I have, at best, a tacit relationship with philosophy. However, I have grown comfortable in my acceptance of “the speck of dust” theory of my importance in the cosmos, and as I sit here, pondering the passing navels of the patrons in this crowded coffee shop, I find I am perplexed by the hubris of my species.

Larger brain and opposable thumb aside, we have not used our “gifts” in a way that, (to an unbiased alien observer), would ever be considered grateful. The things we have made and the tools we learned to use to make them, are primarily for our own overly-indulgent creature comfort at the expense of less gifted species, plants and the sustainability of our home planet. We have created an amorphous fantasy game of complex language, mystical deities, arbitrary geographical delineation, perplexing, pretend currency and a bullying pecking order, (Darwin be damned), where the short-term survivors may sadly be the fattest. Our propensity for self-destruction seems boundless as we war and pollute and deforest and hold fast to an unreasonable belief in our irreconcilable differences. We suicidally self-poison ourselves with pesticides and herbicides and unnaturally modified food, belching unbreathable gases into the air and lethal freaking fracking fluids into our water table. We are so short-sighted that Mr. Magoo could be our guide.

I don’t propose that my belief in our virtual insignificance should in any way prompt us to be less hopeful or engaged…quite the contrary. Surely, if Country Joe’s summation, (albeit in another context), that, “whoopee, we’re all gonna die!”, is the only certainty, wouldn’t it at least be a little more fun to do it after a happier, healthier, friendlier, more party-like journey?

(Said like an exasperated exhalation)…People!