I’ve been whining incessantly about the downward slide of humanity.  I’m sure my friends have had enough of my obsession with the topic, even as it surfaces more and more frequently, whether I bring it up or not.  The downward spiral, the bowl-clearing loo eddy, (clockwise or counter, depending on your equatorial locale), has been just gradual enough that only a few, by global population numbers, have felt the desperation of trying to gain purchase on the grip-less porcelain bowl of our extinction.  Lately, people who have merely tolerated my dour soapbox rants, have, without prompting, offered their own doomsday rhetoric to the over-expanded file in my brain.  Stuff like, “Who cares?  Humans are the only species that the planet would be better off without.” and, “We began our path to extinction a moment after the Big Bang, but who would have thought we’d be the generation to witness it?” or, “We are sooooooo fucked!”

I have, of late, been transitioning from drooling rage to moronic fits of giggling.  Big brains, indeed!  The most basic one-celled organism has better survival skills.  We are deniers and shirkers and our tacit acceptance of special dominance is, with very little research, gigglable.  I suppose, the last vestiges of holding out hope is ingrained in a strand or two of DNA, but I’m ready to tap the mat.  I don’t like being in a country with 70 million hate-filled assholes, 214 of them in Congress, another 50 befouling the Senate, with state after state legislature polluted beyond Super Fund clean-up capability.  The world at large is certainly no better.  We have universally failed at peace, kindness and as Darwin’s thesis continues to play out, if any list keepers remain, we will be listed with the less fit.