Huckabee…what a scary, scary option.
If you didn’t think so before, you ought to now. Huckabee plans to amend the constitution to “fit god’s standards.”
I still can’t decide if this would make his nomination a positive thing (provided most of America thinks this is batshit insane backwards theocracy-talk) or negative (provided most of America ARE batshit insane backwards theocracy-hoping hate-mongers).
Unfortunately, the Right was right (PDF warning). After the legalization of gay marriage in 2075 in the United States, all hell broke loose. Bill Turnip, from Akron, OH, after a marriage of 5 years to Steve Turnup, decided he wanted more freedom in his relationship, and around the age of 43, began to carry out a relationship with his 4 year old milk cow, Stacy. The gay lifestyle was simply a gateway lifestyle towards heterosexual bestiality. After filing for divorce with Steve, bill began to petition for a marriage license with Stacy, who through the aid of a cow whisperer, acknowledged consent. Bill was turned down by the state of Ohio for a marriage license, so he began a grassroots campaign for the legalization of heterosexual man-beast marriage. By use of the Legalization of Gay Marriage Act as his basis for argument, he worked his way up to the supreme court. Those who opposed him simply said, “What’s next, homosexual man-beast marriage?” to argue their dissent.
Announcement– We are proud to announce the foundation of the Doomsday Laser Institute. Our mission is to wax poetic on the past, point fingers at those who caused the tragic moments in history who have put us in the hellhole in which we now reside, and ride the wave of our self righteous beliefs towards the betterment of the world at large. The DDL Institute is comprised of fellows who do not necessarily specialize, but certainly criticize economic policy, democratic societies, the benefit and cost of free market societies, and individual liberty. We understand the need to have a shallow targeted view of mankind, and that the acceptance of pluralism only leads to unions, communists, and the dilution of O’Re-lly’s Plan For the Future. We certainly won’t offer any solutions ourselves, for all of life’s answers are already writ.
(The View of the DDLI do not represent those of Doomsdaylaser.com, we just felt the need to seek ways and means to legitimize our narrow view of the world)
So collective intelligence began to wane with the cell phone. Or in some circles, waned more greatly. Either way the waning saved us. In the end it saved us. It will not happen during your generation, the precipice of collective intelligence on a mass scale. You worked and worked and worked. Beginning with Marathon running and dying, and ending with the internet, you have wanted to be connected. Intelligence in the nounular sense, as a set of data, is a god that slowly crept into power over the millennia of human history, and here we have it, around the year 2000 the convergence of the various ways this demon infiltrated the god fearing. TV, Cell phones, AOL, google, myspace. . . these were the points of convergence for intelligence as data. But as anything is introduced to a collective, it is diluted. The value of the intelligence hit its precipice around 2100, with the diluting factors (See two sentences previous) hitting a critical density.
Memory, Reason, Sense of Direction, Etiquette, Patience, and Creativity have all been affected by this device, which has deviously been handed down to us by extraterrestrial beings in order to speed the slope of our decay. See as follows:
(1) Memory. When was the last time you had someone’s phone number memorized? Right, you just scroll through the menu for their name, and poof, there they are!
(2) Reason. Come on now, you hardly ever bother making decisions for yourself anymore, you simply pick up the phone and call Bruce, who’s screaming down the highway at 95 miles an hour with his blue tooth headset, simultaneously googling directions, changing the radio station, talking to you, and least important, steering his vehicle with his one free knee, in order to ask him whether you should order the cheese fries or the Middle Eastern Platter.
(3) Sense of Direction. Well, this comes straight from #2. Why bother planning your route when you can just call Sue’s house and amidst the barking dogs and howling frat boys downing forties, get your directions (updated by the second) to the keg party six blocks from your home? Sure, she won’t mind if you call back ten times because you missed the exit or that last turn, or you spilled your coffee on your lap so you’re going to be late…
(4) Etiquette. Late. Always late. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30.” Which means you might be there by 8:45, depending on traffic, how long it takes you to get out of the shower, and what’s currently on the Sci Fi Channel. You don’t need to be there on time, because you can just pick up the phone (while you’re still in your underwear, on the couch, eating Cheetos, watching Stargate) and tell Bruce that you’ve hit a spot of traffic, and you’re on your way. What’s more, twenty minutes later, when you’re actually in the car, you can call back and explain that you spilled your coffee, almost ran over a woman and child, and can’t find parking “anywhere in your neighborhood. You should totally move.”
Oh, and also, since we’re talking etiquette, using your “inside voice” as my elementary school teachers used to say, has been replaced with using that peculiar voice which speaks to everyone on the train whether they want to listen to your boring conversation or not.
5) Patience and Creativity. Hand in hand, I think. Take a look on the subway and you might notice a decline in the number of folks reading books, reading anything for that matter. If the train is below ground you can bet the moment it surfaces ten people surrounding you will whip out their BeepBooBopBooBeepBeeps and start texting, calling, mobiling, etc. “Hey. What’s up? Where you at? Uh-huh. Yeah. Mhm. Just chillin. Riding the CTA. Mhm.” No need to write poetry or entertain the mind with great literature when you can just chat about absolutely nothing with your best bud for an hour in the loudest voice imaginable (see number 4).
In the morning, I awoke to the sounds of mutant pigeons clawing their way through the last of my provisions. Shewing them away had no effect, and their superpigeon strength was no match for my feeble dehydrated self. I quickly gathered what I could that was not in their grasp already, and fled for parts unknown.
What seemed like days later, I arrived at a bunker I had not seen before. It was marked in red spray paint with the numbers “457,” and a crude drawing of what might be a human skull.
Upon closer examination, I noticed that the bunker door was ajar. Gathering courage, and rubbing desert sand through my fingers, I pried the door the rest of the way open and went inside…
