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8/17/04 Front Page Features Ain't That America? Probe Interview McQuigly & Moss Moth's Diary Musing With Mitch Probe Poll Previous Issues Crap Shop Who's at Fault? Contact Us! |
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Aye, mateys! Get you some Daily Probe booty! 
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Natural Selection: Just Let Me Do My Job A guest Probeatorial by Natural Selection 
"What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable!" Yada yada yada. And whose work is man? That would be me, Natural Selection. And if you want to stay that way, people, you'd better just let me do my job. Let's get clear on the concept here: While the marketing department might like "survival of the fittest," the way I actually work is "death of the less fit." For the couple million years I've been working on you, do you think I let stuff like food allergies or asthma slide? Nope. We called people with food allergies "corpses." Go to the hospital to have a baby? According to my approach, you either have the baby 'naturally', or you both die. I didn't say it was nice -- but it works! See, in the good old days, you didn't need vaccines, because I made damn sure that, if you couldn't survive, for example, a little smallpox -- follow me here -- you didn't get to breed! Out of the gene pool! Multiply the things that can kill you by a thousand, and you can see how, over the millennia, you got to be the tough, ruthless bastards you were in ancient Rome and China. Remember the Conquistadors? That was me at work. Hey, if the Indians can't survive a little disease, well, it's better for everybody if they die. No hard feelings, that just how it works. Now? Oh, you've used the big brain I gave you very well. A little too well, in my opinion. Now, every Ceasarean-delivered, vaccinated asthmatic punk lives to breed. The result? An awful lot of "less fit" who are living happy, productive lives. Like I give a shit about that. Pretty soon, you people are going to be a mass of defective product, as all those traits I worked so hard to weed out spread back through the population. Good work, Homo sapiens! Because you've cut me out of the deal, you need surgery, drugs, modern agriculture, water treatment plants, and traffic lights to prevent your weakened little selves from getting killed by the millions. Already, we've got 7 billion or so of you, about 6.5 billion of whom would die tomorrow if I had my way. But, hey, there's a bright side. I'm patient. I figure either you will use your big bad brains to figure out something, or, hey, I haven't had a really good worldwide famine and plague in a long time. And all I really want is to just do my job. (Transcribed by Ishmael Alighieri) |
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or whenever we damn well feel like it. Copyright 2001-2004 / All Rights Reserved No use allowed without prior permission. |
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