Evolution. Not that I am doubtful of it's existence; I am a man of science. (You all know science? That big batch of voodoo whose facts always get in the way of faith.) I am beginning to worry about our intervention in evolution.
That's right, our intervention. We all do it...yes you…don’t shake your head! OK, I'll prove it. Here's a quiz:
Question: Who was the King of the Jungle?
(clue: it's not me.)
Answer: It was the Lion.
Why? Because nothing killed the lion. (except maybe insecure men with big guns and small penises) Lions ruled. They had nothing to fear and were living the life of Riley. Now?...Endangered Species!
Who's the king now?...Easy. The house cat! That's right...People will do anything to save a cat. They'll jump in front of a moving vehicle. Run into a burning building. Spend 10 grand for cornea replacement surgery. All for their cat. Dogs may be our best friends but when it comes to our cats, we are their bitch! A hundred years ago, that cat would have been an after dinner snack for some lion. Now it's..."Drop that cat Simba or I'll be dryin' my feet on your hide when I step out of the shower tomorrow." We have changed the evolutionary order of whole species.
Now, while house pets and wild animals are important, there is something much more significant at stake here. The future of the entire human race! That's right, we're doing it to ourselves. I'll explain...
Let's say we join Sherman and Mr. Peabody in the “Way Back Machine” and go back, say, 20,000 years. (insert your own sound effect here) Now, let's say there is this guy walking along (we'll call him Cave Dude) and he comes upon a couple of gals (we'll call one Cave Babe and the other...NeanderHag). Cave Babe is tall, slender, built out to here with a gorgeous face. The other is short, fat, buck toothed, flat as a board, with no chin and her hair is frizzy. The outcome is obvious. Darwinian evolutionary forces will take over and Cave Dude will walk up to Cave Babe and ask her out. She'll say no...He'll club her over the head...Take her, and her Hot Chick DNA, back to his cave and they'll start poppin' out good lookin' cave babies like a pre-historic Pez dispenser. And, we all take one more evolutionary step towards the perfect woman. Who is, of course, my wife, Lorna. That's right sweetie, could you get me another beer? Thanks...OK she's gone. So, maybe it's Jessica Alba or Heather Locklear but neither of them are here to get me a beer so…they miss out. Anyway...
Now, let us jump back into the "Way Back Machine" (sound effects) and return to present day. Very little has changed in 20,000 years. The process is essentially the same except instead of a club we use a Lexus and lots of Jägermeister. For instance, now a days, Cave Dude would run into the gals while walking out of a Starbucks with his DoubleDecaf MochaChaiFrapaLaWhatever. The problem is, while Cave Babe is still smokin' hot (and chocked full of those HotChick Genes of hers), NeanderHag has now had liposuction, a boob job, orthodontia, a chin implant and a major hair weave. She looks better than Cave Babe! And now she and her ugly genes are steppin’ into the Lexus and there's not a club in sight. You see, 20,000 years ago she’d be cryin’ her eyes out in the woods and eventually eaten by a pack of wild dingos having never passed on her genes. Now, thanks to $30,000 of twenty-first century cosmetic medicine, she defeats all the evolutionary trip wires we have in place. Twenty years from now, Cave Dude is sitting in his barcalounger wondering why his daughter is fat, flat chested, buck toothed, chinless and has hair that looks like something you’d find on a Cave Woman. And somewhere in a quiet corner of Westminster Abbey, Charles Darwin is rolling over in his grave. Damn you Dow Corning!
// posted by Chris @ Tuesday, July 11, 2006
