The Mosquito Race

I haven't mentioned the mosquito problem until now because I assumed it was so obvious that you'll certainly fix it for Earth 2.0. I can't wait any longer. As I try to write this, itchy ankles compete for my attention and invariably win. Thus, my writing is taking twice as long as it would had the mosquito race found a better way to socialize with the human race.

Think of all the time we spend applying mosquito repellent, swatting the pests, scratching their bites, and talking trash about them to anyone who'll listen -- time that could be better spent honoring you, worshiping you and singing your praises. I imagine some people even use the mosquito issue to question if you're a kind God, or even if you exist. Why take a colossal risk like that? To weed out the spiritual weaklings? Maybe you know something I don't know. One thing I do know is that I see a dead mosquito floating in my wine glass. I suppose the red liquid looked like blood.

Okay, I'll come to the point. If you insist on keeping the mosquito race, give them the same qualities as the fly race. Let 'em buzz about and annoy us, but don't give them a compelling reason to suck human blood. However, if blood-sucking mosquitoes are a non-negotiable, then make it clear that they will not attack vegetarians or people who volunteer at animal shelters. We'd all feel better if we knew we had some control over life's irritations.

15% Too Intelligent

Driving from Boston to North Carolina on I-95 recently, I passed through some very large cities. I was mesmerized by high-rise apartment complexes in New York City that seemingly had no end, and the constant drone of cars and trucks whizzing to their destinations for hundreds of miles. After two days of driving, I was fortunate enough to spend a day in the country. Among the few signs of life were two dogs playfully chasing each other in a back yard that sloped toward a lake. They seemed perfectly happy with their simple lifestyle, which got me wondering how the most intelligent species on the planet could have made life so complex -- and, in some cases, so miserable.

Then it occurred to me that perhaps we're too intelligent for our own good. I'm guessing 15% too intelligent. If you made the human brain 15% smaller on Earth 2.0, we might be 15% less likely to make a mess of things. We'd also probably be 15% less greedy, 15% less jealous, and 15% less tempted to cause trouble for ourselves or others. I'll let you weigh these benefits against the drawbacks of being 15% less human.

Wait a minute! It might all come down to the fact that we procreate 15% more than we should. If it's easier for you, simply make men and women 15% less attractive in the new world. Give the women mustaches and the men one eyebrow. At the very least, that ought to cut down on congestion along the I-95 corridor.

Betrayed By Hunk of Metal

I've been reflecting quite a bit about last week's crash of my computer's hard drive. For the first two days, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my body. Well, I was clearly out of my comfort zone, anyway. As a writer by profession, I felt personally betrayed by my dead hard drive -- the keeper and organizer of digital information that helped me perform so many activities of daily living.

On the third day, I opened up my computer and saw the hunk of metal that had turned my world upside down. I had to laugh. Why had I become so dependent on something only a few inches wide by a few inches tall and probably only an inch thick? Because I allowed it to. I thought the thing was smarter than it actually was. A smart person seeks help when in trouble. I cannot honestly say that my hard drive reached out for assistance. It simply didn't work anymore, and didn't say it was sorry. My disorientation and frustration was never acknowledged by the 500-gigabyte Samsung HD501LJ. Not once!

Hey, God, we need help down here. Why bother creating highly advanced organisms if you allow them to be so dependent on a factory-installed hunk of metal? A cuddly bear as a toddler, I can understand, but grownups should know better. Next time, don't allow us to stray so far from the Garden of Eden, where everything was colorful and peaceful. Put a fence around it. Invisible, of course, so we don't know we're imprisoned. That would make a mere hard drive cash seem like heaven.