Darwin’s laughing from the grave, that beardy old bastard.
Yes it seems sharks have finally mastered flight. Time to give back the keys to the food chain's executive washroom, we’ve just been handed our evolutionary pink slip.
Reality TV could be blamed. Or the Bush Administration. Or low-carb beer, or MySpace, or iPods, or Paris Hilton, or M. Night Shyamalan, or Matt Lauer, or Chingy, or that fucking “My Humps” song, or the appetizer menu at TFI Friday’s, or the Illuminati, or midgets, or space-zombies, or electric-invisible-robot space-zombies. But alas these are mere symptoms of the greater malady, the tell-tale cancer-cough of a species that’s been on a de-evolutionary trajectory since ‘round 'bout the Industrial Revolution.
Yeah, stupid people are breeding faster than the smart people, and yeah our first-world cultures have become anti-intellectualized to the point that doctoral dissertations are now littered with smileys and text message truncations. Like the dinosaurs and the sasquatches before us, we've become as anachronistic as leg warmers to a quadruple amputee. But unlike the dinosaurs and sasquatches, it won't be a moon-sized meteor or vengeful blow-torch-wielding Santa Claus that will be blamed for our demise; our extinction will be chalked up to our own damned apathy. Oh, and the flying sharks.
Our plunge into the chum-bucket of obsolescence should come as a shock to no one; the fat lady's been riffing that final refrain of our requiem for nearly a century. But did we ever once attempt to right our path? Did we rally together as a species to make a concentrated effort to wipe the Cheet-o dust off our temporal lobes and get back to the business of mastering space-time so we could finally build the starfleet that would allow us to visit distant galaxies -- populated by benevolent aliens living in peaceful, utopian societies -- and crush them? Of course not. We were too busy playing Date Rape Mario on our Nintendo DS. And while we were all complacently slipping back into the primordial ooze, too tied up with our XBOX360’s and celebrity gossip blogs to even notice or care, guess what was happening?
The sharks were plotting.
The sharks were scheming. The sharks were biding their time. Our existence was but a blip on their evolutionary time-line -- a heredity dating back 450 million years. They knew all too well we'd eventually get too damn fat and lazy to serve any ecological purpose but feed for their trough. They knew they'd eventually reclaim their rightful place at the top of the Natural Selection Pyramid. All they had to do was sit. And wait. And learn to fly.
The sharks are coming, people. And there's nothing we can do to stop them.