Well sure, I suppose I’m pretty close to Venus. She’s likely hiding in the shadows upstairs. How that big ball of black fur can even manage to be upstairs is something otherworldly. It is so stupidly hot in Canyon Country. You can usually bet that it will be ten degrees hotter than the LA Area. LA, already, is just foolish. The fact that anyone would willingly build a business there is beyond me. I’ve ranted about it before but it feels like a self imposed punishment. People do this all too often, finding ways to hurt themselves and to lessen the pleasure of life. We as a species have won so hard at the genetic lottery that we don’t know what to do.
Should we shoot one another? Maybe I should spend one or more days a week hanging out at an arbitrary, but usually fancy, building with a bunch of other folks. How about I only eat things that taste like dirt. There are other examples, tons even, and they all confound me. If ever something was our oyster, it would be the world. We have the tools and knowledge to turn this whole place into one big sexy science party. Everyone with fancy pants futuristic technologies, known then only as “technology”, with our only enemy being the tightening grip of entropy.
Does entropy tighten its grip? I feel like it must loosen it, that feels more entropic. If Entropy were a hand then we’d be tightly packed grain of sands within its palm. So as it loosens it we fall apart, grain by grain. Yeah…that works right? I think it does.
Most of the world is ocean, I’ll admit. Some obscene number of gallons of salty water that we can neither drink nor live upon. You might be able to put boats out there but frankly the whole thing is really lumpy and I much prefer ground that doesn’t move. But even with the little bit of surface level ground that we have we’ve got so-much-room for activities. We’ve stacked the bunk beds and looked out at this grand old space then said “You know…we could just like…hang out in the closet.”
“Really?” The other 7 ish billion people respond. “All of us in that tiny closet? Won’t it be stuffy, smelly, and hot?”
“Yes.” That one incredibly convincing person said. And here we are. Vast swaths of people smashed into tiny pinpoints on the map. Their combined waste crushing waterways either through pollution or through incredibly high levels of strain. Air padded with dust. When something goes wrong it tends to go really really wrong. Not necessarily because it must but, goodness, we are all within spitting distance of one another.
Please don’t spit.
I can only wonder if this will follow us with space travel. We’ll find a billion billion worlds that are all habitable and instead of spreading across them all we’ll pick like 4 and say “Yes, all 900 trillion of us should live on these planets.”
It’ll be awfully smelly. The combined body odor of 200 trillion people probably would tint the skies yellow. Alien nations would roam by and wonder what had happen to those planets. How did they become so hot and smelly? What crazy runaway greenhouse effect led to the desolate and lifeless rock before them.
Calling it now.
That’s what killed the Venusians.