As I was riding my bicycle past the local lake today, I noticed some geese by the shoreline; they were tending their young that had recently hatched. I suspect that infants of any species are purposely manufactured to look appealing—they’re automatically “cute.” But I was surprised how adorable these baby geese appeared: they were tiny and fuzzy.
But when I think about the larvae of insects, I feel disgust. Also fish eggs—I don’t think they’re nearly as precious as, for instance, a baby tiger. Then again, maybe pitting mammalian inchoates against eggs (etc.) is comparing apples to oranges. And how do you explain the fact that I think tadpoles are cuter than frogs?
It’s hard to take seriously the notion that someday the creatures of the future will most likely not remember our time very clearly, that they will either be entirely ignorant of us or need to perform great feats of imagination in order to fathom what we who live at present experience effortlessly. It’s hard to accept the idea that our time is only as important as any other time.
But why must it be that the current age cannot possess superiority? Why must all ages fall into the same void of oblivion after they pass?
I would rather have our epoch prove forgettable on account of being plain-featured than to earn fame by inaugurating another war or employing a weapon of unprecedented severity.
Imagine a mother who nurtures her children. What a fine being! Instead of dreading what is harmful, I should praise what is helpful; therefore: Long live all nurturing mothers.
What if, in a single moment, all of the laborers on the globe were to get lifted away by angelic beings and translocated into some faraway heaven, so that only the Chief Executive Officers of each company remained on Earth and had to fend for themselves?
What if, instead of attacking civilians willy-nilly, terrorists were to focus their efforts on inventing a device that would cause a thick fog to envelop every one of our globe’s golf courses, thus rendering them unplayable?
If I had fur all over my face like a dog or a bunny, I might not worry so much about the complexion of my skin. I wonder if bareness of aspect is inextricably paired with advancement of intellect. (How much are genomic attributes like dance partners?)
To summarize my terrestrial observations at this point, I’d say: The average earthling’s impression of outer-space aliens is that they have large eyes, an oversized head, and no hair.
Yet oxen also have larger eyes than humans’. And a bison might have a bigger head than a human. And what about fish? Do sea-dwelling beings possess long-flowing manes? I’m told that whales are warm-blooded.
And there are rumors flying around town maintaining that some turtles have lived for more than a hundred years; moreover, certain types of trees…
I don’t want to spend any more time on this entry.