Open Letter To The Modern World

Dear Modern World,

Thank you for everything. As a human, which is still an animal by the way, we have one basic drive, survival. And, we’ve basically cured it. Hooray. We did it. We no longer have primal fear and purpose. So now what? Oh, you know, just wandering around the planet, which we’re killing by the way, hoping to find a purpose. You know, like the one we cured.

We’ve made medicine to cure every ailment. We’ve invented depression, then invented pills to cure it. Do you know who isn’t depressed? People running for their lives from pterodactyls. We spend our days trying to live our best lives, right? Do you know when we were living our best lives? When we were running from pterodactyls. That, that, was our best life.

You didn’t think about going back to college to get a degree in data science or marketing, no, your second act consisted of waking up and running, yet again, from pterodactyls. Maybe you would eat. Maybe. You bludgeoned a creature to death with a rock, tied to a stick, with the hair of another dead creature. You made it yourself. Then you ate it. You skulked around the plains, or the watering hole. You kept a sharp eye on the sky for pterodactyls, and waited to maybe bludgeon something for dinner. Nowadays, that’s called artisanal and/or farm to table. And, no one can afford any of it. Cheers to oppressive credit card debt.

You lived in mortal fear, constantly in fight or flight mode, until you got eaten by, you guessed it, pterodactyls. But that wasn’t purposeful enough. So, we started making things. Making things like spaceships, televisions, and healthcare coverage. Look at us go. Wow whee.

Now? Now, we take pills to have sex. Do you know who didn’t have to take pills to have sex? The guy running from pterodactyls. Because running from your boss on a Friday, at your boring job, to make Happy Hour, with your other miserable co-workers is not the same as running for your life from pterodactyls.

When you made it into your cave, and didn’t get eaten, your heart was pounding, your senses were firing. Your special cave lady never looked better. And, and, she was happy to see you. And everyone’s sex organs worked just fine because you were alive and celebrating just that.

Speaking of celebrating, the thrill of the hunt is gone. Maybe you’re going to eat, maybe you aren’t. There wasn’t a wealth of artificial food at our fingertips. Contains 5% juice. Cool. Do you know what the diet craze was back then? Eating to survive.

You sent your best tribespeople to hunt. Maybe they’d come back, maybe they wouldn’t. If they came back with food, they were celebrated heroes. There was a feast, everyone danced, ate, and loved each other because you were happy to be alive. Now, we’re not. When you go out to get lunch for everyone, you’re not a hero, you’re just the guy who forgot Trevor’s Coke. Thank you for that.

In closing, our modern, convenient, world is great. It’s so great that I can’t wait to wake up every morning with debilitating, crushing, depression and anxiety. At the same time, mind you, while trying to find a purpose, trying to find a mate, trying to find the feeling of being alive. Thank you for making everything so easy that all I want to do is die. Glad I have pills to numb it.

Yours Truly,

Michael

PS – I liked going to the video store, thanks for taking that away too.

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