I really think Vonnegut is right regarding the thesis of his book: that our brains, from an evolutionary perspective, have outgrown their usefulness. They've come to be the greatest orchestrators of our mass extermination in a way that nature seems only to have been able to do once in 65 million years. We could exterminate everything at the drop of the hat. How useful can an organ be, really, that is capable of inventing its own destruction?
Unfortunately I don't have an answer for Mr. Vonnegut (can you tell I've been reading him often of late?). He points to problems that my "big brain" cannot hope to solve. All I know is I've stuck with my brain, despite it's many flaws (mostly its impossible-to-sate lust for bacon at all hours of the day and night.) I just want to craft some armistice with it at least. So, brain, here's my terms:
- Stop telling me I can do whatever I want with my life, and that I'll succeed at whatever I do. This cannot be true.
- My childhood was probably in the top 1% of all childhood's in the history of the world (in terms of love, advantages, luck in place and time of birth, etc.). So, whining subconscious, GET OVER IT.
- Stop trying to make things harder for me constantly. I "know" I don't need an iPad or a sportscar or to live in NYC to be happy, so quit with the misinformation campaign, it's quite tiring.
- Start helping me by easing up on the criticism and the constant logic checks. Existence is totally illogical, at best, and absurd at worst, so please just let me plant my feet somewhere in that "happy" medium, please.
- Most important of all: I AM NOT WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING. I know, brain, that you value this idea perhaps above all others. But it is so maliciously defunct, so broken and dangerous and spiteful beyond all reason, that it's tearing me apart (Lisa). If you give up on any ridiculous notion, this one has got to be it.