Sometimes I worry that there will be peace in the future. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a war-monger. I’m just a monger. There isn’t anything I won’t monge.
But I am scared of the potential for lasting peace.
My fear is that if all wars ended tomorrow and peace was established on earth, over time humans would evolve into Spielberg-esque aliens a la Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Our bodies would begin to glisten with a light watery sheen and our skin would turn gray. We’d all become very tall and thin, lose all evidence of body hair and discernible genitalia, our eyes would be devoid of irises and grow to encompass half of our face, our mouths would shrink to an expressionless “O” and our noses would be replaced by two slits for nostrils.
We would communicate with a series of unintelligible, but slightly adorable, coos and sighs and cock our heads slightly to the left when encountering something new.
Dogs would be scared of us at first, but when we touch them on the nose with our glowing, elongated finger, they would recognize we are their friends and mean them no harm.
The extent of our creative labors will be periodically humming along to a five note melody tapped out on a keyboard by a French scientist.
If men in suits try and take us away for research, children on bicycles will always be there to help us escape.
And the sadly ironic thing is, we will be regarded as the most intelligent and advanced civilization that ever lived.
Over at The Independent Pollster
We asked over two hundred people over a period of twenty-four hours what time it was—and received some interesting results:
12% believed it was somewhere between 3:07 p.m. and 3:19 p.m.
45% believed it to be close to midnight or a little thereafter
17% believed it was between 4 and 5 in the morning and violently ejected us from their homes
19.33% stated that even though they believed it was currently 9:07 a.m., answers could vary given the time of day.
6% refused to answer, citing differentials such as time zones and current daylight savings time mandates—[if they’re so smart, why aren’t they asking the questions?—ed]
When asked the question “where are you?” the answers were even more varied.
0.00001% stated they were window shopping until it was time to pick up Barbara from her dentist’s appointment
0.00001% stated they were at the dentist
0.00001% stated they were working on a woman’s teeth
0.00003% were at home wondering when Daddy and Barbara (their step-mother, whom they’ve never really gotten along with, which is why they don’t call her “mommy”) were going to get back from the dentist and take them to Dairy Queen.
95% were on various street corners, providing answers to some asshole from a Gallup poll.
When asked the question “Do you think Gallup polls are causing a restrictive monopoly on polls and squeezing out independent salt-of-the earth working class middle-American pollsters?” the answers were quite telling.
72% said they didn’t have time to answer any more questions because they just got finished talking to the nice young man from the Gallup poll.
0.0004% said, “Face it, indie-boy, nobody cares about your little independent bullshit polls. The world is changing, my friend—either you’re part of the 21st century, or you’re little five and dime question-asking goes the way of the do-do bird.” And then they sneered and did one of those little James Spader-styled hair flips.
0.0001% said they would teach me karate if I waxed their cars.
These are all telling figures, but what do they mean? And what will they mean for future generations? Or will there be any future generations? What if that movie about melting was true?
But if our skin was slimy and we lost our genitalia and our body hair and our facial expressions—we could free the world from the slavery of opinions. . .
And I’d be out of a job.
I’m the Independent Pollster.
100% of me agrees with 100% of me.