A conversation with Dark Sarcasm
Yes, I’m in one of those moods I call “Dark Sarcasm.”
That happens when I wake up with a nightmare. All I can remember about it is that being chased by gingerbread men with machine guns is far preferable to waiting for death by virus.
God, the universe, or whatever; I’m back again, trying to make sense of the senseless.
You have a question.
I’m awake at 3 in the morning after having yet another nightmare. Can you explain why we humans keep shooting ourselves in the foot?
Sure. If you shot yourselves anywhere else, like your head, you’d die.
Remember the adage that anyone who is not a good steward of a little will not be a good steward of a lot?
I live that fiasco every day. I’m sorting taxable receipts and looking at all the worthless crap I’ve purchased in the past year while drinking vanilla roobius tea. When I had half the income, I was drinking the dollar store brand. I see my own foibles, and they’re miniscule in comparison to what governments are doing to us.
Tell me about your nightmare.
Let’s see…a university in North Carolina develops a virus that they gave, or sold, to China. China was weaponizing it so that it would have a kill rate of 90%, but now it’s circulating the world because one person left the lab with a hitchhiker. China is bent because it only has a 15% kill rate. Tell me again why you gave us free will?
For the same reason you’re having nightmares. Humans are like the thirteen-year-old who thinks he knows everything. This parent simply said, “Bye,” and walked out the door. You‘re now finding the milk in your fridge is sour, all you have left are the instant potatoes, the electricity was shut off for non-payment, and you can’t even flush the toilet.
Is that the same thing as shooting ourselves in the head?
Worse. You aren’t asking for my help, you’re demanding free food, free education, free health care and free housing from the same people who are creating pandemics.
Was the story of Pandora’s box true?
It’s a primitive explanation but, yes. Humans can’t take “no, don’t go there,” for an answer. I say, “Don’t open that box of viruses,” and what do you do? You open the box in a lab and redesign the contents.
So then…basically, we’re screwed?
Don’t say I didn’t provide ample warning.
Nothing left to do but pet a dog, write, and wonder how many times we’ve tried to kill ourselves off in the past and didn’t succeed.