I don’t know if it’s because I’m a pedestrian that I notice it more, but I’m concerned about the growing number of people I see that are having trouble raising their foot one after another, they seem to be only able to drag them along! I am concerned about the evolution of humanity.
I’ve known a lot of people that say they were born in the wrong time. I had a girlfriend who felt she should have been born in the 40s, but mostly I think because she wanted to only wear pants like Katherine Hepburn. I have a magician friend who wishes that he was born in the 1800s when conjuring was a young, elegant, theatrical art. Me, I think I should have been a caveman.
First of all I don’t much care about stuff. I think a rock to sit on, a fire to keep warm and maybe a small cave for “me” time would suit me just fine. I like the idea of not being attached to anything and there’s plenty of rocks, small caves and although I’m sure fires were much harder to start back then, manageable. So I could move at a moment’s notice. And I’m sure that happened. A lot.
I’d like to be in a culture where what I owned wouldn’t be the barometer of my worth. I’d really like to put the whole ‘sense of humor is the most important quality in a man’, for women, to the test. Of course the bigger dudes would still probably win out, but amongst us shorter specimens I’d like to find out if the producer who has no talent but controls the money could get anywhere if he was just trying to dangle a piece of bone in front of a girl’s eyes instead of some shiny bauble. Versus my making her laugh after a long day of hunting and gathering.
I also like the idea of there being a lot of free time and without not much really going on, we could really focus on “why we’re here?”
What were those early conversations like?
Caveman One: So this is pretty great, huh, being alive?
Caveman Two: If you call constantly being chased by predators, in competition for available food and the constant itching from these furs great, I guess.
Caveman One: Hmm. I need to ponder that. I’ll be in my cave.
Of course, I feel it goes without saying that it would be great to never have to shave, never have to worry about obesity due to running from stuff and no junk food, as well as not having to worry about anything “clashing.”
Although I really only have jeans and t’s, a small studio apartment where only my laptop really matters, and the only thing I really end up clipping a lot is the hair in my ears and nose. So I guess I’m fine right here.
Time for the self-employed guy to chat with cyberspace.
If our bodies change to evolve, will people’s thumbs start getting smaller to make texting easier?
Potato chips are made from potatoes, corn chips are made from corn, why aren’t sun chips slices of the sun?
Since the dawn of time man has recognized that the opposable thumb was a step in evolution that allowed us to create what we now have. But where has it gone from there?
It seems that since our modern age affords us ease and not the same need to work with our hands as much as we once did, our left hands have become much weaker. This is evidenced by the inability of drivers to use their turn signal.
We don’t have to yell and scream at predators or to get the attention of our tribe, which has resulted in the weakening of our throat muscles. That is why it’s very difficult to say “excuse me” when reaching for something in front of someone at the grocery store.
We don’t have the same need we once had for having a wide gaze and being aware of predators, and are primarily focused on the screens in front of us. So we can only see the traffic in front of us and not the people about to enter the crosswalk as we make a turn.
We don’t have the same need to walk lightly and sneak up on our prey so we can only walk barely lifting our feet and clomping or shuffling along lazily.
We also don’t have to hear oncoming redactors and therefore our hearing has diminished and we must yell into our cell phones.
We don’t have to run from approaching enemies, we don’t have to hunt and gather, we don’t have to walk to move our homes…that’s why we’re all SO FREAKIN’ FAT!
I started to lose my hair in my 20s and, as comedians do, I tried to compensate with humor. I told people that my losing my hair was akin to being higher on the evolutionary chain as eventually we would all be hairless little bald guys like the aliens in Close Encounters of The Third Kind.
But the fact is, Darwin got it wrong. The evolutionary path depicted in the photo above is not true. Because, even though I have all but lost nearly all the hair on my head, it’s popping up everywhere else. The hair on my ears sprouts like a chia pet given sugar water, it’s there before I can see it. And the ones in my nose, yikes, they come sprouting out and duel with my mustache hairs before I can catch them with the nose diggers. I don’t know if that’s the technical term, but let’s face it, that’s the device’s only purpose.
And my back. Come on! How in the world can I reach back there and hit that exact spot with a razor blade? It’s just in, from what I can tell, three of four areas. And for some reason, the water pats it down so it doesn’t get removed. I’m very flexible and I can reach the spot, but the little suckers (actually when I remember, they’re already kind of long) can’t decide if they want me to go with the grain or against. It’s a conspiracy. How can I get a girlfriend, who might want to take care of it for me, when I have these little patches that make me look like a Halloween costume where I used too much spirit gum because I wanted to get an authentic Planet of the Apes look and not just buy a costume?
The worst thing might be, that I keep catching myself in windows as I walk through Long Beach, and I’m starting to slump. I immediately adjust it, but it has to be a conscious decision. I’m worried.
And I’ve been craving bananas.