“Mike, look at me.”
“I am looking at you.”
“No. Look at me. What do you see?”
“Okay… I see a thirty-something software guy, balding and growing a paunch.”
“Aha, you mock me to camouflage your own glaring inadequacies, but what you have failed to notice is that you are this very moment experiencing the rapture associated with being in the presence of a paragon of human-kind.”
“Rapture. Is that what this is?”
“Yes! You see, my pathetic friend, I have come to realize in the last couple of days that I am — by any reasonable measure — a truly successful member of the species Homo sapiens.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Let’s look at me from an evolutionary perspective. I have a good, well-paying job, which affords me access to resources of whatever kind you choose to name, including mates. I have secured a breeding partner and I have produced not one but two offspring to carry my genes forward, thus doing my part to ensure the survival of the species. We are born, afterall, for the purpose of procreating. The sole purpose of life is to sustain itself and I have done exactly that by carrying out my programming with aplomb. I am a success in the most visceral sense of the word.”
Mike wrinkled up his nose and squinted. “I disagree,” he said.
“That’s because you suck.”
“No, it’s because I think you missed something.”
“Proceed.”
“A man lives in a cabin in the middle of the woods with his good lady wife. They have food and water a-plenty and life is good. They fuck. They have a baby. They die. The baby subsequently dies from lack of adequate care. Is that man a success?”
“How did they die?”
“Doesn’t matter. Bear got’em.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah. Now is that man an evolutionary success?”
“Uh, I’d have to say no.”
“Why not? He had set himself up with plenty of resources and he procreated. Bob’s your uncle. How come you’re a success and he’s not?”
“Well, he didn’t add anything to gene pool because the offspring had no opportunity to procreate.”
“Shazaam.”
“Shit.”
“That’s right buddy. The way I see it you’re not a success ‘evolutionarily speaking’ [he made the quotation mark gesture with his fingers mockingly] until your children have children. Until then you’re just working on it. To fulfill your obligation to the glorious human race, you have to shepherd your offspring to the point where they have offspring of their own. After that you’re off the hook, because you’ve done as much as you can reasonably be expected to do. The rest is up to your chil’uns. Why do you think you need access to resources, you putz? You don’t need ‘resources’ to make a baby. Two morons fucking does not make a success. You need resources in order to sustain a baby to the point where it can fuck and make its own babies. ‘Course in most societies there is a discrepancy between the age at which this is possible and the age at which it is permissible, which adds some grey area to the equation. Actually, scratch that last thing — it’s irrelevant. What’s relevant is when the child actually physically has a child of its own, not when it can. Then you can call yourself a success. How old are your kids?”
“Uh… five and three.”
“Five and three. Looks like you’ve got a few years work ahead of you, brother. My advice is to get them out meeting the ladies as early as possible. Who knows, if you do it right you might get lucky and have a grand-kid sooner than anyone expects. Then you can feel free to off yourself with a clear concience knowing that you’ve done your part to save the human race.”
tooo funny!