INFECTION

That wheelchair guy and other great scientific minds are telling us that colonization of space is the only hope for survival of the human species.

They’ve done their calculations and charts and projections and conclude that the earth will be uninhabitable either because of nuclear war or because quickly doubling world population will fully consume or pollute earth’s life sustaining resources, soon.

We’ve fucked up planet earth, now let’s fuck up the rest of the universe.

Leaving planet earth in order to establish “civilization” elsewhere is like Ted Haggard, after getting fucked in the ass (pardon the harshness) and snorting a couple extra lines of crystal meth, going out and preaching against homosexuality.

If the human species can’t survive on this beautiful garden called earth, it doesn’t deserve to survive at all.

This is it. Last chance.

Pud thinks I’m getting rantious, but he can go fuck himself.

“Don’t worry,” Pud said calmingly, “the physics of space travel amount to a virtual quarantine of earthlings.

“To that extent you could say there actually is some sort of intelligent design. There certainly are other garden spots in the universe, but we physically can’t get to them, nor should we. It’s like an intergalactic public health measure.”

“So don’t worry,” Pud concluded, “we’re all gonna die here and take planet earth with us.”

That’s one reason I tolerate Pud, he knows how to cheer me up.

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